The One Who Heard Me by Ranjan_Gond_0568

CHAPTER 1 — The First Strange Death

The small town of Riverton was usually a calm place. People lived simple lives, shops opened and closed on time, and everyone knew each other's name. Nothing dangerous ever happened here. That is why, when the first strange death took place, the whole town felt a cold fear they had never known before.

It began on a foggy Monday morning.

Aria Walker, a quiet 22-year-old woman, was walking to her job at the local bookstore. She loved slow mornings, the smell of fresh air, and the sound of birds waking up. But this morning the town felt different. The air felt heavy, as if something bad was hiding nearby.

As she turned the corner near Maple Street, she saw a crowd gathered outside Mr. Hayes's house. Mr. Hayes was an old man who lived alone. People liked him—he always waved and offered candies to children. Aria felt her heart beat faster.

"What happened?" she asked a woman standing near the gate.

The woman looked pale. "Mr. Hayes… he died. But the police say something is strange."

Aria frowned. "Strange how?"

"No signs of struggle. No wounds. No sickness. But his face…" The woman shook her head. "He looked like he saw something terrible."

Aria felt a chill run down her spine. She moved closer. Police tape blocked the yard, and two officers stood guard. Detective Liam Carter, a tall man with sharp eyes, walked out of the house with a very serious look on his face.

Everyone in town respected him. He had solved difficult cases before, but today he looked troubled.

Aria watched him talk quietly to his partner. She could not hear the words, but she felt the weight of the moment. Something very wrong had happened.

When the police finally left, Aria forced herself to continue to work, but her mind kept returning to Mr. Hayes. How could someone die with no sign of harm?

She did not know this was only the beginning.

That night, Aria lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She thought about the old man's face, frozen in fear. She remembered the detective's expression. She remembered the heavy air in the morning.

Something was coming. She could feel it.

Aria had always been sensitive. She noticed things other people ignored—the tone in someone's voice, the look in their eyes, the silence between words. But she never imagined that one day her sensitivity would grow into something far more powerful.

Hours passed, and Aria finally fell into a restless sleep.

CHAPTER 2 — The Voices in Her Head

The next morning, Aria woke up feeling strange. Her head felt heavy, and her heartbeat was faster than normal. She tried to calm herself, thinking it was just stress from last night. But deep down, she knew something had changed.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then—a soft whisper, like someone breathing close to her ear.

Aria's eyes flew open. She looked around her room. No one was there.

"Maybe I'm imagining things," she told herself, but her voice sounded weak.

She got ready for work and stepped outside. The town looked normal—people sweeping their porches, a dog barking in the distance, a bus driving by. But when she walked past the bakery, she suddenly felt a wave of sadness that didn't belong to her.

I miss him… I still can't believe he's gone.

The voice echoed inside her mind.

Aria turned quickly. Mrs. Wells, Mr. Hayes's neighbor, was standing at the door of the bakery, wiping tears from her eyes.

Aria froze.

She had heard Mrs. Wells's private thought… without anyone speaking.

Her breath trembled. "This… this can't be real."

She hurried down the street, her hands shaking. But the thoughts kept coming—small whispers brushing against her mind.

Did I turn off the stove?

My boss better not call me today.

Why are these cases getting harder…?

That last thought was sharp, tired, and familiar. Aria turned and saw Detective Liam Carter walking out of a café, holding a cup of coffee. His face looked calm, but his thoughts sounded stressed.

Aria pressed her fingers to her temples. "Stop… please stop."

The voices faded again.

She reached the bookstore and tried to focus on her work, but every time a customer walked in, their thoughts drifted into her mind like soft echoes. It felt like she was standing in a room full of whispers she could not block.

She wanted to scream.

During her lunch break, she sat alone behind the shop. The sounds in her head grew louder again.

Her heart was racing now. Something was wrong with her mind. Very wrong.

Aria closed her eyes and took deep breaths. "Think, Aria. When did this start?"

Then it hit her.

The near-death accident.

One year ago, she had been in a terrible car crash. A truck had lost control and smashed into her car. She had almost died. Doctors said she was in a coma for two days. When she woke up, they called it a miracle.

At the time, she thought she had fully healed.

But maybe… something else had happened to her brain. Something no doctor could see. Something that now allowed her to hear the thoughts of others.

Her body felt cold. "This isn't normal. This is impossible."

Yet it was happening.

Later that evening, Aria walked home slowly, trying not to pass close to people. She stayed close to empty streets. She did not want to hear any more thoughts.

But even when she was alone, she could still feel a faint pressure in her mind—like someone knocking on the inside of her skull, trying to get her attention.

She wrapped her arms around herself. "Why me? Why now?"

Her footsteps echoed on the quiet road. A soft wind blew past her. She looked around, uneasy.

Then suddenly—

Everything went silent.

All thoughts. All whispers. Gone.

Aria stopped walking. The silence was too perfect. Too sudden.

A feeling of dread crawled up her spine.

She knew this kind of silence meant only one thing:

Someone else was there.

Someone watching.

Someone thinking.

Someone whose mind felt nothing like the others'.

It was cold. Calm. And dangerous.

Her breathing turned shallow. She slowly turned her head to look behind her.

No one.

The street was empty.

But the presence was real. She could feel it like a shadow inside her mind.

And then—

A voice slipped into her head.

Not soft. Not confused. Not accidental.

But clear.

Sharp.

Cold.

A voice that did not belong to any normal person.

A voice that knew she could hear it.

A voice that whispered directly into her thoughts:

"You're next."

CHAPTER 3 — The Warning

Aria froze in the middle of the empty street.

The whisper inside her mind—You're next—kept echoing again and again, like cold fingers tapping the back of her neck. She spun around, searching for anyone hiding in the shadows, but the road was silent.

Her legs felt weak. She wanted to scream, but fear held her voice inside her throat.

"Who are you?" she whispered shakily. "What do you want from me?"

No answer.

Only the empty street lights flickering above her.

But Aria knew one thing for sure:

The voice didn't come from her imagination.

It didn't come from any normal person.

It came from someone who wanted her to hear it.

Someone dangerous.

She ran the rest of the way home, locked the door, and leaned against it, breathing fast. Her heart felt like it might break her chest open. The room was quiet, but her mind wasn't.

Why her?

How did this stranger know she could hear thoughts?

Why did he say she was next?

Aria didn't sleep that night. She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, waiting for the voice to return.

But it didn't.

Instead, something worse did.

The next morning, Riverton woke up to another scream.

Aria was walking to work when she saw people running toward Oakwood Lane. Her chest tightened. Not again. She followed the crowd.

At the end of the street, she saw police cars, yellow tape, and horrified neighbors standing outside a small house. Flashing lights made everything feel unreal.

Detective Liam Carter stood near the doorway, his jaw tight. When he saw Aria, he looked surprised but didn't tell her to leave.

A woman cried loudly behind them. "She was only twenty-five… oh God… she didn't deserve this…"

Aria stepped closer and whispered, "Detective… who died?"

Liam looked at her with tired eyes. "A woman named Lily Hammond. Young. Healthy. Found dead in her living room."

Aria felt the ground spin beneath her feet.

Liam continued, voice low, "Same as Mr. Hayes. No marks. No poison. No reason for her heart to stop. And her face…" He paused. "She looked terrified."

Aria closed her eyes for a moment. The killer struck again.

The killer who spoke inside her mind.

"You think it's the same murderer?" she asked quietly.

"I don't think," he replied. "I know."

Aria swallowed hard.

Liam walked away to speak to an officer, but Aria stood frozen, staring at the yellow tape. She could almost feel the fear Lily must have felt in her final moments. An invisible chill wrapped around her shoulders.

Then—a faint whisper, colder than the wind.

Did you see what I can do?

Aria gasped. She backed away, bumping into a mailbox. She looked around wildly. No one was looking at her. No one saw her panic.

But the voice continued.

You understand now, don't you? This town is only the beginning.

Her breathing grew shallow.

She whispered, trembling, "Why are you doing this?"

The voice sounded amused.

Because people are easy to break. And you… you're special. That makes me fun.

Aria shook her head violently. "Stop. Leave me alone."

But the voice only chuckled—a cold, cruel sound.

Then it disappeared.

Aria stood on the sidewalk, shaking, knowing one terrible truth:

The killer wasn't just a murderer.

He was watching her.

CHAPTER 4 — The Dark Realization

Aria rushed home after hearing the killer's whisper at the second crime scene. Her legs felt heavy, her heart pounding fast as she locked her front door and leaned against it. She tried to breathe, but fear filled every corner of her chest.

The house was quiet, but her mind wasn't.

She kept hearing his cold words:

Did you see what I can do?

This town is only the beginning.

Aria walked to her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands. She felt like the whole world had suddenly changed—like she had stepped into a place where nothing was safe anymore.

She whispered, "Why can he talk inside my head? Who is he?"

The question echoed in the room.

Then she thought about herself—how she had suddenly begun hearing people's thoughts after the strange feeling yesterday morning. How the whispers kept coming even when she didn't want them.

Then she remembered the accident.

One year ago, she had almost died.

Doctors said her brain had healed, but maybe… something else had happened too.

Something she never understood.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Maybe I'm not the only one," she murmured.

The killer always knew more than he should. He killed without touching. He knew people's fears. He knew exactly where Aria was standing. He spoke inside her head as if he were right next to her.

Aria felt a cold wave run through her body.

"He can read minds," she whispered. "Just like me."

The moment she said it, her stomach twisted. It explained everything—the silent murders, the perfect timing, the fear on people's faces. He knew their weaknesses because he could reach inside their minds.

But unlike her, he wasn't confused or overwhelmed by the voices.

He was using the ability like a weapon.

He liked it.

Aria stood up and paced quickly around her room. "A mind reader… a killer… he's been watching me. Listening to me."

She felt exposed—like someone was standing in the corner of her room even though she couldn't see anyone.

Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump. It was a message from Detective Liam:

"Are you okay? You looked shaken today."

She stared at the screen, her fingers trembling. She wanted to reply. She wanted to tell him everything. But then she remembered the killer's last warning:

You're next.

A horrible thought struck her:

If he could hear her thoughts…

If he was inside her mind…

Then he knew she was thinking about telling Liam.

"What if he hurts the detective?" she whispered.

She put the phone down slowly.

She was trapped.

She couldn't tell anyone.

She couldn't ask for help.

Not without risking another life.

Aria walked to the window and looked at the quiet street outside. A cold wind moved the leaves. Everything looked normal, but nothing was normal anymore.

Somewhere out there was a psychopath who could enter anyone's mind.

He wanted her.

She shut the curtains and whispered into the darkness, "Why me…?"

There was no answer this time.

Just silence.

A deep, heavy silence that felt worse than the whisper.

Because now Aria knew the truth:

The killer wasn't just murdering people.

He was hunting her.

He could hear every single thought she had.

CHAPTER 5 — Always One Step Ahead

Detective Liam Carter stood in the crowded police station, staring at the murder board. Photos of Mr. Hayes and Lily Hammond were pinned side by side. Both victims had the same terrified expression, the same mysterious cause of death, the same impossible timing.

The officers talked around him, sharing ideas, theories, guesses.

"We should check for toxins."

"No signs of forced entry."

"Maybe it's a medical issue."

Liam rubbed his forehead. None of their ideas fit. Both victims were healthy. Both died suddenly. Both looked like they saw something awful.

There were no clues.

It was as if the killer had walked in and out without leaving a single trace.

He looked at his partner. "This murderer is smart. Too smart."

Meanwhile, Aria walked past the station on her way home. She didn't dare speak to Liam—she was too afraid the killer was listening, hiding, watching. She kept her eyes down and her thoughts quiet, trying not to reveal anything.

But she had no idea that while the police struggled, the killer was far from worried.

Elsewhere in Riverton…

In a dark, empty apartment, a man sat in a wooden chair. He wasn't old. He wasn't young. His eyes were calm—too calm—as he stared at the wall.

The killer.

He didn't need books, tools, or weapons.

He had something far more powerful.

He closed his eyes and listened.

Whispers. Thoughts. Minds.

Dozens of them at once, floating through the town like radio signals waiting to be picked up.

The detective is clueless.

I hope they arrest someone soon.

Lily… oh Lily…

What if we're next?

People's fears made him smile.

Then he searched deeper.

He found the police station.

He heard every officer's thoughts clearly, as if he were inside the building.

Check the fingerprints again.

The boss wants answers.

Should we question the neighbors again?

He listened to Detective Liam last.

Liam's thoughts were sharp, focused, frustrated.

Who are you? How do you kill without touching?

The killer smirked.

He whispered, though no one could hear:

"You can't catch me. Not when I already know every move you make."

He followed Liam's thoughts as the detective walked to his desk, opened a file, and made a phone call. The killer heard every word Liam said—every idea, every plan, every doubt.

The police didn't stand a chance.

Back at the station…

Liam walked into the meeting room and gathered the officers.

"We're dealing with someone extremely careful," he said. "No signs of struggle, no fingerprints. The killer knows exactly how to avoid us."

One officer shook his head. "How does someone avoid cameras, alarms, neighbors, everything? It's impossible."

Liam didn't answer.

He didn't know.

He felt like the murderer was invisible.

Then the phone on his desk rang. He walked out to answer it.

As soon as he picked it up, the killer already knew who Liam was talking to, what information he was getting, what he was planning next.

Every step Liam took…

Every decision he made…

Every suspect he thought about…

The killer knew.

He stayed far ahead, always out of reach.

Evening fell over Riverton.

Aria walked home quietly, hugging her bag close to her chest. She tried her best not to think too loudly—though she didn't know if that was even possible.

She kept repeating in her mind:

Don't think of him.

But that only made it worse.

When she reached her house, she looked across the street and froze.

A man was standing near the trees.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Just watching.

Her stomach dropped.

She blinked.

He was gone.

"Was he really there?" she whispered.

Or was it her imagination?

She hurried inside, shaking. Her mind raced with fear, and she knew—she could feel—that somewhere, the killer was listening.

The more she panicked, the more satisfied he became.

She sat on the floor, hugging her knees.

She wanted to warn the police.

She wanted to tell Liam everything.

She wanted help.

But she knew the truth now.

The killer wasn't avoiding the police by luck.

He was avoiding them because he knew their every thought.

Every plan.

Every idea.

He stayed one step ahead because he could hear them long before they even acted.

Aria whispered into the quiet room:

"You're not just a murderer. You're a mind reader… and you're using it to play with all of us."

The realization made her chest tighten.

Worst of all…

He wasn't done.

CHAPTER 6 — The Secret Aria Swore to Bury

Aria did not remember the walk home.

Her feet carried her automatically through the fading evening light, but her mind replayed the interrogation room like a broken reel. Officer Hale's eyes—sharp, suspicious—lingered on her longer than they should have. Maybe he thought she was hiding something. Maybe he was right.

Because no one could have said what she said without sounding unhinged.

"He was thinking about the body before you even told him."

"He kept checking your thoughts to see if you suspected him."

She could still hear Hale's shifting thoughts, like faint echoes in a hollow room. He had been afraid she was mocking him. Afraid she was feeding him nonsense. Afraid she might be involved.

The fear had spread from him to her. It always did.

By the time she reached her apartment door, Aria's heartbeat had settled into an exhausted thud. She locked the door behind her, slid the bolt across, and pressed her forehead against the wood—breathing, steadying, anchoring herself to something solid.

I shouldn't have said anything.

Her ability—this curse—was already spiraling out of control. She had promised herself years ago that she'd never reveal it again. Not after everything it had cost her.

But sitting across from a killer who could read minds like she could… she had slipped. For one terrible moment, she forgot she wasn't supposed to be honest.

Aria pushed away from the door and walked to the small kitchen. She poured water into a glass with trembling fingers, the cold rim calming against her lips as she drank. Only then did she realize her hands were shaking hard enough that droplets ran down her wrist.

She was losing control. That was the truth she didn't want to admit.

The whispers had always been there—quiet, manageable, distant. Like hearing someone speak from another room. But today, they were sharp, intrusive, violent. The killer's thoughts were jagged, barbed, and they cut deeper than she expected.

She set the glass down and sank onto the couch.

You can control this. You've done it for years. You can do it again.

She closed her eyes and exhaled.

Silence.

For one peaceful second, there was nothing.

Then—

They're going to ask more questions.

You shouldn't have said anything.

If they find out, they'll never trust you.

Voices, memories, fears—her own, not others'. But she couldn't always tell the difference. The line blurred whenever she was stressed.

She rubbed her temples. "Stop," she whispered, but whispers never listened.

The Weight of the Past

Her therapist from years ago had said the mind could play tricks under pressure. Aria almost laughed—if only it were that simple. She remembered the hospital room: sterile smell, pale walls, a doctor with a patronizing smile telling her she was experiencing "auditory hallucinations."

The voices she heard then weren't hallucinations. They belonged to people in the hallway. Nurses. Patients. Visitors. Conversations she shouldn't have been able to hear.

But no one believed her.

Not even her own parents.

Their thoughts—She needs medication… she's unstable… what if she hurts herself…—had been more painful than the words they dared to say out loud.

So she learned to lie.

To nod.

To pretend she didn't hear anything unusual.

Eventually… to control it.

Until the killer shattered all of that.

Her ability didn't just slip today—it lashed out like a wild thing desperate to be heard. She heard him with a clarity she had never experienced. His thoughts weren't whispers. They were full, terrifying sentences spoken straight into her skull.

A shudder rolled through her.

Fear of Discovery

Her phone buzzed. She jumped.

A message from Officer Hale:

"We may need to speak again tomorrow. Don't leave town."

Her stomach twisted.

Of course. She knew too much. She slipped up.

Aria's mind flashed with possibilities—interrogations, suspicion, being labeled delusional, dangerous. She couldn't let that happen again. She couldn't go back to being the girl who hears things that aren't there. The girl doctors wanted to medicate. The girl everyone whispered about.

No. She had rebuilt her life. Quiet job. Quiet apartment. Quiet existence.

It could all collapse because of one killer who forced open the part of her she had fought to bury.

What if they ask how I knew?

She had no answer. Not one that sounded sane.

She stood abruptly, pacing across the small living room. The shadows stretched long across the floor as the last vestiges of light drained from the windows.

"I can't let them find out," she whispered. "I can't."

Her voice cracked.

She knew the police weren't the enemy. Hale seemed rational, determined, the kind of man who wanted justice. But even he would write her off if she admitted the truth. He'd think she was lying or delusional or worse—seeking attention in a murder investigation.

If he believed her?

That was even more dangerous.

Because then he would want to use her.

To track a killer who could hear thoughts the same way she could.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

No. She had to shut this down. She had to stay quiet. She had to keep this secret locked deep inside her chest where it belonged.

The Echoes That Wouldn't Sleep

As night fell, Aria curled beneath her blanket on the couch, afraid that closing her eyes would only invite more voices in. But exhaustion tugged her under, soft and slow.

For a moment, she slept.

Then—

She's scared.

She's hiding something.

She knows too much.

Her eyes snapped open. Her heart raced painfully.

The voices weren't hers this time.

These were real.

Close.

Too close.

She sat up, breath caught in her throat.

Silence.

Had she imagined it? Stress often warped her perception. She had been too wound up today—any slip in her control could trigger phantom whispers.

Yes. That had to be it.

She forced her breathing to slow. "Calm down… calm down…"

Just stress.

Just exhaustion.

Just—

One step ahead… always one step ahead…

Aria froze.

That voice—cold, amused, confident—was unmistakable.

It was him.

But how? He wasn't here. He couldn't be near her. The police would know. Someone would know.

Unless—

Her blood turned to ice.

Unless his ability worked like hers.

Unless distance didn't matter.

Unless he could project his thoughts outward with force.

Her hands clenched the blanket until her knuckles ached.

She pressed her palms over her ears even though she knew it wouldn't help.

"Get out of my head," she whispered, trembling.

But the whispers faded on their own, drifting away like smoke dissipating into cold air.

Silence settled again, heavy and suffocating.

Aria curled into herself, shaking.

If the killer truly could do what she could…

If he could reach her mind from wherever he was…

Then hiding her ability wasn't just about protecting herself anymore.

It might be the only thing keeping her alive.

CHAPTER 7 — Whispers in the Walls

Aria didn't sleep after that.

She couldn't.

She spent the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket on the couch, staring at the dark ceiling while her mind replayed that chilling whisper—his whisper—over and over until dawn crept through the curtains.

By morning, she had convinced herself it must have been a dream. Or stress. Or sheer panic making her imagine things. She wanted to believe that so badly.

But deep down, she knew the truth:

The killer had reached her somehow.

If he could reach her once, he could do it again.

Trying to Act Normal

She dragged herself into work the next day, eyes heavy, nerves buzzing. The office was quiet, the usual typing and low chatter filling the space like a dull hum. Normal. Safe. Predictable.

She clung to that comfort.

Aria sat at her desk, stacking reports, pretending her hands weren't trembling. Pretending she didn't feel eyes on her—even though no one was really looking.

You're overthinking everything, she told herself.

Hours passed. Meetings. Emails. Coffee breaks. She forced herself to smile when coworkers spoke to her. Forced her voice not to shake. Forced her thoughts to stay locked behind mental walls she had spent years building.

No voices. No whispers. No him.

For a while, she almost believed it was over.

Then, sometime after lunch, she froze mid-sentence while speaking to a coworker.

A faint sound—like someone murmuring into her ear—skimmed across her mind.

Not words.

Just… breath.

Aria's heart jumped painfully.

"Aria? Are you okay?" her coworker asked.

She blinked hard, forcing a small, brittle smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

But inside, her stomach had dropped. Cold dread pooled at the base of her spine.

She knew that sensation.

It was exactly what she heard as a child before someone spoke. The half-whisper. The pre-echo. A mind forming thoughts.

Someone nearby was thinking about her.

Someone whose thoughts didn't belong in this building.

Her pulse thundered.

She excused herself and practically ran to the restroom. Locking herself inside a stall, she pressed a hand against her chest, trying to calm the wild, fluttering panic.

No. No, no, no. He can't be here.

She strained her ears—internally, mentally—cautious, terrified.

Silence.

Then—

Almost close enough…

Aria slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp clawing its way out. Her knees nearly buckled.

It was him.

The killer.

The same cold cadence she remembered. Dark. Calm. Amused.

But the whisper faded again before she could grasp anything more.

Just like the night before.

Not a conversation.

Not a clear message.

Just a presence.

A shadow brushing the edge of her mind.

He's close.

The restroom felt too small, too suffocating. She stumbled out of the stall, splashed water on her face, and gripped the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white.

Why is he near me? How does he even know who I am?

Does he know I can hear him?

Does he want me dead?

Her breath came in harsh, short bursts. Fear shredded her thoughts.

She wiped her hands quickly and returned to her desk, but she couldn't focus. The whispers didn't return—not immediately—but the paranoia settled deep in her bones.

She could feel him.

Out there somewhere.

Watching.

Waiting.

Thinking.

A Warning She Couldn't Explain

At around 4 p.m., her phone buzzed with an unknown number. She hesitated before answering—it could be Hale again. She wasn't ready for more questions.

But when she picked up, the line crackled with static.

"Hello?" she asked.

Silence.

Then—whisper-soft—she heard something that made her blood freeze.

Not yet…

She slammed the phone down so fast she nearly dropped it.

Her breath hitched, her hands shaking violently.

That wasn't a real call.

That wasn't a human voice.

That was inside her mind—slipping through her consciousness like smoke.

There was no number that could've dialed that into her skull.

Her coworkers looked at her strangely, but Aria pretended everything was fine. She stayed until the end of her shift just to avoid suspicion, even though every instinct screamed for her to run home and lock the doors.

But when she stepped outside into the cool evening air, the whispers returned immediately.

Not words this time.

Just static—soft, eerie, like a radio trying to tune into a station.

Her stomach twisted.

He's near. He's near. He's near.

She walked faster, hugging her bag to her chest, scanning every street, every parked car, every passerby. Her senses stretched thin, her mind reaching involuntarily for thoughts that didn't belong.

For a heartbeat, she caught something—something dark:

She's alone.

Aria's breath punched out of her lungs. She spun around, searching.

No one was looking at her.

No footsteps matched the rhythm she expected.

No face stood out.

She forced herself to keep moving, but panic laced every step. She didn't stop until she reached her apartment door.

Her hands shook so violently that she fumbled with the keys twice.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she collapsed against it, sliding to the floor.

Her heart hammered painfully.

He was there.

He was close enough to see me.

Close enough to think about me.

Worst of all—

Close enough for her to hear him.

The Burden She Couldn't Share

Aria curled up, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

She wanted to call someone—her parents, a friend, the police—but what would she even say?

"I can hear a serial killer's thoughts."

They would lock her up. She knew it. She had been down that road before. She could almost taste the metallic tang of the hospital rooms, the judgment in the doctors' eyes, the pills lined on trays.

Never again.

She swallowed hard.

She had survived this alone before. She could do it again.

But this wasn't like before.

This was someone using the same ability she had.

Someone who understood how to hide, how to mask, how to slip into silence.

Someone who enjoyed feeling her fear.

She paced the room, restless, desperate, terrified. Every few minutes she paused, listening—truly listening—for another whisper.

Nothing came.

But the absence wasn't comforting.

It felt deliberate.

As if he was giving her time to wonder when he would appear again.

As if he liked watching her unravel.

She sank onto the couch again, pressing her palms to her eyes.

He's close whenever the whispers start.

If I pay attention… maybe I can sense distance. Direction.

Maybe… maybe I can stay alive.

She didn't want this ability.

She didn't trust it.

But she also didn't have a choice.

Not anymore.

The Night That Changed Everything

When darkness settled over the city, Aria tried to sleep. She lay curled beneath her blanket, every muscle tight.

She listened for hours.

Nothing.

She almost started to relax.

Until—

A whisper slid into her mind, soft and cold as a blade against skin.

Very close now…

Aria shot up in bed, heart racing. Her eyes darted across the dark room.

Another whisper:

You sense me. Good.

She clapped her hands over her ears though it didn't help.

Her breath trembled.

This was not distance.

This was not a passing thought.

He was near her building.

Maybe outside.

Maybe right below her window.

Maybe—

A sudden burst of whispers crashed through her head—overlapping, chaotic, impossible to separate. It felt like dozens of voices rising all at once.

But they weren't real voices.

They were echoes.

Flashes of his thoughts.

Fragments slipping through because he was too close to control it perfectly.

Find her.

Watch her.

She knows something.

Not yet.

Soon.

Aria stumbled backward until her spine hit the wall.

"No," she whispered. "No… please…"

Her entire skull felt like it was splitting open.

Then—the torment stopped.

Just like that.

Silence.

A silence so sharp it made her ears ring.

Aria slid to the floor, shaking violently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

This wasn't a curse anymore.

It was a warning system.

Whenever she heard those whispers…

he was near.

Close enough to kill her if he chose.

For some reason— he was waiting.

CHAPTER 8 — Too Many Answers

Detective Liam Carter had seen liars before.

He had seen nervous people, frightened witnesses, people trying too hard to appear calm, people who hid secrets under shaky smiles.

But Aria Walker…

She was something different.

She didn't look like a liar.

She looked like someone carrying a weight she didn't understand.

She knew far too much about the murders.

A Pattern Liam Couldn't Ignore

For three days, Liam reviewed every detail of the two strange deaths—Mr. Hayes and Emily Ridge. No wounds. No poison. No signs of struggle. Both with the same frozen terror on their faces.

It wasn't natural.

But unnatural explanations were not part of a detective's job.

His partner, Officer Hale, thought Aria was just scared. A sensitive young woman who happened to be near both scenes.

Liam wasn't so sure.

She had been the first to sense something was wrong both times. She had described Emily Ridge's fear before they even mentioned the victim's expression. She had spoken about "a feeling in the air" that lined up exactly with the estimated times of death.

Coincidence?

Maybe.

But Liam didn't believe in coincidences.

Not after what he saw in Aria's eyes—the kind of fear people felt when danger was personal.

A Visit to Aria's Apartment

It was late evening when Liam decided to check on her again. Not officially. Just as a precaution. Victims sometimes acted strange before something happened to them.

Aria looked like someone expecting something terrible.

He climbed the stairs to her apartment. The hallway was quiet, washed in dim yellow light from a flickering bulb. He knocked gently.

For a moment, there was no sound.

Then he heard soft footsteps and the door opened just a crack.

Aria's face appeared—pale, eyes wide and tired, as if she hadn't slept in days.

"Detective Carter," she whispered. "Is… is something wrong?"

"That's what I should be asking you," Liam said, keeping his voice calm. "May I come in?"

She hesitated. He could see her mind fighting itself.

Then she stepped aside.

Inside a Fearful Mind

Her apartment was neat—too neat. Everything looked like it had been cleaned just to keep the mind busy. A blanket lay on the couch, twisted as if someone had curled up under it for hours.

Liam noticed the trembling in her hands even though she tried to hide them behind her back.

He turned toward her gently. "Aria… are you all right?"

She nodded too quickly. "Yes. I'm fine. Just tired."

"You didn't seem fine earlier this week," he said. "And you were at both crime scenes. That worries me."

Her eyes flickered with something—fear, guilt, or maybe something she didn't want to name.

Liam stepped closer, but slowly, giving her space. "If you know something, even if it sounds strange or unbelievable, you need to tell me. It could save someone's life."

Aria swallowed hard.

For a moment, he thought she might tell him everything.

But then she shook her head. "I… I don't know anything. I just happened to be there."

"Aria," Liam said softly, "you knew details before we told you. Things no one else noticed. Things even our medical team didn't see until later."

Her breath hitched.

He watched the panic rise on her face, like a tide she couldn't stop.

"It's… it's just intuition," she whispered weakly. "I feel things. I notice things."

"Intuition doesn't predict time of death," Liam said quietly.

"Intuition doesn't describe the victim's fear perfectly."

"Intuition doesn't show up twice at the exact right moment."

Aria froze.

Liam lowered his voice. "Something is going on with you. I can see it. And whatever it is… it's scaring you."

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

She wanted to tell him—he could see it.

Her eyes held secrets bigger than fear.

For a long moment, they stood in silence.

Then Aria wrapped her arms around herself. "If I tell you… you'll think I'm crazy."

Liam took a slow breath. "Try me."

The Moment She Breaks

Aria's eyes filled with tears she tried to blink away. Her voice trembled.

"You wouldn't understand."

"You won't know until you tell me."

"I—" She stopped, pressing a hand to her forehead as if pushing back thoughts that hurt. "I can't. You'll put me in a hospital. You'll think I'm sick or dangerous."

Liam's expression softened. "I don't put people in hospitals for being scared. I protect them. That's my job."

Aria squeezed her eyes shut.

For a moment, the truth hovered on her lips—so close he could almost hear it.

But then, suddenly, silently, she pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't tell you."

Liam studied her. She wasn't lying now—not about her fear. But she was hiding something big. Something urgent.

He sighed quietly. "All right. I won't push."

But inside, he was more convinced than ever that Aria Walker was connected to the murders in a way she didn't understand or didn't want to admit.

He had seen people hide secrets before.

But never like this.

This was something else entirely.

A Strange Slip

Just when Liam was about to leave, Aria spoke again—voice barely audible.

"Detective… please be careful."

He turned. "Why?"

Her eyes darted to the window, then back to him, filled with fear.

"He watches people," she said. "He waits. He listens. He knows things he shouldn't."

Liam's brows drew together. "Aria… how do you know that?"

She froze.

She hadn't meant to say it. He could see the regret crash over her like a wave.

"I… heard people say it," she lied quickly. "Around town. Rumors."

Liam's instincts screamed.

She wasn't telling the truth—not even close.

Before he could question further, she whispered, "Please… just be careful."

A Detective's Doubts

As Liam walked back to his car, he couldn't shake the tight feeling in his chest.

Aria was terrified of something she couldn't explain.

She wasn't making up stories for attention.

She wasn't pretending.

She was hiding something that felt bigger than logic.

He sat down behind the wheel, staring at her apartment window.

Could she actually know something supernatural?

Something impossible?

His rational mind said no.

His instincts said don't rule it out.

He rubbed his eyes.

"Get it together," he muttered to himself. "There has to be a real explanation."

But another voice inside him whispered:

What if there isn't?

What if Aria really does know the killer's thoughts?

What if she hears things no one else can?

He shook his head.

Impossible.

Yet Aria had predicted too much.

Too accurately.

Now… she seemed to know she was being watched.

The Last Look

Before Liam drove away, he glanced up at her window one last time.

Aria was standing there, looking down at him.

Her silhouette was small and fragile against the dim light of her apartment.

But her eyes—those wide, haunted eyes—told him something.

She wasn't just scared.

She was warning him.

About something she couldn't say.

Something she couldn't escape.

Something that was getting closer every day.

CHAPTER 9 — The Darkest Thoughts

The killer did not choose victims randomly.

People in Riverton believed the murders were unpredictable, the work of someone who attacked without reason. But the truth was far more terrifying than anyone imagined.

He didn't pick victims based on where they lived, what time they woke up, or where they walked at night.

He picked them based on their darkest hidden thoughts—the thoughts no one else could hear.

Except him.

Inside the Killer's Mind

The man—whose real name no one knew—sat in his silent apartment. The curtains were drawn. The lights were off. Only the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the room.

He didn't need sound.

He had the voices in his head.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to stretch across the streets of Riverton like a shadow moving through the town.

Thoughts filled him instantly—like radio stations switching rapidly.

I hope I get a promotion… I need more money…

I'm late again, she'll be angry.

I forgot to buy bread.

What if the killer is still around?

Normal thoughts. Ordinary things.

But he was searching for something different.

Something darker.

He filtered through the noise like a hunter following the scent of prey.

I wish my boss would just drop dead.

I should have been the one to get that job.

I hate my neighbor. I hope something bad happens to him.

She ruined my life… she deserves to suffer…

A smile slowly curled on the killer's lips.

These were the thoughts he loved.

Not because he cared about the people who thought them—they were irrelevant. But because their inner darkness made them easy targets.

Vulnerable.

Afraid.

Guilty.

People with dark thoughts were always trying to hide them from others. But they couldn't hide from him.

He fed on their secrets.

He leaned forward, whispering to no one:

"You think terrible things… but I'm the one who brings them to life."

His Pattern Emerges

Mr. Hayes had once wished his estranged son would "disappear" after a terrible fight.

Emily Ridge had silently hoped her ex-lover—who cheated on her—would "feel real pain someday."

These were private thoughts they would never speak aloud.

But the killer heard them.

To him, those thoughts made them "deserving."

He convinced himself that he wasn't the murderer.

They were.

He was only the hand that delivered justice.

In his twisted mind, he wasn't evil.

He was the one exposing the darkness hidden in small, quiet people.

He always found more.

A New Victim Chosen

That night, he walked through the dim streets of Riverton, invisible in the darkness.

He didn't look dangerous.

He didn't even look suspicious.

That was his greatest strength.

As he passed a crowded café, the burst of mingled thoughts hit him like a wave.

I don't want to be here.

He never listens to me.

I'm so tired of pretending.

If only she would break her ankle, I'd win the competition.

I swear, I'd hurt him if I had the chance…

The killer paused, head tilting slightly as he focused on one particular thought.

It came from a woman sitting alone near a window, stirring her coffee mechanically while staring outside.

Her thoughts were sharp and bitter.

It's his fault… all of it… he ruined my life… I wish he would pay.

The killer smiled.

Not because she had done something wrong.

But because her mind was loud with anger, guilt, and secret fantasies of revenge—exactly the kind of darkness he sought.

He didn't need to follow her.

He already knew where she lived.

He had heard her thoughts about her apartment just minutes ago.

Tonight or tomorrow, it didn't matter.

She was already marked.

Meanwhile… Aria Feels Something Shift

Across town, Aria sat on her bed with her knees pulled close. She stared blankly at the wall, trying to steady her breathing.

Since the accident, her mind felt like a door she could no longer close.

She didn't want to hear people's thoughts.

She didn't want to know their secrets.

She didn't want to feel their fear.

But she did.

Ever since she realized the killer could read minds too, something had changed inside her—something cold, something uneasy.

The whispers had started.

Soft, random, broken pieces of voices.

Shadows of thoughts not her own.

Sometimes she could ignore them.

Sometimes they hit her so hard they made her gasp.

But the worst part was when she felt the killer in that storm of noise.

His presence was different—sharp, cold, almost metallic, like a blade scraping inside her mind.

She sensed something now.

Something dark moving through the town.

She whispered to herself, "Someone is going to die tonight."

The moment she said it, chills ran through her body.

She didn't know who.

She didn't know where.

But she felt the killer focusing on a new person—his attention narrowing like a predator locking onto prey.

Aria curled her hands into fists.

She wanted to warn the police.

She wanted to warn Liam.

But how could she explain such a thing without sounding insane?

If she told him, he would demand details she couldn't give.

He might even think she was involved.

She closed her eyes tightly.

Why me?

Why did I survive that accident?

Why did I get this power?

Then a thought hit her:

What if she wasn't given this ability by accident?

What if she was given it to stop him?

Her heart pounded.

She didn't want to be a hero.

She didn't want to be part of this nightmare.

But if she did nothing… innocent people would keep dying.

The Killer Makes His Move

The woman from the café, Claire Morgan, walked home alone just after midnight.

She took the same path she always used—through a narrow road behind the old post office. It was quiet and dark. Her footsteps echoed against the empty walls.

She didn't know she was being watched.

The killer walked behind her at a safe distance, moving silently, blending into the shadows.

He didn't need a weapon.

He only needed to listen.

As she approached her building, her thoughts flickered with fear.

I hope no one is behind me… It's dark… too dark…

He smiled.

Fear always made the mind louder.

He stepped closer, his presence falling over her like a cold cloud. She froze, sensing something but not knowing what.

Then—

Please… don't hurt me…

The moment the terrified thought formed in her mind—

Her heart stopped.

Her breath vanished.

She crumpled to the ground, eyes wide in horror.

The killer didn't touch her.

He didn't have to.

Her darkness fed him, and her fear finished her.

Aria Feels the Death

At the exact moment Claire died, Aria shot upright in bed with a strangled gasp.

Her hands pressed against her chest as if trying to catch a breath that wasn't hers.

She felt it—like a shockwave passing through her mind.

A life had just ended.

The killer had just struck again.

The darkness he fed on felt closer than ever before.

She whispered into the empty room:

"He's choosing people for their thoughts… I'm next."

CHAPTER 10 — Closing In

The next few days turned Riverton into a town living under a storm cloud no one could see but everyone could feel. News of the second murder spread like wildfire, and the fear that had begun with Mr. Hayes now grew into something darker—something that whispered of a threat hiding in plain sight. People locked their doors earlier, avoided walking alone, and looked over their shoulders as if expecting a shadow to break away and attack.

Aria, however, didn't need to look over her shoulder. She could feel him.

It began subtly—a flicker of whispers at the edge of her hearing whenever she passed through crowded places. It didn't matter if she was at the grocery store, on the town bus, or walking through the market—if the killer was anywhere nearby, the air around her shifted like a drop in temperature. Voices she didn't recognize scattered around her mind, rapid, frightened, jumbled. Background thoughts of strangers blended into a distant hum.

But beneath them… beneath all of them… was something else.

A whisper that didn't belong to a passerby.

A voice that slithered in calmly, deliberately, as if aware of her listening.

As if enjoying it.

On Wednesday afternoon, Aria entered the town square—a place usually bright with chatter, filled with children playing and vendors selling flowers. Today it felt heavier. Aria's steps slowed as she crossed the open area, passing a cluster of teenagers and a couple arguing over groceries. She tried to focus on the normal noises, anything grounding, anything real.

But then—

"She doesn't know I'm watching."

A low whisper rippled across her mind.

Aria's breath hitched. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

The voice wasn't panicked like the others. It wasn't confused, or stressed, or busy thinking about errands and bills. It was calm, controlled—too controlled. The words echoed as though spoken from a place just behind her, but when she turned, no one was there.

She kept walking, her hands trembling as she clutched her bag. The world around her felt too close, too loud, too alive with hidden minds pressing against hers. She tried to drown them out the way she'd learned this past week—deep breaths, closed thoughts, like building a wall in her head. But the wall couldn't stop him.

The whisper seeped through again.

"She feels me. How interesting."

Aria froze near the fountain. Her vision blurred for a second. She wasn't imagining it. He was here. Somewhere among the crowd, blending in like any ordinary person.

Her eyes darted from face to face.

A young man checking his phone.

A vendor arranging apples.

A mother dragging her kid away from the fountain.

Which one of them hid a monster behind their eyes?

Aria swallowed hard, fighting the panic rising in her throat. If she ran, he would know she recognized him. If she stayed still, she felt like she'd suffocate under the weight of his attention.

But the whisper continued, slow and amused:

"Closer… closer… Don't turn around yet."

She did the opposite and spun instantly, but the voice only laughed—an eerie, quiet echo inside her skull.

"Wrong direction, Aria."

Her knees nearly buckled.

He knew her name.

He wasn't guessing—he knew. That meant he had listened to her thoughts before. Maybe watched her before. Maybe been close enough to brush past her without her noticing.

Her breaths became shallow, and she forced herself toward the edge of the crowd, searching—desperate—for an exit. She didn't care where she went, only that she put distance between herself and the voice that seemed to follow her.

But the whispers didn't fade.

"You can run… but I like the chase."

A cold sweat broke across her skin.

She didn't stop moving until she ducked into a narrow alley behind a bakery, leaning against the wall, chest heaving. The moment she stepped away from the crowd, the whispers around her vanished completely—leaving her alone, shaken, and trembling.

Had he followed? Was he still near?

The alley was empty. Silent.

But Aria didn't feel safe.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to steady herself. With every day that passed, her connection to this killer seemed to tighten, as though an invisible thread linked their minds. And now he wasn't hiding anymore. He was seeking her out.

Searching for her.

Hunting her.

Aria's throat dried as one awful realization settled in:

He didn't want her as a victim.

He wanted her as a game.

She had no idea how long she could keep running without being caught.

CHAPTER 11 — We Are the Same

Aria's hands shook as she stared at her phone. Another message had appeared—this time with words that froze her blood.

"We are the same."

Her heart raced, her mind spinning. How could someone know about her? About her thoughts, her fears, the whispers she had been hearing? No one should. No one could.

She looked around her apartment, half-expecting a shadow to move in the corner. The room was empty. Silent. Normal. But her instincts screamed otherwise.

She typed a trembling reply.

"Who is this?"

The answer came instantly.

"You know."

Aria's stomach dropped. It was him. The killer. The one who had been stalking her thoughts, hunting her through the crowd, choosing victims by their darkest secrets. And now… he was speaking to her directly.

Another message followed:

"You hide it well… but I can feel it. Your gift… it is like mine."

Her fingers froze on the phone. Her gift. The ability she had barely begun to understand, the ability that had made her senses explode after the accident.

Her chest tightened. Gift? He called it a gift. And in his mind, perhaps, it was something more—a bond between them.

Her pulse thundered as the implications hit her. He wasn't just a killer. He wasn't just someone who read minds. He was someone like her.

He wanted her to know it.

"We are connected," another message appeared.

Aria felt a shiver crawl up her spine. She could no longer deny the truth: the whispers, the feeling of being watched, the terrifying awareness in the crowd—this wasn't random. He had been trying to reach her all along.

Her phone buzzed once more.

"Soon… you will understand. We are meant to be together."

Aria's breath caught. Together? The word made her stomach twist. She wanted to delete the messages, to run, to hide. But somewhere deep inside, a flicker of fear and curiosity battled with the rising panic.

What did he mean by 'the same'?

The worst part—the part that made her skin crawl—was that she felt it. The connection. A thread, fragile but real, linking her to someone who should have been a stranger, but was now frighteningly close.

Alone in her apartment, Aria pressed her hands to her temples, trying to block out the voice in her head. But it wasn't just the phone anymore. It wasn't just the messages. It was him—inside her thoughts, reaching toward her mind, claiming a connection that terrified her.

He's obsessed with me, she realized, voice barely above a whisper.

She knew, with a sinking certainty, that this obsession would only grow.

CHAPTER 12 — The Obsession

Aria couldn't sleep that night. Every shadow in her room seemed alive, every creak of the old floorboards a warning. And her phone… it vibrated again, a single message lighting up the dark.

"You are mine."

Her stomach churned. She backed away from the screen as if the words could reach out and touch her. His obsession was no longer subtle. He didn't just want to hunt her—he wanted to claim her, to make her a part of him.

Another message followed almost immediately.

"Together, we can understand. Together, we can be powerful. We are the same."

Aria's hands trembled as she read. She pressed them against her face, trying to calm her racing heart. She felt violated—not physically, but mentally. He wasn't just watching her, he was inside her mind, probing, reaching, trying to convince her that she belonged to him.

The words were intoxicating in the most horrifying way. He had sensed her ability the moment she survived the accident. And now, he was obsessed with binding her to his twisted purpose.

She whispered into the darkness of her apartment, words she barely recognized as her own:

"No… I'm not like you. I will never be like you."

But the phone buzzed again. Another message, simple, chilling:

"You already are."

Aria sank to the floor, clutching her head. She could feel it—the thread connecting her to him, the pull of his mind searching for hers, the obsession growing stronger with every heartbeat.

He wasn't just a killer anymore. He was a shadow in her thoughts, a constant presence, a force trying to bend her will. She knew, deep down, that he wouldn't stop until he either had her—or destroyed her.

Aria sat on her bed, the room dark except for the pale glow of her phone resting on the nightstand. The quiet of her apartment usually helped her think, helped her breathe, helped her pretend for just a few hours that the killer wasn't still out there.

But tonight, the silence was broken—not by a sound in the room, but by something far worse: the voice inside her head.

Not her own thoughts. Not the echoes of the town. But his.

It began softly, almost like a murmur, as if he were speaking to himself while pacing a dark room somewhere far away.

"First, she panics… then she runs… always running… panic makes them predictable."

Aria froze. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. He wasn't just thinking aloud—he was rehearsing. Rehearsing murders. Like a script.

"I watch them in the crowd… I watch their eyes… fear makes them loud. I feed on that… I wait until they are alone…"

She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to block the words, but they didn't stop. Every line played vividly in her mind, every action calculated, every step meticulously planned.

"…And when she reaches the alley… she will pause… and I will be there. She thinks she is alone… she never is."

Aria's knees shook. It was like being trapped in a nightmare she couldn't wake from. The killer wasn't just hunting randomly anymore. Every movement, every detail, every choice of victim was thought out, rehearsed like a performance, and she could see it all in her mind.

"I like how she hesitates… she always hesitates… makes it easier…"

Her fingers dug into the sheets, trying to ground herself, but the whispers continued. They weren't chaotic anymore. They were precise, almost mechanical, like a story being read aloud just for her.

"…Yes, and the next one… the fear… the panic… the guilt… they all scream inside… I just need to listen…"

Aria's stomach churned. She could feel him imagining the kills, seeing them unfold in her mind, predicting the reactions of his victims as if he had a script written years ago, waiting to be performed.

"…They never see me coming… They only feel me after it's done… but Aria… she is different… she knows too much…"

Her breath caught. He knew she could hear him. He was rehearsing while knowing she was listening. Every word, every line, every calculated move was a challenge thrown at her—mocking her, testing her, daring her.

"…I will find her… she cannot hide… she will run, she will panic… and finally… she will understand…"

Aria's head spun. She could almost picture him, pacing, whispering, smiling to himself as he ran through each detail of his murders like a twisted director perfecting a scene.

She pressed her palms over her ears, but the voice didn't stop. He didn't need to speak out loud. He was inside her mind, and now the rehearsals were a constant, relentless echo she could not escape.

For the first time, Aria understood the depth of his obsession. This wasn't just hunting. This was art to him. Every murder, every fear, every panic attack was carefully staged in his mind before it happened. He wasn't impulsive. He was methodical. And she had a front-row seat to his terrifying script.

"…She is clever… too clever… but cleverness doesn't stop the inevitable… the scene unfolds… the panic rises… and she will see… she will know…"

Aria's fingers shook violently. She felt trapped in a world she didn't want to be part of, one in which she could see the horror before it happened but had no way to stop it.

Then she realized something even worse.

He wasn't just imagining her. He was imagining himself alongside her. Every rehearsed murder, every scene of fear, had a place for her presence in it. Not as a victim, but as a participant in his obsession. She could almost hear him planning how to bend her mind, how to draw her into his world, how to claim her as part of the twisted script he had written in his head.

"…She is like me… she can hear… she can feel… she is the only one who can understand…"

Aria felt a chill sweep through her body. Her hands, her mind, her very being seemed to vibrate with the echo of his rehearsals. She realized the danger she was in—not just physically, but mentally. Every moment she spent hearing him, every whispered line of his rehearsed murders, pulled her deeper into his mind, made her more aware of his obsession, his planning, his control.

The phone buzzed beside her. A message. Simple, cold, deliberate:

"Do you hear it, Aria? Do you see the script? You belong in it."

Aria's breath caught in her throat. The words weren't just a message. They were a declaration. A command. A threat.

Her heart pounded. She could feel his rehearsals like a knife inside her thoughts.

She whispered to herself, voice trembling:

"I will never belong to you. Never."

But the voice inside her mind only smiled, sharp and cold, as it repeated another line of his terrifying script:

"…We are the same, Aria… and soon, you will see."

Aria's fists clenched. She knew that from this moment on, nothing would ever be normal. The killer's rehearsals weren't just visions of what might happen—they were warnings, challenges, and invitations all at once.

She had no choice but to listen.

Chapter 13 — The Script