Amelia's instincts screamed at her to go back inside, but she forced herself to stay. She had to know. The movement in the shadows had been too real to ignore.
Her eyes darted from house to house, searching for any sign of life. The morning fog made everything eerily still. And then - just beyond the tree line - a dark figure stood motionless.
A gasp caught in her throat. The figure was tall, unnaturally so, with a shadowy outline that seemed to blend into the mist. It wasn't moving, yet she could feel its gaze locked onto her.
Every muscle in her body tensed. She blinked once. Twice. And when her vision cleared, the figure was gone.
Heart hammering, she spun on her heel and rushed back inside, slamming the door shut. She locked it - deadbolt and all - before pressing her back against the wood, breathing heavily.
Her phone. She needed to call someone. Anyone.
With shaking hands, she grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter and dialed the first number that came to mind - her best friend, Lucas.
"Come on, pick up," she whispered.
The ringing seemed endless, each second stretching unbearably long. Then, finally, a click.
But no voice greeted her.
Just static.
Amelia's breath hitched. "Lucas?"
The static crackled, morphing into something else - something she could barely comprehend. A whisper. Faint. Distant.
Then, as clear as day, a voice rasped through the speaker:
"He's watching."