The Stalker Next Door: 13. The Second Shadow

The next morning, she dragged herself to work like a corpse in borrowed skin. The ribbon still circled her wrist, hidden under her sleeve. He had left it there deliberately. A collar disguised as silk.

In the bathroom mirror, she caught sight of herself. The flushed lips. The shadow of teeth marks at her throat. Her own eyes, wide and frantic, like a deer who knows the hunter is near.

She splashed her face with cold water. Get a grip, Mara. Don’t let him win.

But then she thought of the second shadow, silent and patient, waiting with a note pressed to glass. Her stomach turned over. Was he the answer? Or another trap?

By evening, she couldn’t avoid her apartment anymore. The walk home felt endless, every corner humming with unseen eyes. She thought she saw him once — the hooded figure — leaning against a lamppost, half-shrouded in shadow. But when she blinked, he was gone.

Her watcher was there, of course, when she opened the door.

He sat in her c