July 26th, 2026
Five long, surprisingly quiet days.
The usual tension that hung in the air like a loaded gun had faded… or at least, retreated into the shadows. Ruth had become oddly silent. No sudden appearances. No cryptic glances. No whispered confessions of obsession. Just… nothing.
Ian noticed the change immediately.
It was unnerving at first. He kept expecting her to pop up at work, to watch him from afar, to smile that smile - the one that made his skin crawl and his heart race at the same time. But she didn't. Not once.
And for a brief moment, he allowed himself to exhale.
Maybe she got bored.
Maybe she found someone else to stalk.
Maybe she realized he wasn't worth the trouble.
Or maybe, just maybe, she was done with him.
The thought gave him a strange sense of relief. The kind of fragile peace a soldier feels when the gunfire stops - not because the war is over, but because it's too quiet. A ceasefire before the next massacre.
Still, Ian held onto that sliver of calm with tired fingers.
Each morning, he woke up to the silence of his small apartment and the hum of his broken refrigerator. Each evening, he walked home from the diner where he flipped burgers, scrubbed floors, and smiled at strangers who didn't care if he lived or died. And for once, Ruth wasn't hiding behind any of them.
No notes.
No texts.
No sightings.
Just silence.
It should've been comforting. But instead, it felt like the pause before a scream.
At the apartment - 9:10 PM
On the evening, Ian dragged himself up the rusted stairs of his apartment complex. His shirt clung to his back from the humid air, and his legs ached from standing too long. His hands smelled like onions and burnt grease.
He just wanted a cold drink, a shower, and five minutes of stillness.
But peace wasn't home tonight.
As he reached the second floor, someone stepped into his path.
"Ah, Ian," the voice snapped. Dry. Bitter. Impatient.
Ian looked up.
It was Mr. Kosuke - his landlord.
An older man with a gut that barely fit into his stained tank top and eyes that had long forgotten how to blink with kindness. His breath reeked of tobacco and sour beer.
Ian immediately felt the weight in his stomach drop.
"Hey," Ian mumbled, already feeling the headache behind his eyes.
Kosuke didn't smile. "We need to talk."
"Now?"
"You think rent waits?"
Ian rubbed the back of his neck, tried to play it cool. "I know I'm late. I had to spend a bit more on food this week. Things got tight. But I'll pay on the due date, I promise."
Kosuke's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You think I give a damn about your groceries? I want my money."
"I just need two more days."
"You had thirty," Kosuke snapped, jabbing a finger into Ian's chest. "Thirty days, and what do I get? Excuses. You think I run this place on promises, kid?"
Ian didn't reply. He was too tired. Too drained. The weight of his week, of his month, of his whole damn life, suddenly pressed against his shoulders like gravity had turned against him.
Kosuke leaned in, voice sharp like broken glass. "Two days, Ian. That's it. If I don't get paid by then, I'm changing the locks. You can sleep in the gutter for all I care. You'll be one of those rats begging for scraps in the alley."
Ian's jaw clenched. His heart wanted to fight back, but his body couldn't find the strength. He just… nodded.
No words.
No argument.
Just a quiet, pitiful nod.
Kosuke scoffed and walked away, muttering curses under his breath.
Ian stood there for a moment, staring at his front door like it was a coffin.
Then he walked in.
The air inside was stale and warm. The overhead bulb flickered as if deciding whether to give him light or darkness. He didn't bother taking off his shoes.
He just slumped into the old wooden chair by the window. The one with a wobbly leg and peeling paint. The only piece of furniture that hadn't given up on him yet.
He stared out into the orange-lit alley behind the building. Neon signs buzzed faintly in the distance, glowing like lies.
His body was still. But inside, something cracked.
His chest ached - not from pain, but from the kind of exhaustion that seeps into the soul. The kind that makes you question every decision, every path, every breath.
How did it get this bad?
He had dreams once. Hopes. A future.
Now? He had grease-stained uniforms, empty cupboards, and the threat of homelessness breathing down his neck.
He thought about his family from the orphanage back in South Carolina, USA - people he hadn't spoken to in years. Friends who disappeared once the fun stopped. Lovers who came and went like passing storms.
And then… Ruth.
That damn ex - girlfriend of his.....
She wasn't here now. But her silence echoed louder than any scream.
Part of him missed her chaos. At least when she was around, he felt… alive. Hunted. Needed, in some twisted, terrifying way.
Now, all he had was quiet. And that quiet hurt.
He buried his face in his hands, fingers trembling. Not from fear.
From hopelessness.
He wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn't come. Just a dry breath and a wet sting behind his eyes.
Was this it?
Was this all life had left for him?
He didn't know.
But as the clock ticked on and the night grew colder, Ian realized something terrifying.
He didn't care anymore.
Not about the rent.
Not about Kosuke's threats.
Not about tomorrow.
He just wanted to feel… something.
And in the distance, like a whisper on the wind… he swore he felt eyes watching.