Chapter 3: The Choice
I quickly typed a distress message and sent it to both.
My thumbs shook so hard I almost dropped my phone. What if they thought I was joking? What if I picked the wrong person?
According to the comments, the guy set a special notification for me—so whoever replied first must be him.
Soon, my phone buzzed.
Derek: [Nat, you okay? I just got back—grabbed some tacos. Did I miss something? Stay where you are. Don’t move. I’ll come find you right away.]
A second later, Marcus replied: [Get out of there now! That guy is a high-IQ psycho—your spot isn’t safe. Run!]
They replied almost simultaneously—but their advice was completely opposite.
Which one is the guy?
I looked up, hoping for a clue in the comments, but my vision was blank—nothing.
As I hesitated, hurried footsteps echoed in the stairwell again.
Was it Derek coming to find me?
No, that’s not right—Derek lives on the top floor, but these steps were coming from below.
It was the killer. He was back!
The footsteps drew closer. My heart hammered in my chest.
I wasn’t close to either Derek or Marcus. I had no way to tell which was the genius guy.
Just then, the floating comments started rolling again.
[Wow, the girl asked the guy for help!]
[Why did she message two people? Who’s the other one?]
[The girl is saved—our big guy is on his way!]
[Are we going to see the guy’s handsome face early? Both leads are so good-looking—I ship it.]
I grabbed onto the hint: handsome?
I thought hard.
Derek was actually voted campus heartthrob when we started college.
I hadn’t seen Marcus since he was a kid, but his grandfather, Mr. Evans, was… not exactly a looker. I doubted his grandson was any different.
So the guy must be Derek.
I chose to trust him and stayed put.
When the footsteps stopped right in front of me, my heart nearly stopped.
"Natalie, are you in there?"
It was Derek!
I pushed aside the stinking trash and looked up at his handsome face. He was panting, carrying a big bag—looked like he’d just come back from a late-night snack.
No wonder—Derek lives on the top floor, but the footsteps I’d heard came from downstairs.
"Nat, you okay? I just got back—grabbed some tacos. Did I miss something?"
Before he finished, I suddenly realized something was wrong.
It hit me: The floating comments said that when the crime happened, the guy was sleeping at home, even though he lived in the same building.
But Derek had just come back from outside…
A chill shot from my feet to the top of my head.
Tap... tap... tap...
Suddenly, slow, measured footsteps echoed behind Derek. My palms went clammy as I pressed my back to the wall, every muscle locked tight. My pulse thudded in my ears as the shadow of a second figure spilled across the dim stairwell wall, stretching long and jagged in the flickering light.
Derek’s eyes widened. He took a step back. The second shadow loomed larger, and my breath caught—because I knew, deep down, that this was the real beginning.