Chapter 2 Out by her house

THEA

My eyes snapped open, my chest heaving as air rushed violently into my lungs.

I was gasping, my hands tangled in the bedsheets, my entire body soaked in a cold, sticky sweat. The dark figure was still burned into the inside of my eyelids. In my dream, he had been standing over Maya’s lifeless body, his face shadowed, laughing a low, haunting laugh that vibrated right through my bones.

“You’re next,” his voice had screamed inside my head, echoing over and over until it was deafening. “You’re next, Thea! You’re next!”

And then, right in my face, his dark hand had dangled that withered, dead red rose, its dry, brittle petals falling apart and touching my skin like ice.

I sat upright in bed, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it would burst. I clutched my shirt over my chest, staring wild-eyed at the morning sunlight streaming through my bedroom window.

It was just a dream. I was safe in my room.

Except I wasn't safe. Not really. Because Maya was dead, and I had seen the man who killed her.

Shaking violently, I threw off my blanket and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet barely touched the cold floor before I threw open my door and rushed down the stairs, desperate for the sound of another human voice to drown out the screaming inside my head.

The comforting smell of sizzled bacon and toasted bread filled the kitchen. My mother was standing at the stove in her silk robe, a spatula in hand, humming quietly to herself.

The contrast between her peaceful morning and the horror screaming in my mind almost made me throw up.

Right on the kitchen counter, the small television was turned on, tuned into the local morning news.

“…police are currently investigating the brutal homicide that took place late last night on the campus grounds,” the news anchor’s grave voice echoed through the kitchen. “The victim, a promising young figure skater, was found unresponsive in an alleyway near the music department. Authorities have confirmed a single, dry red rose was found at the scene, leading investigators to believe the Red Rose Killer has struck again. The suspect remains at large, and his identity remains completely unknown—”

I froze at the bottom of the stairs, my eyes glued to the television screen. They showed a photo of Maya. She was smiling, her blonde hair caught in the wind, wearing her blue performance dress.

A heavy, suffocating weight slammed onto my chest. Every detail from the night before flooded back into my head in a terrifying rush: the sharp smell of metal and blood, the puddle on the cold stone, Maya’s twisted limbs, the tall, shadowed man leaning against the wall, taking a drag from his cigarette.

The orange glow of the lit tip. The black crown-and-barbed-rose tattoo crawling up his neck.

His eyes locking onto mine across the dark gap.

“Thea? Good morning, sweetheart.” My mother turned around with a warm smile, but her expression quickly dropped when she saw my face. She set the spatula down and glanced back at the TV screen. “Oh, goodness. Did you see this news? Isn't that right near your university? Right near your skating building?”

I couldn't answer. My throat was completely dry, locked up in a tight, painful knot. I just stood there staring at Maya’s picture on the screen, my hands trembling uncontrollably at my sides.

“Thea?” My mother stepped closer, her brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did you know her?”

Her voice sounded like it was coming from under water. I could see her lips moving, but the loud thumping of my own pulse was roaring in my ears.

He picked up the phone. He answered my call. He knows someone was in that alley.

“I—I have to go,” I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper.

Before my mother could say another word, I turned on my heel and scrambled back up the stairs. I burst into my bedroom, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps. I stripped out of my sweat-soaked pajamas with frantic fingers, pulling on a plain grey hoodie, dark jeans, and my sneakers. I didn't care what I looked like. I just needed to move. I needed to do something.

I grabbed my keys and my phone from the nightstand and rushed back down the stairs.

“Thea, wait!” my mother called out from the kitchen, stepping into the hallway to block my path. She held a cup of coffee, looking at me with deep confusion. “Where are you going in such a rush? You haven't even touched breakfast.”

“I just... I have somewhere I need to be,” I said numbly, keeping my eyes fixed on the front door handle.

“Well, don't forget about tonight,” she instructed, her tone turning firm yet gentle. “We have that important dinner at eight o'clock. My fiancé and his family will be  coming over, and I need you home on time. I want you to make a good impression.”

“Okay,” I muttered, not even registering what she was saying. “Eight o'clock. I’ll be back.”

“Thea, I'm serious. Don't be late—”

I didn't wait to hear the rest. I shoved the front door open, stepped out into the crisp morning air, and hurried toward my small sedan parked in the driveway.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely fit the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and I threw the car into reverse, backing out of the driveway and speeding off toward Maya’s neighborhood. I knew where her family lived. We had driven there together a dozen times after weekend practices.

The drive was a blur. Every red light felt like an eternity, and every time I checked my rearview mirror, my heart leaped into my throat, half-expecting to see a black hood and a pair of cold, calculating eyes staring back at me.

When I finally pulled up onto Maya’s street, my breath caught.

The curb in front of her family's house was packed with police cruisers, unmarked sedan cars, and local news vans. Red and blue lights flashed rhythmically against the front windows. Two police officers were standing near the front door, while neighbors stood on their lawns in hushed groups. From the open front door, I could hear the muffled, heartbreaking sounds of weeping. Her mother.

I parked my car across the street, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned pure white.

I sat there, frozen in the driver's seat.

Should I go up there? Should I talk to the detectives?

My brain was a chaotic mess of fear and guilt. I had no solid proof. I didn't have his name. I didn't see his whole face clearly in the dark. All I had was a description of a tall guy in a black hoodie, a cigarette, and a dark tattoo of a crown and a barbed rose on his neck. If I went in there and told them, would they even believe me? Or would they think I was making things up out of grief?

And worse... what if the killer found out I went to the police?

He had heard my phone connect. He knew a witness was standing in the shadows. If I spoke up, he would come back to finish the job.

Tears of pure frustration and horror finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning down my cold cheeks. I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, my shoulders shaking as I sobbed quietly in the empty car. Maya was gone. She was my friend, my rival, the girl I had spent hours with on the ice yesterday. She deserved justice. She didn't deserve to be left in a cold alley like trash.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I gasped loudly, jumping in my seat so hard my head almost hit the roof.

My head snapped toward the driver's side window. Standing outside, tapping his knuckle against the glass, was Donnie.

Donnie was one of the senior skaters on the university’s hockey team. He was a familiar face, someone who spent almost as much time around the campus rink as Maya and I did. He looked completely wrecked, his hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying.

Relief and terror fought inside my chest as I quickly hit the button to unlock the doors.

Donnie opened the passenger door, pulled his tall frame inside, and shut the door behind him. The car fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

For a long minute, neither of us said a word. The only sound in the car was the distant wail of a police siren from down the street and the rhythmic flashing of the red and blue lights reflecting off the dashboard.

Donnie leaned back against the headrest, staring blankly out the windshield at the crowd gathered on Maya’s lawn. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.

“I can’t believe it,” Donnie whispered, his voice cracking painfully. “I literally just talked to her yesterday morning near the bleachers. And now... she’s just gone. How could that monster get to Maya?”

I sat completely still, staring straight ahead. My hands were clamped tightly in my lap, hiding the fact that they wouldn't stop trembling. I couldn't form words. My tongue felt like lead.

Donnie turned his head toward me. He looked at my pale face, my red-rimmed eyes, and the way my whole frame was vibrating with tension.

He reached out and gently tapped my shoulder. “Thea?”

I flinched sharply, pulling my shoulder back like his touch had burned me.

Donnie frowned, his eyes softening with deep worry. “Hey... hey, take a breath. What’s going on with you? Why do you look so pale? You’re practically shaking apart.”

I looked at him, my lips trembling. Tell him, a desperate voice screamed inside my head. Tell Donnie what you saw in the alley! Tell him about the tattoo!

But as soon as the thought formed, another darker, terrifying voice cut through it. If you tell him, you put Donnie in danger too. The killer will find out. He will track you down.

Fear won. I swallowed hard, shaking my head frantically as more tears slipped down my cheeks.

“I’m just... I’m just in shock, Donnie,” I lied, my voice shaking terribly. “I can’t... I can’t process that something so awful happened to Maya. She was just at practice yesterday.”

Donnie let out a heavy sigh, running a palm over his face. “I know. It’s insane. The whole campus is losing its mind right now. Everyone’s talking about it.” He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Do you have any idea who it could be? Or why anyone would do this?”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, the image of the crown-and-rose tattoo flashing violently in my mind.

“Some of the guys on the team are saying it has to be a woman,” Donnie continued quietly, talking mostly to himself. “They think only a woman would be crazy enough to target other girls like this out of jealousy. But then other people are saying it’s definitely a guy—some sick, twisted killer who’s been hunting girls all over the city. Nobody knows anything.”

My chest tightened until it felt like my ribs were going to crack. It was a man, I wanted to scream at him. It was a tall, terrifying man with a black crown on his neck!

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingernails bit into the leather.

“Donnie...” My voice came out as a fragile, broken rasp. I turned to look at him, my heart pounding in my throat. “Donnie, what if... what if somebody saw something? What if someone was actually there when it happened?”

Donnie blinked, staring at me with sudden intensity. “What do you mean?”

Before I could answer, before the words could spill out of my mouth, my phone in the cup holder began to buzz loudly, vibrating against the plastic.

The loud noise made us both jump.

I looked down at the bright screen. My mother’s name was flashing across the caller ID.

My breathing was shallow as I picked up the phone with a shaking hand and brought it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Thea? Where did you run off to?” My mother’s voice came through the speaker, stern and demanding. “You need to get back home right now. The caterers are going to be arriving soon, and we need to get the house ready for dinner tonight. You need to calm down, get dressed properly, and help me prepare.”

“Mom, I’m... I’m busy right now—”

“No arguments, Thea,” she interrupted firmly. “Our guest will be here soon. You need to be home by five to help me set the table. Do you hear me?”

I closed my eyes, letting out a weak, exhausted breath. “Fine. I’ll be home soon.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it back into the cup holder. I looked over at Donnie, who was watching me with a worried, confused expression.

“I have to go,” I murmured softly, staring out at the flashing police lights one last time. “My mom needs me at home.”