Chapter 6: Bitter Truths

6.

As expected, after receiving the text, Derek didn't enter. It was quiet outside the bedroom.

Next, I had to do everything I could to survive until the police arrived.

The deadly question appeared again:

Should I "hide" or "block" this time?

I knew very well that once I closed the bedroom door, I would be completely exposed. If I couldn't hold out until the police came, the outcome would be death.

What should I do? What should I do? What should I do!

Time ticked by. Five minutes left until 2 a.m.

Just try it.

I bent down and crawled under the bed again.

Staring at the news page.

No change.

A chill ran through me. I quickly crawled out.

Taking a deep breath, I quickly shut the bedroom door and locked it.

There was an immediate reaction outside—the sound of footsteps approaching.

Then, a loud thud, the door shuddered, the wood creaking.

I shuddered and backed away, rushing to the balcony and diving into the corner bathroom of the bedroom.

I yanked the door shut, locked it, and gasped in terror.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sound of the bedroom door being battered shook my heart, as if my chest was being pounded.

Crack...

The door was smashed open. I sobbed and closed my eyes in despair.

The killer stepped in, and the bedroom light was switched on.

1:58 a.m., two minutes left.

My phone shook in my hand, the news content unchanged:

"A murder occurred in Maple Heights Apartments, Savannah. One victim was stabbed more than ten times and died at the scene."

The footsteps got closer. He had finished searching the closet and under the bed—this was the last place to check.

A blurry shadow appeared on the glass door.

Why aren't the police here yet?

I was so anxious I cried, fumbling to open the drawer under the sink, hoping to find something for self-defense.

Nothing.

Just some toiletries, and...

What was this?

The smell of bleach and lavender from the bathroom cleaner stung my nose as I crouched, knees pressed to my chest. My eyes were drawn to a strange item.

A red hair tie.

A very ordinary women's accessory.

But it shouldn't be here.

Because I had never bought this style.

A hollow laugh slipped out. Figures—at the end of the world, I finally see the truth.

I was too careless—even when the other woman left things at my place, I didn't notice.

Crash...

The bathroom's glass door shattered.

I was sobbing, terrified and bitterly amused.

I never thought I'd be angry about this at the moment of death.

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the killer, gritting my teeth and muttering:

"See you next time."

A lifetime of suspicion and heartbreak, served up in a final, useless flash. If ghosts get the last word, I hope mine haunts both of them.