The words on the screen were a brand, searing themselves into my mind.
Liza: Night, Sam-chan.
Sam: Liza. When you go to sleep tonight… make sure you lock your door.
The three dots appeared, a hesitant pulse in the dark. For a moment, I thought she'd just ignore it, write it off as another piece of my newfound, trauma-induced weirdness.
Liza: Eh? Why? Is something wrong? You're starting to scare me, Sam…
My thumbs hovered over the keypad. How could I explain a fear that had no name? A dread that was just a cold spot in my gut? I couldn't tell her I was being hunted by a faceless 'client.' I couldn't tell her I'd seen a sickness of the soul manifest on a quiet suburban street.
I couldn't protect her with the truth. So I would have to protect her with a lie.
Sam: Just a bad feeling. Please, Liza. For me.
The reply was almost instant.
Liza: …Okay. If you say so. Night for real this time. 😴
