Read previous installments of Myra here

Myra threw her phone down on the couch and backed away. She ran to the door of Jay’s apartment and made sure it was locked. The deadbolt was secure, as were the locks on every window in every room. When Myra felt there was no way anyone could get in, she slowly approached her phone.

“I know where you are, Myra.”

“I know where you are, Myra.”

“I know where you are, Myra.”

“I know where you are, Myra.”

The next message was a photo of Myra checking the locks on the living room window, the last one she checked just a few minutes ago. The perspective seemed as if the photographer was right behind her as she reached up and pushed on the window’s latch.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart pounded. She felt sick to her stomach. How could someone have taken that photo? She was alone. She was sure of it.

Myra dialed the police.

When the cops knocked on the door a few minutes later, she was hesitant to undo the latch. She had placed herself in the far corner of the living room with her back to the wall so no one could sneak up behind her. The corner also offered the widest point of view of the apartment. The police had to knock five times and threaten to break down the door before she had the nerve to get up and let them in.

“Miss, there’s nothing here,” the officer said gently after the officers surveyed the whole apartment and checked her cell phone for the messages.

“Wha…What?”

“Your phone,” he said. “There are no messages from an unknown number threatening they know your whereabouts. There is no photo either. The last text is from someone named Jay asking if you are alright. It’s from this morning.”

Myra snatched the phone from the officer, realizing afterward she may have been a little too aggressive with law enforcement. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Her fingers frantically searched her messages, but he was right. They were gone. Every single message had vanished.

“I…I don’t understand…”

“Miss,” the officer interrupted as carefully as he could. “You’ve been through a lot. Is it possible you were asleep and…”

“NO!” Myra cried. “No…no…I know what I saw. I wasn’t asleep!”

The officer put his hands up, gesturing for her to calm down.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Well, as you can see, there is nothing here, so we really can’t do anything.”

Myra nodded, but the sick feeling in her stomach intensified.

“I know what I saw,” she whispered. The officer nodded sympathetically and reminded her that if anything else happened, she could call them back.

After the cops left, Myra sat on the couch. She was confused, scared, and angry. Was she losing her mind? The picture. She saw the photo as clear as day on her phone. She was sure of it.

Ping.

Myra checked her messages.

“The police can’t help you, Myra.”