The Nightmare Begins
The phone kept ringing, a shrill reminder that peace was fleeting. I stared at the screen, my mind oddly still for the briefest second—just long enough to register the name flashing across it: Mom.
My blood turned cold.
I snatched up the receiver. "Mom?"
Her voice came through, thin and trembling. "Ariana... is it true?"
I froze. Something about the way she said my name—like it was an anchor, like she was about to drift into panic without it—knocked the air from my lungs.
"Is what true?" I asked, already knowing, already fearing.
"That Garry... that he’s free. Is it true? Did he get out?" Her voice cracked halfway through, and I heard her inhale sharply, like she was holding in a scream.
I was on my feet before I even realized it, chair rolling back behind me, heart hammering like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.
"No. No, Mom, that’s not true," I said quickly, breathless. "He’s not free. He’s in a hospital, under twenty-four-hour guard. He’s locked down. He’s not going anywhere."
Silence.
Then a broken whisper: "Are you sure? Because I heard your grandfather in his study. He was shouting. He said something about Garry and a mistake and—Ariana, he sounded furious. I—I thought it meant..."
I closed my eyes. The walls of my office blurred, and I had to grip the edge of the desk to stay upright. "No," I repeated, forcing calm into my voice. "He’s not out. He’s not free. He’s in no condition to move, let alone escape. He got stabbed in prison. That’s why he’s in the hospital. He’s not going to hurt you. Or me. Or anyone."
But even as I said it, my voice trembled. Just enough for her to hear. Just enough to crack the illusion of strength I had carefully woven since the moment Garry had been locked away.
Because deep down, I didn’t know. Not for sure. Not anymore.
"Who told you?" I asked.
"I told you," she said, breath hitching. "Your grandfather. I was walking past his study and heard him shouting. He said Garry’s name and something about a mistake, about people getting hurt. He sounded... afraid."
That wasn't possible.
Uncle Garry was locked down. He was restrained to a hospital bed, for God’s sake. I had just seen him. Hours ago. Smug, yes. Delirious with arrogance, absolutely. But free? No.
Yet fear, slick and cold, slithered through my veins.
Somehow, the bastard had managed to worm his way back into our lives. Even from a hospital bed. Even surrounded by guards. He was poisoning everything. Still.
He was affecting my family.
I didn’t say it out loud. But the thought lingered like a curse.
"Mom, listen to me." I steadied my voice, drawing from a well I didn’t know I still had. "He’s not going to hurt us. I promise you. He’s under lock and key. I would’ve known if anything changed. Trust me. You don’t need to be afraid. Not anymore."
Her breathing slowed, but not by much. I could hear the tears in her voice, even though she tried to hide them. "It’s just... every time I think it’s over, he finds a way to come back. Like a nightmare I can’t wake up from."
I closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the phone. "I know. Believe me, I know. But it is over. We survived him. Now we just have to outlast the shadow he left behind."
A beat passed.
"You sound tired," she said softly.
I gave a dry laugh."I'm fine mom,”
"I don’t want you carrying all of this alone. You’re still my daughter, Ariana. I know how strong you pretend to be. But even the strongest people break."
Her words nearly undid me. I turned away from the window, pressing a hand to my temple.
"I’m okay, Mom. I promise. I just— I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me? Please."
She sniffled, then nodded, even though I couldn’t see her. I felt it in the silence that followed.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I’ll try."
"Good. I’ll call Agnes. Just to check in. Have her stay close to you today, alright? If anything—anything—feels off, I want her to call the doctor. No exceptions."
"Alright."
I exhaled slowly. "We’re going to get through this. All of us. One day at a time."
"I love you, Ariana."
"I love you too, Mom. So much."
I hung up before my resolve cracked.
For a long minute, I didn’t move.
The office felt colder now. The air heavier. I stared out at the city skyline, but all I saw were ghosts—memories of everything Garry had taken from us. My childhood. My mother’s light. The ease we used to have around each other, before fear rewired our every instinct.
I finally picked up my phone again and dialed Agnes.
She picked up on the first ring. "Miss Ariana?"
"Agnes, I need you to stay with my mother today. Don’t leave her alone. Not even for a minute. If she looks distressed, or if she says anything strange, I want you to call the family doctor immediately. Understood?"
"Of course, Miss. Is something wrong?"
I hesitated. "Just... a precaution."
"I’ll stay with her. You don’t have to worry."
"Thank you, Agnes. Truly."
After I hung up, I sank into my chair, staring at the edge of the desk like it might offer answers. It didn’t.
My thoughts spiraled. I kept going over every word Garry said earlier. I passed the torch.
To whom?
Who would be willing to pick up where Garry left off? Who would dare?
Everyone in his inner circle was gone. Arrested. Dead. Missing.
Unless…
No. It couldn’t be. That man disappeared three years ago. Vanished without a trace. But if he was the one...
I pushed the thought down. I couldn’t go there. Not yet. Not without proof. Not without certainty.
But still, the air felt thinner.
My phone buzzed again.
Not a call.
A message.
Unknown Number: Was she afraid, Ariana? She should be.
My blood froze.
The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the floor. My heart was in my throat, a painful lump I couldn’t swallow around.
No. No, this couldn’t be happening.
I dropped to my knees, snatched the phone off the carpet, and read the message again.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Was she afraid, Ariana? She should be.
I scrambled to block the number, my fingers shaking so badly I almost dropped the device again. My vision tunneled, a high-pitched hum filling my ears.
Someone was watching us.
Someone knew where my mother was.
Someone was still playing Garry’s game.
And I had no idea who.
I pressed Hardin’s name with frantic fingers. He answered instantly.
"Ariana?"
"Hardin... we have a problem."
I read the message to him.
Dead silence.
Then his voice, tight with rage. "Get out of the office. Now. I’ll meet you at your place."
"But—"
"No arguments. I’m not taking chances. We don’t know who’s watching. I’ll call in surveillance for your mother. You go straight home. Lock the doors. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t trust."
I nodded, swallowing the scream lodged in my throat. "Okay."
"We’re going to figure this out. I promise. But right now, you do exactly what I say. Understand?"
I grabbed my coat, phone clutched tight in one hand, keys in the other. "I understand."
"Good. I’ll see you soon."
The line went dead.
And so did any illusion that we were safe.
Not while his shadow still lingered.
Not while someone else had picked up his torch.
Not while the fear was alive and breathing in the corners of our lives.
I stepped into the elevator, heart pounding like war drums in my chest. The descent to the ground floor felt like an eternity.
And I knew—this wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning of the next nightmare.