The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.
That almost never happens.
I stared at my phone on the table.
No message.
"Great," I said.
"So now you're silent."
At school, I felt tense.
Every sound made me look around.
In the first class, my phone vibrated.
I didn't even jump this time.
I was getting used to it.
I checked the screen.
Unknown Number:
You want to know the rules.
I sighed.
"Not really, but go on."
Another message appeared.
Unknown Number:
Rule One: Don't tell anyone.
That sounded simple.
Then—
Unknown Number:
Rule Two: Don't try to find me.
I frowned.
"Already failed that one," I whispered.
One more message came.
Unknown Number:
Rule Three: Do exactly what I say.
I stared at the screen.
"That's not a rule," I muttered.
"That's a command."
I typed carefully:
What happens if I don't?
The reply took a few seconds.
Unknown Number:
You already tested that.
I felt heat on my face.
Yesterday.
The classroom.
The laughter.
I typed again:
That was you?
The answer came immediately.
Unknown Number:
I warned you.
Before I could reply, another message came.
Unknown Number:
Let's test your memory.
My heart beat faster.
Unknown Number:
At lunch, sit at the table near the broken fan.
I blinked.
"That's it?" I whispered.
"That's your big scary test?"
Lunch break arrived.
I walked into the cafeteria.
The broken fan was still there, making noise but doing nothing.
I stood there, looking stupid.
Some students stared.
One laughed.
"Why are you standing there like a statue?"
"Fan inspection," I replied.
I sat down.
Nothing happened.
I checked my phone.
No message.
I relaxed a little.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number:
Look under the table.
I slowly bent down.
Carved into the wood were three letters.
My initials.
My breath caught.
I had carved them there in middle school, years ago.
Nobody knew this.
I straightened up quickly.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number:
Rule One exists for a reason.
I swallowed.
This wasn't about controlling me.
This was about how much he knew.
And that scared me more than the rules.