The Silver Dagger

Jared doesn't know why or how, but one thing's for certain: Someone is trying to kill him.

It started on Monday that morning. He just got back from attending his cousin's wedding, relieved of the stress from planning with them on their special day. His body screamed with all the movements he made, but he still had to go into the office that day.

It was when he got out of his apartment when he found it. He almost walked into an object buried halfway into his door, nearly taking his eye out.

It was a dagger. Even half buried in the door, he could tell it was about the size of his forearm. It shines in any light that hits it as if it was silver, with a sharp, scarlet red ruby making up most of the pommel.

Jared would not ignore the obvious fact that it was a threat. He tried to pry the dagger out of his door as best as he could, but his fatigue wouldn't allow it. Instead, he took a picture, headed straight into his car, called the police, and hoped it got resolved while he was out for work.

Then, when the monotony of the numbers before him was close to numbing his mind to everything, he gets a call from the police. The dagger was missing. While there was a slot in the door left behind, there was no proof it was by a weapon. He asked to report it, as he has photo evidence it was there. They tell him he needs to come down to the station.

Frustrated, Jared has to do nothing but work for the next 7 hours. The police station is too far to reach on any of his breaks. With the weapon missing, it was harder to concentrate. He didn’t know why anyone would threaten him.

The best plausible suspect he could think of was during the wedding, his recent ex barged in and tried to propose to him during the reception. It took him and three of his gym buddies attending to kick him out. To say there was a reason would be an understatement.

Then again, he had never brought up his address, but that couldn’t rule it out entirely. He would have noticed the dagger in the past, though, as it was rather striking, and he seemed the type. But he would never go near anything sharp, so…

He took his lunch break early. He forgot to eat something before leaving for work.

Once his shift finally ended, he went to his car, only to find the same silver dagger stabbed through the hood. He took a picture of it first thing and drove to the station in a mad frenzy only contained with the need to not get a ticket for speeding. There was something wrong with it. He just wasn't sure what.

That dagger did not leave his sight, never looking away from it for more than half a second. He called an officer over just to keep his eyes glued to it. He even asked them to help him dislodge it out of the hood. No luck to be had for either.

Then, like a fool, he looked away for a couple of seconds to talk to the officer. Only to look back to find it gone. He checked the hood to see if it might have slipped into it, but it was simply missing. Thankfully, there was mercy for him from some god or something, because the officer saw it before its disappearance, and was just as confused.

He reported it in — photo evidence and all, and the officer who witnessed it promised to get a patrol out in his area. For now, though, the best he could do was advise him to lock his doors and windows.

His tread from his car to his apartment had never felt heavier. A sense of impending doom hung over his head. His own heart felt like it was trying to escape from his ribcage, as if it knew something he didn't.

His exhaustion was no longer easy to hide. Jared had to drag himself to his door. A cut to his bicep startled him awake. It seemed to have come from nowhere until he looked at the door. He caught himself on something sharp protruding out of it.

Panic settled in. He scratched every inch around the keyhole before shoving the key in and slammed the door open. It was the dagger.

Inside his apartment.

Which leads us here. Jared has locked himself in his car, pocket knife in hand, calling the police in teary-eyed horror to come to his area as soon as possible. There's a sound the operator can hear even from the other end of his phone.

The sound of someone he can't see pounding the silver dagger against the car windows, waiting for them to break.

He curls up into his seat, screwing his eyes shut as he listens to the operator's attempts to console him. He can hear the windows slowly cave in to the attacker. The cracks grew worse, the strikes more violent. The silence beyond is more despairing by the second.

The window in the backseat breaks.

That's when he heard the distant sirens.

And just like that, that's the only sound he hears. He looks behind him to find the same dreadful dagger, lying on the backseat like a cat sitting close to the canary's cage: Feigning innocence, despite its obvious intent.

Now that it's evidence, no one had left it out of their sight and transferred it into the police station. With all threats cleared of his apartment, Jared takes the moment of peace to pass out and not wake for another 12 hours, planning to call off work the next day.

When he wakes up, he answers to a banging on his door from the frantic officer who saw it with him. The dagger went missing from the evidence room.

It took him a day to pack up essentials and move.