The Truth That Waits

“You shouldn’t drink with your patient like this,” I shot back.

We had this rhythm—teasing that tip-toed along the edge of a line neither of us admitted we wanted to cross.

“Healthy therapists don’t hang out with their patients at midnight in October.”

“Best friends,” he corrected softly. “That’s our cover story, remember?”

“Right, and I’m the emotionally stable one in this trio,” came a voice from the sidewalk, dry as the leaves crunching under her boots. Alex climbed the porch steps, thermos in hand. “Also, I brought snacks. Because nothing says ‘healthy coping mechanisms’ like sugar and denial.”

So remind me again—where are we in the Harry Potter trilogy? It’s *The Prisoner of Azkaban*.

When Axcel hit play, the opening credits roared so loud the windows rattled. I winced. “Cool. If you were aiming for surround-sound migraine, nailed it.”

“Sorry!” Axcel said.

“OK, grandma,” Alex retorted. “Volume is half the trauma.”

“So is trusting Axcel with the remote. And speaking of… Kyle’s been asking for you.”

I sighed. “Ah, the prodigal disaster. Confetti or fire extinguisher?”

***

The morning sun was a persistent optimist. I woke before my alarm, fumbled for my phone, and called Alex.

No ring, just static. “Speak,” she said.

“Rise and shine. Halloween decoration mission is a go.”

A hollow silence. “Does it involve sunlight?”

“Unfortunately. Is Axcel making his ‘hauntingly bad’ pancakes?”

“Hey!” Axcel’s voice cut in. “They’re immersive!”

“If by immersive you mean a heavy metal concert in a sensory deprivation tank, sure. Noon. Don’t be late.” As I hung up, I heard Alex whisper, “Axcel, is it cold in here?”

“Yeah. Freezing.”

I made coffee, my phone’s news headlines blurring into nonsense. Reaching for sugar, I knocked the jar off the counter. It shattered, a shard slicing my foot. “Dammit.” I never left it that close to the edge.

Later, with Axcel and Alex, a girl bumped into them and didn’t apologize. “Rude,” I muttered as we entered our usual restaurant. “You two grab the table. I’ll order.”

In the library nook, a hand grabbed my wrist. Kyle kissed me, hard, knocking books off a shelf.

Shock ignited. I kneed him in the groin. He doubled over. “Damn it, Artemis.”

I wiped my mouth. “Wrong move.”

“Worth it.” He noticed my favoring my foot. “What happened?”

“None of your business.”

He pulled me close, his breath hot. “Pushing me away just means I’m under your skin.”

“Let go of me!” I shoved against his chest.

“Let her go.” A man’s voice cut through the air. He was tall, muscular. He pulled Kyle off me. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said, coolly. “He was leaving.” I glared at Kyle. “Now.”

Kyle left, seething.

“Thank you,” I said to the stranger.

“Ian. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” A food buzzer startled me.

“What is that?”

“My order. Join us? My friends are here.”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

But the table was empty. A text from Alex: *Had to leave. Catch you at your place.*

“Ditched,” I said. “Lucky you, I ordered too much.”

Two hours vanished in easy conversation. “I should go. My friends…”

Ian handed me a card. “Dr. Ian Frost.”

“Another doctor?” I joked.

“Redeem the title. Dinner? Friday?”

“Sure.”

“My number’s on the back.”

At home, the smell of onions welcomed me. Axcel cooked; Alex lounged. “Hey. Why’d you leave?”

They shared a blank look. “We just… had to go,” Alex said.

“Did you see Kyle? He was at the restaurant.”

Alex smirked. “Kyle? Yeah.” She wiped her mouth. “I’ve got his saliva right here. It’s fine if you hang out. No need to hide it.”

A *WHUMP* from the kitchen. Flames roared from a skillet.

“Axcel! The burner’s on three!”

“Oh,” he said, staring at the fire.

“Sit down,” Alex ordered, her voice flat.

I sat. Axcel fumbled a knife. It spun, embedding in his foot with a sickening thud. He looked down, curious. Blood pooled.

“What’s wrong with you?” I gasped. “Do you feel that?”

“Do we pull it out?” Alex asked.

“NO!” we shouted together.

“Hospital. Now.”

“The clinic’s closed,” Axcel said, eerily calm.

I remembered Ian’s card. “I know a place.”

***

I burst into Ian’s office. “My friend! Knife through his foot!”

Ian calmly guided Axcel to a chair and prepared a syringe. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

Axcel looked at me, desperate. “You can see me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Both of us?” Alex pleaded.

“Yes! Why?”

“Then wake up!” Alex hissed. “Before it’s too late! Find us!”

I looked down. The knife was gone. His foot was fine.

“What’s happening?”

Axcel gripped my wrist. “Wake up. *Now.*”

Pain spiked in my thigh. Ian withdrew a syringe. “It’s okay.” As darkness took me, I saw the TV headline: **MISSING: Dr. Axcel Evans and Alex Rivers.**

***

I woke restrained in a hospital bed. Ian watched me. “You had an episode. Your friends… they’re missing. They weren’t with you.”

“I have to find them!”

“The police will handle it. You’re not well.” I saw his resolve. I had to be smart.

I slumped, defeated. “You’re right. I’m so tired, Ian.”

He left. I worked my hands free, slipped out, and fled.

Outside, Kyle emerged from shadows. “Artemis. They’re missing.”

“You think?” I walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“To find them.”

“I’m coming.”

“No.” He grabbed my arm. “They’re my friends too!”

I slapped him. “Follow me, and you’ll disappear like they did.”

In Axcel’s apartment, I found his laptop. An email from ‘K’:

**Axcel:** *Your ‘portrait’ is obsession. Back off.*

**K:** *She can decide. Give it to her.*

**Axcel:** *I’m never giving it to her.*

I found the painting in a back room—a stunning charcoal of me, signed with a single, elegant *K*.

“Oh, Kyle,” I whispered. “Get over me.”

On Alex’s laptop, a final chat:

**Axcel:** *He’s at it again. Invasive.*

**Alex:** *Meet him. End this.*

**Alex:** *The old mill. 5 PM.*

***

The mill was a rotting skeleton in the rain. “Alex! Axcel!”

A hand gripped my shoulder. Kyle. “I followed you. I’m looking for them too.”

“You went after them to get to me?”

“You cut me out!”

“You should’ve listened!” I headbutted him. He crumpled.

Inside, I found them—bound, gagged, but alive. I called 911. As I loosened Alex’s ropes, a shadow fell. Pain exploded in my skull.

***

I woke in the hospital. Ian was there. “Safe now. You saved them.”

“Detective Ryan! It was Kyle. He was at the mill. I have emails. Arrested?”

“We only found you three.”

“He’s still out there!”

Ryan left. I tried to rise.

“No.” Ian kissed my forehead, guiding me back. “Rest. I’ll watch them.”

He left. Dread seized me. I stumbled to my friends’ room. Ian and Kyle fought. Ian bashed Kyle’s head against the floor.

“It’s over,” Ian said, serene.

A nurse hurried in. “Dr. Frost? Kye, we need you.”

*Kye.* The initial *K*. Not Kyle.

I saw his ID on the floor: *Dr. Ian Kye Frost*. I handed it to him, cold. He pretended to check vitals, a scalpel glinting.

I grabbed an IV pole. He caught it without looking. “Now, Artemis.” He ripped it away, pinning me to the wall, hands on my throat. “You should’ve stayed out. I should’ve finished Kyle.”

I kneed his groin. He roared, hurling me onto a surgical cart. A scalpel stabbed my thigh. I screamed.

He loomed. “We’ll be together.”

I yanked the blade free and stabbed his shoulder. He tore it out, dragged me, and slammed me against a wall. My vision sparked.

“Nothing will take you from me.”

An arm locked around his throat. Kyle held him, struggling, as Detective Ryan tasered Ian. “You’re done, Doctor.”

Kyle knelt by me. “Artemis. Wake up. It’s over. They’re safe.”

I woke in a hospital room. Axcel slept, head on my stomach. Kyle held my hand.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

“I’m here now.”

I looked at the lights. “What if this isn’t real? What if I’m still dreaming?”

He cupped my face. “No way to know. But I promise I’ll be here, in whatever this is.”

“Promise?”

Promise