You just had a very busy day at work. Working in a bank had caused too much stress in your work life that you wish you could just quit the job and start something else. Like maybe, you could fulfill your dream of travelling around the world and become a travel blogger. Or you open your own bakery store in your neighborhood. But you are much of a coward to quit the job, because the job at least gave you stability in your financial situation. You are too scared to quit the job.
You take the subway back to your cozy apartment, too exhausted and too tired. All you wanted right now is to have a nice bubble bath--maybe use your favorite lavender scented bath oils you had recently purchased from Bath and Body Works. You were debating whether to order Chinese takeout or simply settle down with some leftovers lasagna or the chicken curry with pilaf rice you made days before. You feel sleepy, while on the subway and you really can't wait to return home. You have put on your iPod, earphones on, probably listening to some Taylor Swift or Billie Ellish.
Half an hour later, you returned home or apartment as you called. Technically, your real home is miles and miles away from New York which is more comfortable than this cramped apartment you live in Brooklyn. Your current apartment is small, a tiny living room with a kitchen and a bedroom and a bathroom. You dream of moving to a fancy penthouse in Manhattan someday, but that dream seems far fetched. And you miss home, because if you were actually at home, then your mother would have cooked you some dinner and all you can worry about is having a nice bubble bath.
You reach your apartment, and fumbling with your apartment keys. You struggle to open the door. There is always a problem with the lock on the front door but after a few futile attempts, you manage to open the door. You notice that your mailbox is overflowing with mail and so you wearily open the mailbox and grab the mail before heading into the comfort of your apartment. You close the door, lock the door as you are paranoid about locking doors, turn on the lights in the hallway, illuminating your small cramped apartment. You remove your working shoes, your one hand still clutching the letters and your coat, dumping your bag and your keys on the counter by the door before padding into the living room. You dump the letters on the coffee table and then you go into your dream. You need to get out of the work clothes and you need that bubble bath.
Half an hour later, you are sorting out the letters. Bills, those never ending bills, the junk mail and then a simple plain white colored envelope. Your name and your address are written in neat cursive handwriting. You frown, not recognizing the handwriting. A sudden chill swept past through as with shaking hands you open the mysterious letter. You slowly unfold the letter, your heart beating a mile, butterflies running around inside your body. Your head is feeling numb as you stared at the single sentence--just one single sentence written on the white paper, in a red colored ink.
I AM WATCHING YOU LILLY...YOU ARE NEXT
You get cold, your body starts shivering at the tone of the letter. Your first instinct would have been to call the police but you let the thought out of your head. The police would never be able to help you Lilly.
Do you remember one year ago, you were a witness to a murder? The murderer was caught and you thought that you are safe. But what you didn't know is the person, who is in jail at the moment didn't really commit the murder.
You immediately bolts the doors and the windows and with shaking hands, you dial a number. The police? Maybe. You are dialing that nice detective's number--Detective Nicole Amaro who helped you to deal with the stress.
And you still don't recognize the handwriting? What a pity. Because you are one selfish woman. You broke someone's heart long time ago. Yes, you did. You only thought about yourself. You didn't care about anyone but yourself. You want to succeed in your life, didn't let anyone to come in between.
Let me remind you who I really am. You remember your ex-boyfriend, Nathan Schmidt? Of course you do. That pathetic loser was in love with you. He would do anything to win your heart. He would even sacrifice your love. But you kind of used him for your own purpose. You broke his heart. And thanks to you, he committed suicide.
The murder that you saw was actually committed by me. You didn't really recognize me because it has been fifteen years since we saw each other. The one who is in jail, is my twin sister. You can call me the evil twin. And in fact I am.
I can feel you scared, frightful, anxious and nervous. You are probably done with your phone call to the detective or the police. If I come at the door and knock right now, would you answer? I doubt it. Did you know I had been stalking you, monitoring your movements? I loved stalking and watching you. Right now, I am standing right across from your street, imagining what you are doing right now. Poor you. You were just about to have a peaceful night but the thought of someone watching you scared the crap out of you. You wanted to have a good night sleep, since you are going to have another busy day at the bank tomorrow, but now, falling asleep may not probably a good idea for you, since you realize that someone is watching you.
Or maybe, you just roll the paper in a ball and throw it in the dustbin. Maybe you thought it was a junk mail. Maybe you didn't seriously take it. You are doing a huge mistake by doing that Lilly.
Shall I come and knock on the door? You wouldn't probably answer. You would snuggle in a corner, putting your hands on your ears, praying that person would go away. But I didn't.
Well, I am going to kill you no matter what Lilly. Because as the letter said, YOU ARE NEXT.