Short Story: Stalking The Dearly Departed – Part Two

“For a long time, I just watched in fascination, not knowing what to do. The woman moved casually around my kitchen as if she knew Emily and I wouldn’t be returning tonight. Then something else caught my eye—a shadowy figure creeping down the hallway behind her. There was something menacing about the way the figure slowly approached. My blood ran cold. I strained my eyes, trying to see more clearly….Then I saw it—the glint of metal as the figure raised an arm. A knife!”

In today’s post, I’m going to be sharing part two of Stalking the Dearly Departed. I’m so sorry for how long this took to publish. I know it has been nearly two-weeks. Ever since the blog homepage broke and I redid the entire site, I’ve been scrambling to get everything fixed. Now all is well. I just need to update every post to fix the font, line height, and format the post better. That shouldn’t take too long! Soon, everything will be updated and finished. I’m really happy with how the new look has come along. I appreciate your patience as I work things out!

Now in the first part of Sophie’s story, where we left off, it all started with a single rose. She thought they were some sort of prank at first but the sense of unease they brought were undeniable. Then came the phone calls. Someone was watching her, of that she was sure. Then her car is vandalizes and the police won’t do anything! With nowhere to turn, Sophie leans on her closest friend, Emily, for comfort through this.

The two woman are trying to figure out who is stalking them. In part two, things begin to intensify. Sophie’s life has taken a disturbing turn when as the target of a mysterious stalker. After enduring months of anxiety and unsettling events. All the tension culminates into a horrifying discovery—she witnesses an unknown woman being murdered in her own apartment from the safety of a friend’s balcony…

Sophie tries to make sense of the terrifying events that have unfolded since moving to Princeton for college. With betrayal, fear, and confusion at every turn preventing her from getting to the truth. She must navigate this nightmarish reality, searching for answers that seem just out of reach. What dark secrets will be revealed, and can she unravel the truth before it’s too late?

PLEASE CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE NOT READ PART ONE

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Stalking The Dearly Departed – Part Two

Written by Samantha Sebesta

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The night air still carried the lingering sounds of laughter, and the distant hum of traffic echoed from where Emily and I sat on Simone’s balcony, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. The evening was refreshingly cold. The flat was tucked into a corner on the top floor of one of Princeton’s more historic-looking buildings. It sat directly across from my own apartment; yet, in these moments, I felt worlds away. 

The balcony resembled an oasis—fairy lights twinkled above us, potted plants sat in the corner, and a table that now held the remnants of our poker game offered a comfortable place to hang out. The evening had been pleasant; I felt at peace for the first time in weeks. 

The city lights glittered far off, a serene contrast against the deepening sky. A few of us had been invited over for a girls-only night by Simone, a fellow literature major. She had this way of drawing everyone together and making them feel welcome with little effort. Most of the girls by this point had gone inside, leaving us out here to chat among ourselves as the night came to an end.

“I’m beat,” Emily said, stretching her arms above her head and trying to hide a yawn. The light made her auburn hair seem to glow, giving her a very lovely enchanted look. She really was growing into herself, and her confidence proved it. “I’m going to head to bed. You coming?”

I shook my head, a small smile on my lips. “Not yet! I want to finish my wine. I’m going to enjoy this a little longer.”

She nodded, her eyes heavy. “Don’t stay out too late. We’ve got that early class tomorrow.” With a wave, she slipped inside. I leaned back in my chair, welcoming the breeze on my skin and taking in a deep, relaxing breath. A perfect end to what had been a long and stressful day.

The quiet was soothing. I sipped my wine, savoring the rich taste as it lingered on my tongue while my mind wandered. My thoughts returned to the unsettling events of the past few months. I couldn’t shake the anxiety that now persisted at all times.

Who had broken into my apartment? There had to be some sort of explanation or solution to stop the constant harassment. My gaze wandered to my apartment windows across the way. The buildings that surrounded the courtyard all seemed peaceful. Most of the residents settled in as the night grew late. All of us were exhausted students; however, as I looked at my apartment, something felt off. 

I stared harder, trying to figure out what was wrong. Then it hit me—the lights were all on, and the curtains were wide open. A shiver ran down my spine as I contemplated the windows. After finding my bedroom destroyed, I could’ve sworn I locked up and closed everything. No, I was sure of it! Emily and I had rushed out, but not before securing the place. I squinted, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

The unease in my stomach turned to confusion when a woman emerged out of my bedroom and sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing a blue dress and moved with an air of familiarity. As if she belonged there, casually opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. From this distance, her features were indistinct, but she appeared young, perhaps a college student. My heart pounded in my chest.

I simply couldn’t believe it. Who the hell was this woman? How did she get into our apartment? My breath quickened as panic crept in. My mind raced with the possibilities as I tried to piece together what was happening. Could my stalker actually be a woman my own age?

For a long time, I just watched in fascination, not knowing what to do. The woman moved casually around my kitchen as if she knew Emily and I wouldn’t be returning tonight. Then something else caught my eye—a shadowy figure creeping down the hallway behind her. There was something menacing about the way the figure slowly approached. My blood ran cold. I strained my eyes, trying to see more clearly. 

Then I saw it—the glint of metal as the figure raised an arm. A knife! The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. The figure was holding a knife and was about to attack! The woman in the kitchen turned just as the pursuer lunged at her. She never even saw him! A scream tore out of my throat. The sound was raw and filled with terror. I watched in helpless agony as the knife struck. Panic surged through me.

Suddenly, I found the strength to move. I leaped from my chair, knocking over my glass of wine, and dashed inside. The apartment was dark and silent—everyone was already asleep. Sprinting through the front, my bare feet slapped against the cold hardwood floors. There wasn’t time to wake anyone. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I fumbled with the lock on the door until I finally managed to wrench it open. 

Bolting out into the hallway, I could see the stairwell looming ahead, narrow and dark. I didn’t care. I flew down the steps in a blur of fear and urgency. Every step felt like an echo of my frantic heartbeat. The sound bouncing off the walls. I nearly stumbled on the last step but caught myself just in time to burst through the door into the courtyard. The night air hit me like a slap, but I didn’t slow down. I couldn’t. 

Darting across the empty space, cutting through the grass. My eyes were locked on the entrance of my building. The courtyard seemed to stretch for miles upon miles. A never-ending maze designed to forever block the way forward. Every shadow now a potential threat. 

My lungs burned, and my legs ached, but I couldn’t stop. The distant wail of sirens grew louder as I neared the entrance. The police had already been called. That was good, hopefully, they would arrive quickly. The thought filled me with hope. Someone else must have heard the screams and made the call. Perhaps one of the neighbors intervened to stop the attack. Maybe the woman wasn’t dead after all.

I finally reached our floor and shoved open the stairwell door. Relief washed over me—until I took in the scene. The hallway was packed with police officers. Their dark uniforms stood out among the crowd of curious neighbors. Red and blue lights from the patrol cars outside flickered through the windows in an unsettling glare. I pushed through the gathering group, my eyes fixed on the apartment ahead.

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Only minutes ago, I had been standing on the balcony, enjoying some late-night wine. My brain finally feeling a little peace after the anxiety I’ve been experiencing. Then I witnessed the murder of a strange woman in my apartment, and now police officers filled the building with all their authority. Everything was surreal and dreamlike. This couldn’t be real. The world felt so distant suddenly. The pounding in my chest wouldn’t go away. I didn’t know what to do. It was difficult to reconcile the two occurrences. How did it all happen so fast? Who was she?

The officer’s voices cut through the chaos in low murmurs as they took control of the crime scene. The odor of blood clung to the air; it was sharp and metallic. The remains of faint perfume were also present, mingling with the cold, clinical smell of the officer’s uniforms. All the familiar warmth and coziness that had been my apartment were gone, replaced by a sinister atmosphere that seemed to pulse with violence.

Then I saw her—Emily. Her small frame tightly wrapped in a blanket as she huddled into herself in the far corner of our living room. The happy disposition she posssesed now utterly shattered as she sat on a lounge chair sobbing uncontrollably with a face streaked with tears. Her body trembled with each ragged breath. The short curls of her hair a tangled mess. The sight of her made my heart clench with sorrow.

There was something I didn’t understand. How had she gotten all the way across the courtyard before I did? Emily, last I had seen, went to bed with the other girls. I vividly remembered watching her walk inside after saying goodnight. So why was she here in the middle of all this? I couldn’t quite puzzle together a problem I didn’t get, one that seemed to have no logical answers. None of this night made sense.

The officers moved around me as if I were a ghost. They were so focused on their tasks, their faces stern and serious as they processed the scene. I stood there, unnoticed by anyone. No acknowledgment of any kind, not even a glance. My eyes grew tired, as if I were seeing everything through a thick pane of glass. My breathing quickened as the anxiety grew. My gaze fell to the floor. Blood. Lots of blood.

Splattered across the carpet, smeared on the walls, even on the edge of a coffee table where the victim must have hit her head during the struggle. It was everywhere! The sight of it made my stomach churn. A cold wave of nausea washed over me. I had only seen the attack from a distance. The gruesome reality of its aftermath was something entirely different. Nothing could have prepared me for so much blood.

My eyes drew towards the center of the room where a white sheet grabbed my attention. It had been draped over the victim’s body. Stains of blood already appearing like ink blots on a piece of paper. My legs grew weak, like they could give out at any moment. She didn’t make it.

The confirmation was like a knife to the heart; sharp and painful. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. There was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. There I stood rooted to the spot. I should have been terrified. The kind of horror that sends you running, screaming for help. Yet, something deeper and more primal compelled me to move closer. I needed to see her face. To know who she was.

Her life had been brutally taken in my home and I couldn’t help but question if I had been the intended victim. There was nothing that would set this devastating wrong right. With slow and deliberate steps, like wading through thick mud, I inched forward. Everyone’s attention was still focused elsewhere. I remained unnoticed. I was grateful for it. I didn’t want to explain what I was doing. I didn’t even know myself.

My breathe hitched in my throat as I reached the body. I leaned down shaking all over, my knees pressing against the hard cold floor. The room seemed to close in around me. The walls pulsing with an oppressive energy that made it hard to think. I had to do this. I had to see.

Slowly, almost reverently, I reached out to grasp the edge. It felt rough under my fingertips. The fabric stiff with dried blood. Every movement felt so loud that I was sure the entire room could hear it. I lifted the sheet, my mind bracing for the sight beneath it. What I saw made the world tilt on its axis. My stomach dropped as if I were on a roller-coaster hurtling out of control. The face staring back at me was mine.

I was staring at my own lifeless body…I was dead. There is no single way to rationalize the impossible. I was standing here; alive. My heart beating, my lungs filled with air, and buoyant as ever. Yet, there I was lying on the floor, my eyes open and unseeing, my skin pale and waxy, and covered in blood. Dead. My brain scrambled to figure out what I was seeing. Everything around me started to blur.

My vision darkened as reality slipped further from reach. My body felt numb and disconnected. Looking down at the horrific scene, it was as if I were floating above myself. The room spun faster and faster—a dizzying whirl of colors and a piercing sound that made my head ache.

Trapped in a body that no longer felt like mine; there was nothing I could do to escape this nightmare. I was paralyzed. The world around me twisted and distorted in a grotesque parody of the life I had known just minutes before. The last thing I remembered before the darkness claimed me was the sheet slipping from my fingers, fluttering back down to cover the face that shouldn’t have been mine. I looked up to see Emily, she was no longer crying. The grief had been replaced now with a smirk I couldn’t understand. Then, mercifully everything went black.

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I had awoken with a start. My body jolted in pain, as if emerging from a suffocating abyss. My head throbbed, and the world seemed a bit hazy. A shifting blur of indistinct shapes and muted colors. After my eyes focused, I quickly realized I was in the kitchen of my apartment, although the chaotic sounds of a crime scene had been replaced by an eerie silence that felt foreign and unsettling. I wondered where everybody had gone. Looking down at myself, I noticed I was wearing a blue dress. The one my grandmother had bought me as a present. 

In my hands was an ice-cold bottle of water that I clutched for dear life, the plastic crinkling with the tightening of my grip. The sink was empty, save for a single dirty dish: a popcorn bowl. The counter was neatly arranged with its usual kitchen clutter. Everything as it should be and how it had been left this afternoon. For a long moment, I stood there thinking, trying to piece together my disoriented state.

Deep within my soul, something told me to look towards the window. An instinctual urge of survival I suppose is what the feeling was. Outside, I could see the balcony where our poker night had taken place. There I was, standing with a glass of wine, scrutinizing the apartment. The sight was a chilling reflection of the night’s earlier events as if frozen in time. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I had seen my death. The whole night had been nothing but a premonition: a warning. I’ve been given a second chance to change my horrible fate and I couldn’t stop to think it through. This was my one opportunity to prevent my murder. The killer I had seen earlier was about to strike, and I had to act fast. There was no clue to explain why I had seen what I had but I knew there were only moments in which I might save my life. With purposeful movement, I set the bottle down on the counter.

My eyes searched for a weapon. Slowly, without making a sound, I reached for a bar stool, stopping to take a deep breath to steady myself in preparation for the impact that was surely coming. The bar stool felt heavier than I thought it was going to but I didn’t see any other objects that were so easily accessible that could knock someone out. No, the stool would have to do. There just weren’t any other options.

The adrenaline was not like anything I had ever felt before and it sharpened my senses to a precision. I could hear the faintest sounds of footsteps, a soft shuffle that my made skin crawl. The killer was drawing closer, and now I had to make my move. With a burst of energy, I lunged forward. Wack! The stool connected to the attacker with a sickening thud. They went spiraling forward crashing into the wall.

I didn’t want to lose the hard-earned momentum, so I geared to swing again, but in the dim light of the hallway, I could finally see the attacker’s face. My blood ran cold. It was Emily. She was the attacker. How could this be? My mind reeled with this new information.

She was my best friend—the person I had trusted more than anyone in this world. The disbelief was palpable. I didn’t know how to process such a betrayal and the horror of this moment. My greatest supporter and confidante was the one trying to ruin my life. No, this couldn’t be true. Emily turned to face me, her eyes wild and filled with a twisted mix of rage and hate leaving no doubt of her intentions. None at all.

“Why, Emily?” I demanded, my voice fighting to maintain composure. The adrenaline that had pushed me into action, giving me the power to fight back, now left me feeling hollow. I was on the verge of shattering into pieces. “Why are you doing this?” I asked again.

Emily’s face contorted into a snarl, her voice bitter. “You never notice me. Not really! You are always so wrapped up in your perfect little life. The scholarships, the effortless success—you had everything handed to you. I worked my ass off to get by and you just left me!”

Her words struck me like a physical blow. Emily’s eyes were wild, filled with years of bottled rage. She glared at me with such a vengeance that I no longer recognized the person before me. She had been twisted by so much jealousy and anger. “Emily… I didn’t know. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know because you didn’t care!” Emily interrupted, her voice rising into a hysterical pitch. “You had everything—Blake, the scholarships, the friends. And what did I have? A drunk father and a miserable life!” She took a step forward, her fists clenched at her sides.

“You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? Even after I tried to ruin you, you just moved on! Blake was supposed to be mine, but you didn’t even care when I lied and told you he kissed Ashley. I wanted to devastate you, and yet you were so happy after the break-up!”

“Wait… what? What are you talking about?” I barely managed to whisper. Blake hadn’t cheated on me? Guilt wracked my heart as I realized what I had done. He had begged me to believe him and had sworn that he never even saw Ashley that night, let alone kissed her. I hadn’t trusted his words. I was crushed and dumped him on the spot. Then I moved to Princeton early to give my broken heart some space.

Emily’s laugh was filled with years of pent-up resentment. “I lied, Sophie. I lied to break you and Blake up, but it didn’t work. You didn’t even flinch! I wanted to see you suffer, just once, to know what it feels like to have your life fall apart. But nothing gets to you, does it?

That was a lie. The breakup had killed something deep inside of me, and now it hurt more knowing that none of it was true. That Emily had manipulated me but as much as that stung, I couldn’t focus on that now. Emily was still dangerous, and I needed to survive.

“Emily, please,” I said, trying to stay calm as possible. My eyes searched for an escape as I tried to find the words that would fix everything. The bar stool was just to my left. “We can talk about this. You didn’t have to lie. I do care about everything you’ve said. I love you!”

At my words, Emily stepped up a bit closer, crazed eyes twinkling. “You know,” she hissed, her voice dripping with dark amusement, “I wasn’t the one stalking you. But watching you spiral, watching your perfect little world crumble—oh, that was fun. Seeing you jump at shadows, constantly looking over your shoulder… It was like watching a show made just for me.”

She laughed with such cruelty before lunging at me, her hands reaching for my throat. I dodged and barely managed to grab the bar stool. We struggled in a desperate dance, the room echoing with the sound of our heavy breathing and clattering furniture.

I swung the stool with all my strength, hitting her side. She cried out and stumbled into the counter. A knife fell from her hand, clattering to the floor. This was my chance. But before I could act, Emily was already on me, her hands tightening around the knife, sticking it straight into my stomach. My vision blurred, and her voice echoed in my ears: “Now you’ll know what it’s like to lose everything.”

I fought, but the world slipped away, and I knew—Emily had won.

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One week later…

Humming to herself contentedly, Emily maneuvered box after box down the staircase of her Princeton apartment. There was nothing that could dampen the sense of triumph she currently felt. The packed boxes represented a fresh start for Emily. She was thrilled about her upcoming Caribbean vacation, which was going to be funded by her wealthy classmate Simone. A gift to Emily for all the “trauma” she had endured during the death of her best friend. The prospect of luxurious pampering in paradise was the perfect excuse for leaving early.

The fact that the police were still on the hunt for Sophie’s killer made staying here a bit risky and had the potential to dampen the sweet taste of victory. Emily wanted to exit quickly, and moving away was a strategic choice. She relished the opportunity to leave behind any loose ends. The campus was still reeling from the shocking murder. At this point, the mourning students were starting to wear down on Emily’s nerves. The sad faces, the memorials that had propped up, and the sympathy cards made her want to roll her eyes. Of course, she couldn’t.

Emily moved swiftly as she packed. Every item of Sophie’s that she diligently wrapped felt like a testament to Emily’s cunning and success. All alone, in the apartment, she couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. Everything had worked out. The jewelry and coins that belonged to Sophie were now in Emily’s possession, and they would garner her a small fortune. The final touch on her carefully orchestrated scheme.

There was one problem however that escaped Emily’s notice because she had been so intently focused on ensuring that her departure went off without a hitch. Sophie’s parents had not yet arrived at the college and Emily was determined to be long gone before they did.

The thought of facing them and seeing their heartbreak or their attempts to hold her accountable filled her with a deep unsettling disgust. Emily couldn’t bear the idea of dealing with their sorrow and accusations. The emotional toll of confronting them was something she was desperate to avoid. Perhaps that is the reason why Emily was oblivious to the fact someone had been watching her every move all week.

Emily rushed the last of the boxes downstairs to her car while trying to decide if she should bring an extra suitcase with her to the Caribbean when her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. Turning, she saw Tony Ortiz, the building’s maintenance manager.

He approached with a somber expression and Emily’s initial instinct was not kind but she managed to suppress her irritation. “Hello,” Tony said, his voice carrying a note of genuine sadness. “I wanted to give you my condolence and tell you I’ve got some of Sophie’s things.”

Valuables that might include more jewelry? The thought of such an unexpected bonus tantalized Emily, especially since she hadn’t found the most expensive of Sophie’s stuff while packing. This is where they must be. Her heart quickened, “Oh, thank you, Tony,” Emily replied, her voice tinged with false humility. “I appreciate that. I can make sure her parents get them. I’m taking most of her stuff to them as we speak.”

Tony nodded and gestured toward the building. He seemed to believe Emily’s lie. “I’ll show you where they are.”

The mundane details of Tony’s offer seemed a minor inconvenience compared to the payout. Emily followed him down into the dimly lit basement, her mind already calculating how to finalize her departure. She watched as he unlocked a door marked “maintenance.”

At first glance, the room appeared ordinary. The shelves lined the walls filled with cleaning supplies and tools that one would expect to find in such a space but Tony flicked on the lights which revealed something far more sinister. The back wall at the end of the long room were adorned with photographs and mementos of Sophie—snapshots of her daily life, her smiling face captured in moments of happiness.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as she took in the disturbing display. She looked at the shrine in irritation. “What is this?” Emily asked, her voice hostile and nearly speechless. Her mind was racing with fear and confusion as she calculated the danger standing behind her.

Tony’s demeanor shifted dramatically. His face now turned dark. He locked the door behind them with a decisive click. His eyes locked onto Emily with a ferocious intensity. “You don’t think I don’t know what you did, do you?” Tony’s voice was a low and dangerous growl.

Emily’s pulse quickened, her mind struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. “Tony, what are you talking about?”

Tony’s answering smile was one of pure rage. “I was the one watching Sophie. I was the one who loved her and tried to protect her. And you—” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You took her away from me and thought I would allow you to get away with it?”

Emily had thought her plan was flawless. That there were no traces of her involvement. Yet here was Tony, revealing his twisted obsession. The realization that Tony had been stalking Sophie all along, that he had been a constant presence in her life was bitterly ironic to her.

“You’re insane!” Emily shouted, her voice trembling with indignation. “I didn’t even know you!”

Tony’s cruel smile widened. “Insane? Maybe. But I know exactly what you did. I saw everything in gruesome detail. I couldn’t save her in time. The police were too quick but you underestimated me. You took Sophie from me, and now I’m here to take you from this world.”

Tony’s accusations were relentless. He sprang at her with the knife. His movements precise and deadly. Emily’s survival instincts kicked in and she grabbed a metal rod, swinging wildly in an attempt to fend him off; however, she wasn’t quick enough. The knife found its mark: the pain sharp and immediate. She fell to the ground writhing in pain as the blood began to drain from her body in a messy pool of red liquid.

Tony stood over her for a long moment. The anger he felt now melted to nothing. His expression was one of grim satisfaction. The shrine to Sophie, the photographs, and the mementos were his way of preserving her memory. A macabre tribute to his obsession. Now, with Emily’s life extinguished, he felt a twisted sense of closure. The cycle of violence and obsession had reached its bitter end.

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© Samantha Sebesta, Samantha James, and The Chronicles of History: Reading Into Our Past, 2024. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Samantha Sebesta with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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