When I make my way around to the front of the house, I first stop to admire how beautiful the new black porch looks. The exterior has been refreshened—still all black, but with brand new siding and fresh paint. I kept the vines and cleaned the gargoyles, and though the stone is chipped and weathered, it only adds character to the haunting manor. Seems my taste isn’t any more rainbows and sunshine than my predecessors. Then my eyes jump to the bouquet of red flowers perched against the door. It looks like they were placed there by one of the crew members—assuming they didn’t want to enter my house without my permission. My eyes skirt the property. The sun’s rays are nearly gone, and I can't see a damn thing five feet past the tree line. If someone is beyond that point, they could be watching me, and I would be none the wiser. Feeling a tad more urgent, I scoop up the roses, rush inside, slam the door, and lock it. Nestled neatly in the bouquet is a single black card. From my view, I can see some type of gold calligraphy scrawled across it. My eyes widen, wary of the note. It’ll be the first real communication I’ve gotten from the stalker. Part of me has been waiting anxiously for it, hoping they’ll tell me what they want from me. And now that it’s here, I want to tear it to pieces and live in blissful ignorance. Screw it, Pll probably die from regret and curiosity if I don’t read it. Plucking the card out with shaking hands, I open it and read: I'll be seeing you soon, little mouse. Okay, I could’ ve lived without seeing this. I mean, /ittle mouse? This is obviously a man stalking me, and he must be cracked in the fucking head. Clearly, he 1s. Disgusted, I slide my phone from my back pocket and call the police. I really don't want to deal with them tonight, but I need to report this. I’m not naive enough to think they’ll save me from the shadow that’s attached itself to me, but I'll be damned if I become some unsolved mystery if I die.