Chapter 22: Strange eyes.
I, for one, didn't react. On the surface, I remained perfectly calm, continuing my path to the kitchen island as.
But inside, i constantly told myself to remain calm rather than to give in and engage with her.
My years behind the counter at Sunny Mart hadn't just taught me how to run a register, nor stock up on goods.
I'd dealt with drunk customers, irate coupon-clippers and even people having the worst day of their lives taking it out on the nearest minimum-wage earner.
I'd learned the hard way that arguing with an angry person was like pouring gasoline on a fire. The only way through was to give them space, to let the storm rage itself out against the silent, unmoving wall of lack of attention.
Only when the anger had burned down to embers, when the silence that followed wasn't charged but exhausted, was there a chance for a real conversation. With Ophelia, that fire looked like it had a lot of fuel left.
I reached the sleek, marble-topped island and opened the fridge. The cool air washed over my face. I took out the filtered water pitcher, the glass clinking softly, and poured myself a tall glass of ice-cold water. I drank it slowly, feeling the chill trace a clear, clean path down my throat, washing away the dry, anxious feeling left by the confrontation.
" This was more refreshing than I thought." I said to myself, eyeing the empty cup with satisfaction.
But as I set the empty glass in the sink, I felt a distinct, prickling sensation at the nape of my neck.
A feeling that was clearly that of someone being watched, Not a casual glance of someone in the same room, but a focused, intense scrutiny which made my skin crawl.
I turned around as if just taking in the view of the apartment.
But all I saw was Ophelia was still on the couch, her eyes facing towards the flat screen, she didn't look like she was engrossed in the film but at least I could tell from the look on her face that she had no intentions of looking at me.
'Strange…' I thought, a thread of unease weaving through my earlier resolve. 'She's not even looking this way.' I decided to brush it off as paranoia, the residual stress of the day manifesting.
' maybe getting some air will clear my head.' I thought to myself, believing that I needed to get out of this beautiful, tense cage.
Adjusting the brim of my black cap, I walked to the massive front door. My hand closed around the cool metal of the handle. I pulled it open, stepped over the threshold into the plush-carpeted hallway, and began to pull it shut behind me.
In the final few inches before the door closed, cutting off my view of the living room, I instinctively glanced back through the narrowing gap.
And I saw something.
Two points of light, glowing with an unearthly, faint scarlet hue, staring directly at me a few feet from the door.
They obviously weren't coming from the flat screen... Which meant that they were a pair of real glowing eyes staring directly at me through the gap of the door.
' This isn't the first time I've seen those eyes.' I thought to myself.
The sight was so startling that I jerked backward, my heart slamming against my ribs like a frightened bird.
The door, robbed of my guiding hand, swung shut with a soft but solid thud, severing the view.
I stood frozen in the silent, empty hallway, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Adrenaline buzzed in my veins. 'What the hell was that?'
After a count of three, driven by a morbid, terrified curiosity, I opened the door a little once more and leaned forward, pressing my eye to the thin space between the door and its frame, peering back into the apartment.
Nothing. The living room was as it had been. The TV's glow illuminated the empty couch. Ophelia was sitting like she'd always been.
No scarlet eyes. No eerie glow. Nothing in sight.
' You've gotta be kidding, is this supposed to be some kind of joke?'
I straightened up, my back against the cool wall of the hallway. My hands were trembling slightly. 'Maybe I'm still a bit… hungover from the emotional intensity with Noona?' The rationalization felt weak, even to me.
We'd only shared a latte, for goodness' sake. But what other explanation was there?
Stress-induced hallucinations? A trick of the light through the closing door, reflecting some LED from a gadget in the room?
Even if I knew we'd only had a cup of latte, I was beginning to contemplate on whether I was just drunk on exhaustion, I thought, pushing off from the wall.
The mission system was one thing since it was a bizarre, persistent software glitch in my perception. But glowing red eyes in a luxury apartment was a whole other category of terrifying.
Thinking I was just way in over my head, because of my constant interaction with the system and the earlier family drama.
' Thinking like this is basically a waste of time. I already planned on completing missions today, not talking about someone else's eyes...'
I shook my head sharply, as if to physically dislodge the disturbing image. I needed to focus on something concrete, something I could maybe control.
I headed for the elevators, the memory of those crimson pinpricks of light lingering at the edge of my vision like a retinal burn.
*****"
Across the city, in the gleaming lobby of the Pendleton, Marian Winston was having a very different kind of frustrating day.
She was dressed down in a cozy, light-blue hoodie and trendy bomber shorts, her long braids still as present as ever.
She held two heavy convenience store bags filled with snacks and sodas, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she chatted with the friendly front desk staffer
"And you're sure she didn't leave a note or anything?" Marian asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Her mother, was often working late, but she usually texted.