Insight of a Kenyan Girl

Unsettled. There was no other explanation for how Tilly felt. Ever since signing Nathaniel Pierce, she had thrown herself back into work, trying to shake off the unease that clung to her like a shadow. But the memory of the strange lady lingered in her mind, creeping in at odd moments and making her heart race. She wasn’t easily rattled, but something about that encounter had unsettled her deeply.

She tried to go about her days as usual, but an unshakable feeling of being watched haunted her. It started subtly—an inexplicable prickle at the nape of her neck, a whisper of movement in her peripheral vision that vanished when she turned. On her way to work, the sensation intensified. The street was never empty, yet she felt as though someone unseen was tracking her every step. Each time she glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing but strangers rushing to their destinations, oblivious to her growing paranoia.

Should she go to the police? And say what? That she felt like she was being watched? They’d dismiss her concerns as paranoia, or worse, suggest she was imagining things. No, she needed more proof before she made a fool of herself.

Evenings were better—at least for a while. The moment she stepped into her home, she felt safe. The sturdy walls, the familiar scent of lavender from her diffuser, the soft hum of her refrigerator—it all grounded her. But that fragile sense of security shattered the night she found the flowers.

A bouquet of dark red roses sat neatly on her porch, their petals almost black in the dim light. A small envelope was nestled among them. A chill slithered down her spine as she hesitantly reached for the card.

Whispers of the unknown rest within these petals… dare to listen?

Her breath caught. The words sent a shiver through her. Her fingers trembled as she scanned the street, searching for the sender, but the road was empty. The silence of the night pressed down on her.

Was this a coincidence? A prank? Or something far more sinister?

Heart pounding, she took the flowers inside, her mind racing with questions. Who had left them? How did they know where she lived? And why did this feel so deeply connected to Mystique, the club where secrets lurked in every shadow?

Tilly placed the bouquet on her kitchen counter and stepped back, staring at it like it might come alive. She wanted to ignore it, to toss it in the trash and pretend none of this was happening—but she couldn’t. Something compelled her to reach for the flowers, to brush her fingers over their velvety petals.

And then she saw it.

Tucked beneath the blooms was another note, smaller this time, folded with precision. Slowly, she unfolded it, her pulse hammering in her ears.

I see you.

Her breath hitched. The simplicity of the message sent ice through her veins.

A loud thud outside made her jump. She rushed to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peer out. The street remained empty. The eerie glow of the streetlights flickered slightly, casting long shadows. No movement, no footsteps—nothing.

But she knew she wasn’t alone.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she backed away from the window. The paranoia she had been trying to suppress was no longer paranoia. Someone was out there. Someone was watching her.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone. She hesitated. The police? A friend? Who would believe her? Before she could decide, another sound reached her ears—a slow, deliberate knock on her front door.

Tilly froze.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know who was on the other side.

Seconds ticked by. The knock came again, harder this time. She swallowed, her throat dry, forcing herself to move toward the door. She peered through the peephole.

Nothing.

Her porch was empty.

A cold wave of fear gripped her. No retreating footsteps, no car engine, no sign of movement. Whoever had knocked had vanished—just like the unseen eyes that followed her during the day.

Slowly, she stepped back, her fingers gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She needed to do something, but what? Call someone? Pack a bag and leave? But where would she go?

Then, her phone vibrated in her hand. A message from an unknown number.

Why won’t you open the door, Tilly?