Black Rose

Chapter 1:

I breathe in the stillness of the dead hour. My hand fumbles through my side table to grab my mobile phone. I sat slowly on the bed, sleepy demons still lingering in my head. I stretch lazily; its 12:07 when suddenly, the power goes out. I turn on the torch of my phone, and a sharp tinnitus rings in my ears.

There are nights I spend at this hour illustrating web novels with a late-night playlist humming in the background, but tonight—tonight feels different.

“Perhaps...” I think, “I need some fresh air...” I shuffle over to my lone window, drawing the ghostly white curtains aside, and open it quietly. The cool air brushes against my cheeks, contrasting with the heat of my stuffy room. The clouds spill over the moon which shone over me gloomily.

A wave of inexplicable emotion washes over me. A never-ending stroke of sadness grasps my heart, thumping loudly in the little space it occupies. But we all experience such phases sometimes in our lives; that’s... human nature.

I was born with the powers of a necromancer, I could see and talk with them and it was pretty much useless. There is one ghost in my room – Olivia, but she is not here right now.

I lean low, resting my chin on my hands, I feel the cold window sill on my skin. I gaze at the busy highway bustling with cars even at this hour, it strikes me as beautiful, serene, and peaceful—until I catch sight of a garbage bag tumbling downwards; the window of the upper apartment closing softly.

I back away from the window suddenly, my heart racing as I stare wide-eyed, utterly freaked out. Was this guy really tossing trash out in the dead of night? Who does that? The guy living in that apartment has always struck me as a total mess, a womanizer apparently. Maybe his mother was visiting tomorrow, pushing him to resort for a last minute cleaning strategy? I chuckled at the absurd thought and wondered how stupid I can be.

I close the window with a loud thud, retreating to my bed. Sweat drips from my forehead, and I sigh, trying to shake off the unease due to the outage. I reach for my earbuds, scrolling through my playlist. I own a proud collection of around 300 songs, and flaunt it likewise.

As I scroll, a sudden knock at my door jolts me upright—someone is knocking in the middle of the night. The sound echoes through my empty apartment, continuous and insistent. I flinch for a moment and freeze in place, my mind going blank.

I live on the 14th floor, the second-to-last in a building that is hardly occupied. The thought sends a chill down my spine. Who would be knocking on my door at this hour? The knocking grows louder, more aggressive, and a shiver runs through me.

Deciding to stay quiet, I slip nimbly into the kitchen, my breath harsh and ragged, betraying me with every exhale. I grab the kitchen knife; it almost slips through my sweaty palm. I am not sure whether to call the police or not. What if he is the guy from the upper floor? No—I am in hysterics, walking back and forth in my little room, not knowing where to go. I chuckle at the thought that perhaps the demons under my bed are looking at me confused, like, what the hell is going on?

Suddenly, my phone buzzes. It’s Adriel.

Adriel: Lovisa, you still awake?

Me: There's a freak outside my door and they won't stop knocking.

Adriel: What? Are you okay?

Me: You think?

Adriel: To think you can’t deal with some pests...

Me: More like I don’t wanna die!

Adriel: Don’t worry, I’ll help you out. Just wear that tracking watch that I gave you.

I step out of my bedroom and stand in front of the door, holding my breath. The knocking has stopped, but my heart is still pounding, the silence thick and oppressive. I dash back into my room, crouching by my side table to retrieve my watch—simple on the outside, but with a hidden location tracker. Adriel’s gift.

Why hadn’t I used it earlier? My mind is spinning too fast to think straight. My hands tremble as I strap it on, taking deep breaths to steady myself.

Adriel is coming with the cops. That should make me feel safe, but my gut is telling me something is wrong. Something worse.

I turn around and freeze, the breath leaving my body.

A tall figure stands in the corner of my room, draped in a ghostly white hooded cloak. He blends into the curtains, motionless, his face shrouded in shadow.

My pulse hammers as I clutch the knife tighter.

“A knife...” he scoffs softly, his voice cold. “That won’t help you.”

My eyes dart toward him, catching a glint of a twisted grin beneath the hood. My limbs shake as I stagger back, the knife handle digging into my sweaty palm.

I force out a shaky breath. “Why don’t you just kill me and leave me alone?” My voice trembles, but the words spill out before I can stop them.

He tilts his head slightly, his grin widening. “I can’t.” He shrugs casually, his voice low. “I’m not paid to kill you.”