The Watcher in the Closet

I stared at my phone screen like a rat rotting in a gutter, my eyes glued to the live feed.

I greedily swallowed every inch, peeping into every hidden corner of that gorgeous woman's apartment. She brought her device into my repair shop earlier tonight.

It took me less than a minute to secretly bury spyware deep in her system. Now I had a frontrow seat. I watched her order takeout.

I watched her doublecheck the heavy deadbolts on her front door. I was holding my breath, waiting for her to strip down for a shower. My pulse hammered in my ears.

I gripped the edges of my phone, my brain already filling with sick, thrilling fantasies of the show I was about to get. Then the feed froze. The screen cut to black.

A strange, distorted reflection flashed across the dark glass. Someone was standing directly behind me. Holding a raised knife.

Chapter 1 She walked into my repair shop around 7:00 PM. Her screen was shattered to hell, needing a full replacement. It took me about an hour to swap it out.

Burying the spyware deep in her system while she wasn't looking? That barely took a minute. I even made sure to hide the icon from her home screen.

After I finished, she paid up, tossed me a polite thank you, and walked out. The second the front door clicked shut behind her, I yanked my own phone out of my pocket.

My thumb slammed the terminal app. Instantly, a crystalclear mirror of her screen popped up. The time read 8:02 PM. I watched her pull up Uber.

The pickup location pinned right outside my shop. The destination? Maplewood Apartments. I glanced up, looking through the storefront window.

There she was, standing on the curb, waiting for her ride. Her silhouette was stunning, all long legs and tight waist.

The night breeze caught the edge of her skirt, flipping it up just a fraction.

The streetlights washed over the delicate curve of her bare shoulders, making them glow white in the dark. I rubbed my thumb over my screen, a slow grin stretching across my face.

Maplewood Apartments. I knew that complex like the back of my hand. Barely a tenminute drive from here, meaning we were going to have a lot of fun.

A gorgeous thing like her, living all alone. God only knows what kind of dirty little secrets she was hiding on this device. 8:04 PM. She swiped out of Uber and opened iMessage.

She tapped the pinned chat at the very top. She had the contact saved as Callum, complete with a sickeningly fake little red heart emoji right next to it.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard: [My phone was totally busted.

Just got it fixed.] The message went through, and the guy replied almost instantly: [I was wondering why you ghosted me.] [Thought something bad happened to you!] She sent back a cute, clingy little hugging GIF.

Then she typed: [Heading home now. Waiting for my Uber. Are you off work yet?] Callum's text popped up a second later: [Still stuck at the office.

Might be late heading over to your place.] [Stay safe on the way back. Text me when you get inside.] She typed a quick [Okay], then swiped out of the chat.

The Uber app flared back onto the screen. The banner at the top read: [0.8 miles away. Arriving in 5 minutes.] I clicked my tongue, a sour taste coating the back of my throat.

Callum. Definitely a guy, so she wasn't single. Total buzzkill. But whatever, it didn't sound like they lived together anyway.

Plus, spying on a couple's chat history was a goldmine. I was practically guaranteed to catch some dirty talk or a few private photos soon enough. 8:05 PM.

Waiting for the ride must have been boring. She opened up a lifestyle app. The algorithm pushed a video onto her feed titled Practical SelfDefense for Women Living Alone.

She clicked on it and watched a clip showing exactly how to gouge an attacker's eye out with a house key.

She watched it with absolute focus, even rewinding the stabbing motion twice before finally scrolling past it. Next up was a post titled Safety Guide for Solo Females.

It listed a bunch of tricks to prevent breakins and shake off stalkers. She didn't even hesitate, just smashed the save button.

She opened the comment section and started typing: [Saved. You really can't be too careful living alone!] But her thumb hovered over the send button.

She backspaced the entire sentence, erasing it. She just dropped a simple thumbs up emoji instead. Chapter 2 I stared at the screen, a harsh laugh scraping the back of my throat.

The way she deleted that comment… she was terrified of letting anyone online know she lived alone. She was trying to erase her digital footprint.

But that little hesitation told me everything I needed to know. She was flying solo, and her guard was way up.

Clearly, she wasn't the helpless, obedient little lamb she looked like on the outside. 8:09 PM. The Uber app snapped back onto the screen. An incoming call overrode the display.

The driver's masked number flashed. Thirty seconds later, the call dropped. The screen instantly went black. She’d hit the lock button.

I jerked my chin up, looking out the glass storefront. A dark sedan rolled to a stop by the curb.

She climbed into the back, pulled the door shut, and the car merged into the night traffic, swallowed by the darkness at the end of the block.

I kept my eyes glued to my blackedout terminal screen. A hot rush of adrenaline spiked through my veins. The real show was just starting.

Once she got home and let her guard down, that's when the screen would get really interesting. 8:10 PM. Her screen lit up again. Straight back to iMessage.

She fired off a text to Callum: [In the Uber.] She turned on her live GPS location sharing, sending the direct tracking link straight to Callum.

A blinking blue dot pulsed on the screen, tracking her exact movement down the highway. Next, the screen swapped to DoorDash. She pulled up her favorites list.

She scrolled past a few spicy takeout joints she’d ordered from before, paused for a few seconds, then backed out.

She typed "light salad" into the search bar and filtered by zero delivery fee.

She clicked the one with the highest ratings and added a grilled chicken garden salad and two unsweetened iced teas to her cart.

Delivery address: Maplewood Apartments, Building 4, Apt 604. In the driver instructions box, she typed: [Dressing on the side, two sets of silverware.

Just leave it at the door, no need to knock. Thanks.] Payment went through. She snapped a screenshot of the order and sent it to Callum: [Eating light tonight.

You coming over after work?] Callum fired back a cryingface emoji almost instantly: [Ugh, got slammed with a lastminute report. Gonna be stuck here until 10.

Eat without me when it gets there.] I glanced up at the clock on my shop wall. Then I let her address roll through my mind again. Maplewood Apartments. Building 4, Apt 604.

A dark thrill coiled in my gut. Two sets of silverware? So Callum really was heading over tonight. Good.

Once those two were locked in that apartment together, the camera was bound to catch something a hell of a lot more entertaining. I dragged my tongue over my dry lips.

The hunger in my stomach was twisting tighter. 8:30 PM. The screen flared back to life.

A push notification from Uber popped up: [Arriving at destination] The ride summary showed the dropoff at the South Gate of Maplewood Apartments. Total charge: $12.80.

She opened Apple Pay and punched in her passcode: 925741. The payment processed, and the screen went dead again. I repeated those six digits under my breath. Twice.

I carved them right into my brain. That was a solid piece of leverage. It was definitely going to come in handy later.

I grabbed my glass of water from the desk and let my thumb drag slow circles around the rim. I shut my eyes.

I pictured her walking through the complex gates, stepping into her dimly lit hallway. Soft, quiet footsteps, her skin still carrying the chill of the night air. Chapter 3 8:33 PM.

The screen lit up again. She opened iMessage. She fired off a text to Callum. [I'm home.] Callum replied instantly. [Great, getting off work soon. Remember to deadbolt the door.

Don't open it for anyone.] She sent back a salute emoji. She tapped into her health monitoring app.

Her eyes must have swept coldly over the screen displaying today's stats: 8,627 steps taken, 800 calories burned.

Then she immediately swiped up, hardclosing the app in the background. My jaw tightened. Deadbolt the door? Callum was playing the protective boyfriend a little too well.

I unconsciously slowed my breathing, tapping my finger against the edge of my phone case. My eyes lingered on that number on the screen. 8,627 steps?

She sure covered a lot of ground today. Where the hell did she go? Hiking? 8:36 PM. She opened X. The number one trending topic was some Alist celebrity getting canceled.

She scrolled through the thread for a bit before dropping a comment. [Hollywood is a total dumpster fire.] Then she backed out and switched to Spotify.

She hit shuffle on a Late Night Healing playlist.

The lyrics synced on the screen. [The night breeze brushes the windowsill, whose goodnight are you waiting for…] She bumped up the volume and swiped back to her home screen.

She swiped past a few pages and opened Zillow. She scrolled through rental listings right around the Maplewood Apartments area.

She checked the details on two properties, then exited the app. My thumb stopped tapping. Zillow? Didn't she already live at Maplewood? Was she planning to move?

I narrowed my eyes, but the sick, electric thrill of watching her every move quickly swallowed the confusion. Who cares.

The more secrets she buried, the better the show was going to be. 8:40 PM. She opened the Amazon app.

The recent search history at the top of the screen was still there. [silent slippers] [door draft stoppers] [motion sensor night lights] She tapped her cart.

Inside sat a few baggy, dark hoodies and a pair of thicksoled silent slippers. She didn't even bother checking the reviews.

She just selected a pitchblack set with guaranteed nextday delivery and hit buy. The shipping address was set to Maplewood Apartments, Building 4.

She screenshotted the order confirmation and sent it to Callum. [Got you a set too. Keep you warm this winter.] Callum replied with a heart emoji. [You're the best, babe.

Once this crazy project is done, I'll make more time for us.] Things were getting interesting. I mentally replayed her Amazon search history.

Silent slippers, door draft stoppers, motion sensor night lights… That was par for the course for a girl living alone trying to beef up her sense of security, right?

And buying hoodies for Callum? Playing the sweet, totally smitten girlfriend. I scoffed, that sour taste crawling back up the back of my throat.

My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles turned white. 8:43 PM. A banner dropped down on her screen. DoorDash delivery confirmation.

She instantly unlocked the device and pulled up her Ring doorbell camera feed. The live video of her front hallway booted up. The dim corridor was empty.

Only a brown paper bag hung off her front doorknob. The paint on the hallway walls was peeling, and the cheap motionsensor light flickered overhead.

It practically radiated that damp, creeping chill you only find in rundown apartment blocks. Chapter 4 She pinched the screen, zooming in on the surveillance feed.

Dragging it frame by frame. She didn't miss a single shadow in the corner of the dim hallway. She stared at it for three solid minutes before finally closing the app.

The screen faded to black. My chest tightened. She wouldn't even open the front door to grab her takeout? And she installed a live feed camera right outside her unit?

Her guard was up way too high. All this calculated caution… it made my own impulsive moves feel reckless. 8:45 PM. Her screen lit up again.

She unlocked the phone and tapped the camera app. She aimed the lens at her takeout on the table, snapping a perfectly aesthetic food pic.

Then, she flipped to the frontfacing camera. The background swayed before settling, revealing her soft, delicate features.

She tilted her head slightly, leaning close to the food, adjusting the angle with a warm smile. Right then, a detail snagged my eye.

On the camera interface, the smart facial tracking system suddenly popped up two focus boxes. One locked onto her face.

The other, however, was deadlocked on the empty shadow of the couch right behind her—it was even swaying slightly, keeping rhythm with the shadow's breathing.

My breath caught in my throat. I instinctively leaned closer to the screen, squinting to get a better look, but she was already smiling and hitting the shutter.

She sent the photo straight to Callum. [About to dig in. Too bad you're missing out.] Callum took a moment to reply. [Just finished up my tasks.

Looks amazing, I'm starving over here.] I stared dead at that selfie in their chat, pinching the screen to zoom in, checking it over and over. It was just her and the takeout.

The background was spotless, not a single thing out of place. I exhaled a heavy breath, the tension bleeding out of my shoulders.

But that second focus box… it lingered like an ice pick buried in my brain. At least it was just a glitch. A false alarm. Soon, she switched over to TikTok.

The algorithm fed her cute pet videos. She swiped past a few, paused on a cat tearing up a living room for thirty seconds, and kept scrolling.

When a video about selfdefense tactics for solo women popped up, she favorited it, took a screenshot, and sent it to Callum. [This is useful, you should watch it too.] Callum shot back almost instantly: [Got it, saved.] 9:10 PM.

She opened a streaming app. She clicked on a true crime documentary about a serial killer dismembering his prey. The progress bar crawled forward.

She paused the video every now and then, screenshotting the most gruesome, intense scenes and sending them to Callum. [This part is insane!] Callum didn't reply right away.

The typing bubble flashed a few times above the chat, then vanished into thin air. Watching the graphic footage from that documentary, my jaw tightened.

A serial killer carving up bodies? I remember being traumatized by stuff like that as a kid, too scared to even go to the bathroom alone in the dark.

I never expected a girl like her to casually watch something so brutal while eating dinner. She really was built different.

Definitely not the harmless, obedient little lamb she pretended to be. 9:25 PM. The true crime documentary was still running.

She suddenly hit pause, swiped back to her home screen, and booted up the Ring doorbell camera again. The feed showed the exact same dim, empty hallway.

The motionsensor light was dead. Deserted. Chapter 5 I stared at the screen, a cold prickle of annoyance washing over me. Her paranoia was off the fucking charts.

In less than an hour, she had checked that camera feed multiple times. Even for a chick living alone trying to play it safe, this level of neurotic obsession was borderline insane.

Picking her as my prey was turning out to be a hell of a challenge. 9:28 PM. She opened her Notes app. She started a new, blank note.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she began typing, letter by letter: [Today's Steps: 8,627.] [Route: Maplewood Apartments… Eastside State Park… Northside Scrapyard… Industrial Row… Maplewood Apartments… Phone Repair Shop… Maplewood Apartments.] [Retrieved Items: One heavyduty hunting knife.

One metal baseball bat. Two large rolls of heavyduty industrial clear plastic sheeting. Two large jugs of sodium hypochlorite bleach.

Three pairs of thick medicalgrade rubber gloves. One pack of highabsorbency pads. One folding tactical shovel. Several large bags of activated charcoal.

One bottle of Luminol blood reagent…] Right there, she suddenly backspaced, deleting the last sentence.

She started a new line: [Nighttime Audio Log:] [9:01 PM: Rustling sound from under the couch.] [9:17 PM: Dripping sound in the bathroom.] [9:20 PM: Creaking from the entryway closet.] [9:25 PM: Footsteps outside the door.] [Action Taken: Deadbolt locked, security chain engaged, continuous loop recording on doorbell camera.] Staring at those words, the muscles in my back locked up.

A freezing sweat broke out across my shoulder blades. Eastside State Park, the Northside Scrapyard, Industrial Row—those were deserted, chaotic dumping grounds.

The shit she was gathering from those places wasn't what a normal girl living alone picked up. And those noises. The rustling under the couch. The creaking from the closet.

A horrifying thought ripped through my brain. Did she… did she know someone was inside