My haven was the rooftop pool. At the end of a long day of school and constant deadlines, nothing was more wonderful than a late-night swim under the stars. The water was refreshing. The city lights sparkled in the distance. And for once, I had the pool to myself. Or so I believed.
I wet my toes in the water, basking in the silence. The lights on the pool gave a gentle, soothing glow, and the distant hum of the city below seemed a million miles away. I plunged in, the water closing over me like a second skin. For a few minutes, I swam laps. The beat of my strokes was drowning out the tension of the day.
That was when I heard it—a faint splash.
I stopped mid-stroke, treading water as I scanned my surroundings. The pool deck was empty, with the chairs neatly stacked and the umbrellas closed. I told myself it was probably just my imagination. I shook it off and kept swimming. But then I saw them. Wet footprints were leading away from the pool.
My stomach dropped.
I was supposed to be alone up here. I had made sure of it. I climbed out of the water, wrapping myself tightly in a towel and scanned the dimly lit deck. There was nothing. There was no one. That was when I noticed that my phone was gone.
I spun around, with my heart pounding hard in my chest. My breathing quickened as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Then I saw him—a man standing near the pool’s mechanical room, half-hidden in the shadows. He was standing there, watching me.
“Hey!” I shouted, my voice shaking. “What the hell are you doing, creep?”
He did not say a word. Instead, he walked slowly to the other end of the pool and dove in, disappearing beneath the surface. I did not wait to see if he would come back up. I grabbed my stuff and bolted for the exit gate, my bare feet slapping against the wet tiles.
When I reached the gate, I grabbed the handle and yanked it hard.
It was locked.
I froze, panic flooding my chest. I was certain I had left it open. Before I could process what was happening, something yanked my towel from behind, sending me sprawling forward into the water.
I hit the surface hard, a rush of cold water filling my nose.
I kicked frantically, trying to reach the surface, but hands grabbed my ankles, pulling me down. I thrashed wildly, my heart pounding in my ears. My lungs burned as I fought to break free. A figure clamped a hand over my mouth, holding me underwater.
I elbowed them as hard as I could, and their grip loosened just enough for me to break the surface. I scrambled onto the pool deck, gasping for air. I coughed violently, water pouring from my mouth, but I could not stop.
The figure was already out of the water, stalking toward me.
The chase was a blur. I slipped and slid across the wet tiles, barely avoiding his lunges. My mind raced as I searched for a weapon—anything I could use. I grabbed a pool pole and swung it with all my strength, clipping his shoulder.
He stumbled but recovered quickly, smashing through a glass divider in an attempt to cut me off. I sprinted across the perimeter of the pool, my breath ragged, my heart pounding. The wet tiles made every step treacherous. I slipped again, crashing hard against a row of deck chairs.
Pain shot through my knee, but I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline pushing me forward.
He was relentless. I could hear his footsteps slapping against the wet ground, getting closer with every second. I hurled a chair in his path, buying myself a few seconds as he stumbled over it.
My vision blurred from the panic and the tears welling in my eyes, but I kept moving.
The service door was my only way out.
I limped toward it, my heart pounding in my chest, and managed to yank it open. I did not look back—I just ran.
The cops came, of course.
They scanned the pool area with flashlights, searching every corner, but they found nothing. All they found was a pair of rubber gloves and a roll of duct tape submerged underwater. Whoever this guy was, he had planned this. He had been waiting for me.
I sat on the edge of the ambulance, shivering under a blanket as an EMT checked my arm. My hands were still shaking.
I tried to answer the officer’s questions, but my mind kept drifting back to his face—or the lack of it. His features had been obscured by the shadows, but those eyes were something I would never forget.
I’m glad I made it out alive.
I know how lucky I am.
But every time I close my eyes, I see his shadowy figure stalking toward me.
I see the way he moved, with calm precision, like he had done this before.
I wonder if he’s still out there, waiting for another chance.
I don’t go to the rooftop pool anymore.
I can barely walk past the building without feeling a knot of fear in my chest.
I keep my doors locked and double-check my windows every night.
But even with all of that, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s watching me, somewhere out there.
He’s waiting.
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