Jax flipped on the lights. He staggered backwards in horror as he saw the crimson fluid pooling on the floor. The heavy rich smell of iron nauseated him as clutched his hand to his face. White feathers stained with red were scattered all over the kitchen floor. Blood was smeared all over the refrigerator and the cabinets.

As Jax backed away from the horrifying scene, he noticed something was painted on the refrigerator.

It’s you.

Those words were scrawled several times as well in blood as the shape of a triangle.

What the fuck?

It was Sarah. It had to be! But this was beyond any ‘stalker’ game she was supposed to be playing. This was…

Disturbed.

The same title as his current work in progress.

Throwing aside his concerns, he dashed to his office and sat down at his desk frantically typing on his laptop. His fingers pounded the keyboard as he furiously typed out several chapters.

Hours later, his fingers cramping, Jax stood up. His writing had been so intense it was as if he’d been in a trance. He could barely make out the words on the screen as his mind swam with thoughts. Then he remembered the hideous mess in the kitchen.

Sarah.

Perhaps this was part of Jessica’s plan. It had certainly inspired him to write. Maybe this was why world renowned authors touted her as the ‘best of the best’.

Walking back down the stairs, Jax turned the light on in the kitchen. The blood was still there lying in a congealed pool, the bloodied feathers wilted and sticky. Maybe the blood wasn’t even real just part of a staged act by Sarah and Jessica.

He reached a tentative finger out to swipe across the blood on the floor. It was cold and sticky. Gingerly, he held it to his nose. Horrified, he drew back sharply realizing it was real. Maybe this wasn’t the plan.

Turning on the faucet, he pumped soap into his hands and washed them thoroughly. He panicked thinking of how he would clean up this mess. Should he call the police? How had Sarah gotten inside anyway?

But Jessica had specifically said not to call the police. He wondered if he should call his cleaning service instead.

No, better to clean it himself, but not before taking several pictures of the scene with his phone.

As Jax sat about cleaning up the disgusting mess, he stared at the image and the words painted on his refrigerator.

It’s you.

His finger traced over the dried blood trying to imagine what Sarah may have meant by those words.

Jax raced through the house securing every door and window. He found a small pane of the French doors shattered on the back patio. The door had been unlocked. He quickly placed a piece of cardboard over the shattered pane and called Jessica.

“This is Jessica.”

“Jessica, it’s Jax. I think Sarah’s really gone crazy! I came home from Vegas tonight to find this mess in my kitchen.”

“What mess?” Jessica’s smooth voice remained unperturbed.

“Here, I’ll send you the pictures.”

A few moments later, Jessica gasped.

“Wow, you think Sarah did this?”

“Who else would?” Jax sighed glancing at his hands which had a rim of dark, dried blood underneath his fingernails. He needed to wash them again.

Jax was jolted by a peal of laughter.

“This is fantastic, Jax! Priceless. Oh, the media will love this! Did you send me all the pictures? I’m going to get these up on social media as soon as I get off the phone with you. This is marketing gold!”

“What?” Jax was confused. So was this part of her plan all along?

“I told you Sarah Bender was the best. She’s a terrific actress worth every penny!”

“So this was part of the plan?” Jax didn’t know if he should be relieved or annoyed.

“Well, I admit this is going to the extreme, but this will make you the talk of the writing world especially given the theme of your current work in progress. How’s the writing coming by the way?”

“Actually, it’s going very well. As soon as I saw the mess when I got home, I ran to my laptop. I wrote for hours.” He confessed.

“See now my plan worked just like I told you it would! Now your words will seem genuine to readers because you have actually experienced the terror of stalking.” Jax could hear her smiling over the phone. Kristi had been right. Jessica was the best.

“Maybe you’re right,” he whispered his thoughts still lingering over the sticky, congealed blood on the floor.

“I wonder what she used. Food coloring and corn syrup?” Jessica laughed.

“It was real, Jessica. I swear it looked like she’d sacrificed a chicken in there.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips.

“Real? Seriously? How do you know?”

“I smelled it, Jessica. It was real.”

She was quiet a moment.

“That’s odd. I would’ve thought she’d use fake blood. Still, maybe she got some from a local butcher shop. That’s better makes it even more authentic.”

Although Jax had his doubts, he agreed.

“The feathers were a particularly nice touch. I’ll have to compliment her on that whenever I see her again. If I see her, that is.”

“What do you mean? I thought she worked in the building with you.”

“She does, but I haven’t been able to catch up with her for over a month. I’ve been communicating with her via email. I assumed she was just busy stalking you. I’m sure she’ll be back in the office soon. I left her a voicemail a few days ago to see me whenever she was here.”

Something unsettled Jax. That was strange. How could she not be in the office for more than a month? Jessica wasn’t her direct supervisor, so wouldn’t she have other work to do besides stalk him?

“Jax, just relax. Sarah is a wonderful actress. This is all just a game. Don’t let it unnerve you.”

“There’s also the fact she shattered a glass pane in my French door, Jessica. What should I---“

“---don’t worry. I’ll call someone to come fix it immediately. But it’s working, Jax. Don’t you feel terrified?”

Yes, he certainly did.

“You could say that.”

“Then I’m doing my job. She’s doing her job. You’re writing again, aren’t you? See, everything is coming together. The readers will swoon over this! You will sell tens of thousands of books in week one alone! New York Times here we come!”

Jax loved the passionate way she spoke, but there was a nagging feeling tugging inside him.

What if this wasn’t just an act?

What if it was real?