Killer Geek (SLOW UPDATES)

Twenty-One

I turned to see him leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed, and an unreadable expression on his face.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“What did Randy want?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp, watching me closely.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “Just checking in.”

Billy nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. “He say anything…interesting?”

I hesitated, the memory of Randy’s warning flashing in my mind. “No. Just the usual Randy stuff. Movies, theories, that kind of thing.”

Billy’s lips twitched into a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Randy loves to play the expert, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a laugh. “He’s harmless, though.”

Billy pushed off the doorway, walking toward me. “Sure. But if he starts poking around too much…you’ll let me know, right?”

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten. I nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good.” He reached out, squeezing my shoulder before heading upstairs.

I stood there, frozen, the weight of his words settling over me. Randy’s warning, Billy’s question—they were connected, I was sure of it. But what was I supposed to do when my own brother was hiding something from me?

I glanced toward the door, my mind racing. Whatever was going on, I had to find out the truth. Before, it was too late.

The storm clouds had been rolling in for hours, the low rumble of thunder barely audible over the hum of the television. Rain hadn’t started yet, but the air was heavy with it. I curled up tighter on the couch, the book in my hand barely holding my attention. A classic horror flick played in the background—a comfort more than anything else.

The phone rang, shrill and abrupt, cutting through the quiet. I sighed, setting the book down and glancing toward the kitchen where the landline hung on the wall.

Another ring.

Pushing myself off the couch, I padded over, the uneasy feeling already starting to creep in. I’d gotten used to it these past few nights, the calls from a distorted voice that left my skin crawling. But it didn’t make it any easier.

I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

Silence at first, just enough to make my heart skip.

Then the voice came, smooth and distorted. “Hello, Yn.”

My stomach dropped. I gripped the phone tighter, glancing toward the windows, where the dim light of evening was quickly fading. “Who is this?” I demanded, my voice stronger than I felt.

“You know who this is,” the voice said, almost playful.

I swallowed hard, my eyes darting to the front door. It was locked—I’d made sure of it when Billy left for Stu’s.

“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

“To play a game.”

“No,” I snapped, my heart racing. “I’m not playing games with you.”

“Oh, but you are,” the voice countered, almost laughing. “You’ve already started. And here’s how it works: I ask you three questions. You get them all right, and I’ll leave. Get one wrong…”

I froze, my breath hitching. “What happens if I get one wrong?”

The voice was calm, casual. “I come in.”

I stumbled back a step, my mind racing. “Why are you doing this?”

The voice ignored me. “First question: Who was the killer in Halloween?”

I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “Michael Myers,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Correct,” the voice drawled, drawing out the word.

I exhaled shakily, backing into the living room. My eyes darted to the windows, the doors. I needed to lock everything.

“Second question,” the voice continued, a hint of excitement creeping in. “In Friday the 13th, who was the original killer?”

I moved to the back door, locking it with trembling hands. “Pamela Voorhees,” I said, my voice firmer now.

“Impressive,” the voice said. “You’re smarter than I thought.”

I didn’t respond, moving through the house to check the windows. The blinds were still open, and the thought of someone watching me from the dark sent a shiver down my spine. I yanked them shut, one by one.

“Last question,” the voice said, and I could hear the grin in his words. “This one’s a little harder. In A Nightmare on Elm Street, what is Nancy’s address?”

I froze, my mind blank. “What?”

The voice chuckled. “Come on, Yn. Don’t tell me you’re giving up now.”

I wracked my brain, the details of the movie flashing in my mind. “Uh…Elm Street,” I said, stalling.

The voice sighed. “Yes, but I need the house number. Tick tock.”

I clenched my jaw, panic clawing at me. “I don’t know!”

“Wrong answer.”

The line went dead, and the silence was deafening.

I dropped the phone, my breath coming in short gasps as I bolted to the front door. It was still locked, but I double-checked it anyway, my fingers fumbling over the deadbolt.

A loud bang came from the back of the house, and I jumped, spinning around.

“Who’s there?” I shouted, my voice shaking.

No answer, just the sound of the wind picking up outside. The first drops of rain began to splatter against the windows, the storm finally breaking.

I grabbed the nearest object—a lamp—and gripped it tightly, my heart pounding in my ears.

Another bang, this time from the side of the house.

I pressed myself against the wall, my mind racing. He couldn’t have gotten in. I’d locked everything. But the thought of him still being out there, watching, waiting…

“Why are you doing this?” I shouted, my voice cracking.

Silence. Then, faintly, the sound of laughter carried on the wind.

The storm raged outside, but the real terror was inside, clawing at me with every passing second.