Framed for Saving Her Life

4: 4

Prying at her door?

My finger stopped on the screen. In the video, the sound of metal scraping the lock cylinder came through sharp and cold.

Creak — click!

One after another, the noise crawled under my skin.

The residents' group chat had already spat out over a hundred messages. The newest three were all voice notes, all tagging me.

"Everyone, come see for yourselves! It's him! He's holding a grudge because I exposed his little act yesterday, so today he sent someone to pry my door open for revenge!"

"I knew it, a sicko like you is petty to the bone! Play the quiet innocent all day, then pull something rotten behind everyone's back!"

"If anything happens to me, it's all your fault!"

Underneath, the pile-on scrolled fast, every name a familiar one.

"I said all along he wasn't a good person. Called out and now he's lashing out, terrifying!"

"So the dark figure was him this whole time. Gotten addicted to writing his own little drama, huh?!"

"No wonder his mom's laid up in the hospital. Rot at the top, rot at the bottom. Not one decent person in that family!"

I stared at the screen. My chest went tight at first, and the longer I stared, the more I actually laughed out loud.

Laughed at how stupid they were, and laughed at myself for hesitating two whole seconds yesterday.

I didn't type a single word of pointless defense.

I just opened my location, and took a photo of the caregiver card at the head of the hospital bed, the room number on the wall, and the water kettle steaming beside my hand.

Location and photo, both dropped straight into the group.

The corner of the photo showed the time, clear as day: 22:17, less than two minutes off from when she'd posted her video.

"I'm at the hospital. Your family's mess, keep me out of it."

The group went dead silent in an instant.

The messages that had been flying a second ago jammed hard against the one where I posted the picture.

A full half minute, and nobody said a thing.

After a long while, the third-floor resident who'd cursed the loudest finally squeezed out a line: "This location... isn't that really City General Hospital?"

"The photo doesn't look shopped either. So then... the one prying at the door isn't him?!"

"There couldn't actually be a burglar, could there?! The dark figure he mentioned yesterday, was it real?!"

Nobody brought up the word "revenge" again. The few who'd been jumping the hardest didn't even dare toss out something to smooth it over.

The neighbor's next voice note came right after, her voice clearly shaking, but she forced the bluff anyway: "You, you're lying! What's with the act?! You definitely shopped that photo in advance just to scare me!"

The words had barely left her when a dull thud hit outside her door.

The whole door shuddered with it. She cut off mid-word, the phone nearly slipping out of her hand.

The prying at the lock didn't stop. It got heavier.

Blow after blow, each one turning her insides cold.

She crept up to the peephole. All she could make out was a blurry dark figure pressed against the door, shoulders jerking, a baseball cap pulled low.

A layer of cold sweat shot up her back in an instant.

That wasn't right.

That wasn't right!

If he really was at the hospital, then who was standing at her door?!

The next second, the neighbor in the video cried out.

"You... who the hell are you!"