Good Little Pet

Don't turn left on Plum.

A single yellow sticky note clung to the porch, right outside Wren's door.

She furrowed her brows and glanced around. One neighbor mowed their lawn while another walked their dog. Neither paid her any mind.

Where did it come from?

Whatever. She needed to get to work and didn't have time to care.

She shoved the note into her coat pocket and went on her way.

She was already on thin ice with her manager Daniel. They were good friends, but Lex certainly pushed it. She couldn't be late again.

"Come on, come on." Wren hit her hands on her steering wheel. She would never make it. She was stopped at a red light, her small black car stuck behind a large semi-truck carrying steel beams.

Wren checked her surroundings before quickly pulling into the empty lane next to her. She would have to go another way.

With just a moment to spare, Wren pulled up to work and quickly rushed inside to clock in.

"Wren!"

Wren froze and turned to Daniel.

"I'm here right on time, don't get mad at me," Wren defended. Before she could say much more, she was pulled into a tight hug.

"Thank goodness, you're okay."

"Um," Wren mumbled against him, squirming to be free. When he finally let go, she just blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"There was an accident," Daniel said grimly. "Right where you usually drive. They said it was a small black car. I thought…"

Wren's heart rate quickened. "What happened?"

"A semi-truck carrying steel beams was making a turn. One of the straps snapped."

Daniel swallowed.

"A beam slid off the trailer and went straight through the windshield of the car behind it. The driver died instantly."

Wren’s stomach twisted.

"I was behind that truck…" Wren muttered.

"I'm happy you're okay, Wren," Daniel said, leaving Wren with her thoughts.

Wren got to her desk and shakily sat down, her hand reaching into her pocket. Her fingers met paper and she pulled out the yellow sticky note.

Don't turn left on Plum.

How had they known?

Who even were they?

If she hadn't gone straight, would she have been killed?

If she hadn't gone straight, would the other person still be alive?

Wren's heart raced as she looked down at the note on her porch the next morning. Another yellow sticky note. Her hands shook as she picked it up.

Don’t go to work today.

Something about the handwriting bothered her.

Wren weighed her options. If she went to work, would something horrific happen? If she didn’t go to work would something horrific happen? It was a gamble she really didn’t want to take, but there was no other choice.

Perhaps it was a selfish thing to do, a moment of self-preservation, but Wren decided she really didn’t want to find out what would happen at work, and she went back inside.

A while later, Wren’s phone pinged. She opened the text from Daniel.

He had sent a news article.

Wren followed the link and her breath caught as she read through it.

Oh god, what had she done?

The ceiling had caved in on the second floor where she typically worked.

Several people were injured.

Wren didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Once again, the note had saved her.

And once again, others got hurt because of it.

The third note was short and simple.

Stay home. Don’t answer Daniel.

Wren didn’t like the pattern forming. If she complied, she didn’t get hurt but someone else did. If she didn’t comply, she would get hurt.

She couldn’t let more people get hurt.

She drove to the office, her eyes darting back and forth for any threats.

Nothing.

She got to the building and was moved into a meeting room while the ceiling got repaired. She spent the whole day there and there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a normal workday.

Maybe the notes were just a weird prank. Maybe she was just overthinking them.

A scream sounded and Wren jumped up and ran towards it.

“Thank you! This is amazing.” Another coworker shrieked in glee at the birthday decorations on her desk. Wren sighed and walked back to the room, trying to calm her racing heart.

Wren watched her surroundings with precision the rest of the work day, on the drive home, all the way to her front door.

Still nothing.

Wren awoke on Saturday morning and opened the front door, unsure of what she would find. Nothing had happened the day before. Maybe it was over.

She blinked at the empty porch. No note.

Wren laughed nervously.

Perhaps it was just a weird, stupid prank. Just mere coincidences.

She walked back into her house and rubbed her eyes. She really needed coffee. She hadn’t been sleeping the past few days.

Wren grabbed the coffee pot, filled it with water, scooped the grounds, and waited.

She leaned her back against the counter and sighed.

Her eyes caught something and she froze like a deer in the headlight.

On her counter, lay a single yellow sticky note.

She lived alone.

Someone was there.

She slowly approached the note, nervous of what she would find.

You disobeyed.

That was it. No instructions. No warning. Sheer terror coursed through Wren. Whoever was leaving the notes wouldn’t stop and had been inside her home. Whoever they were, they were angry she disobeyed the day before.

Wren searched the house, baseball bat in hand. No more notes and no signs of entry through the windows or doors.

Wren called the cops and reported someone breaking into her house. When she explained the notes, they laughed it off and told her it was probably just some bored neighborhood kid.

She was alone.

Quit your job.

Wren felt so stuck. Who was doing this to her? She couldn’t breathe. Someone was watching her every move and they somehow knew everything that was going to happen.

She had no idea what to do. Several people had gotten hurt and she couldn’t handle any more. She was terrified to leave her house anymore.

Wren hesitantly pulled out her phone and texted Daniel.

I’m sorry. I quit.

She would have to beg for his forgiveness later.

She went back inside and quietly sat on the couch.

Days passed.

Every day was a new note.

Day six: don’t go out.

Day ten: Don’t answer any texts or calls.

Day twenty: Keep your hair in a ponytail.

Day thirty: Wear the red dress.

She was too afraid of what would happen if she didn’t comply, so she kept obeying every command.

Every thought, every action, every feeling no longer felt like her own. She belonged to the note writer. She was imprisoned by them.

Every time her mom or Daniel called or texted, she ignored it. She couldn’t let them get hurt.

She would keep being a good little pet if it meant those around her were safe.

Wren sat in silence on the couch, dressed in a short dress with her hair up. Her makeup was minimal and she wore simple strappy black heels.

She never went anywhere. The note writer just liked her dolled up.

A knock sounded from the front door and Wren froze. Who was there? She hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks.

She opened the door and Daniel stood there, holding a basket of snacks.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

Wren shook her head. “Daniel, no. You can’t be here. Please.”

“What did I do?” he asked bluntly. His brown eyes were sad.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“You just completely disappeared, Wren. No one has heard from you in ages.” He looke over her outfit. “Going somewhere?”

Wren just silently shook her head.

“What’s going on, Wren?”

What could she possibly tell him? He wouldn’t believe her. No one would. She was utterly alone. Her eyes teared up and a sob escaped from her lips.

“Hey, hey.” Daniel shut the door and pulled her in. “Talk to me.”

Wren sniffled and then told Daniel everything. The notes, the freak accidents, the increasing control. It all sounded insane. She wouldn’t have believed it if she had heard it from someone else.

Daniel was silent for a moment. “Oh Wren, I’m so sorry. What can we do?”

Wren stared at nothing and shrugged numbly. “Nothing we can do. You really need to go.”

She opened the door to let him out and froze. A yellow sticky note lay on the porch.

Daniel came to her side and saw the note. He picked it up and read it, his face paling.

“What? What does it say?” Wren asked.

“It says ‘Make him leave’.”

Wren nearly shoved Daniel towards the door with all her weight. “You have to leave. Please. They’re going to hurt you.”

“Wren,” Daniel interjected. His voice sounded far away. He held out the note.

“What?”

“This is your handwriting.”