Hawthorne, California, 2007

Ace had been obsessed with you from the moment you arrived at this school. In class, at lunch—his eyes were always on you. He wasn’t subtle. He’d sit alone at a table, never eating, just hunched over a battered notebook, scribbling while staring at you. The first thing your friends said when you met them was a warning.

“Ace is weird,” they told you. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Just… don’t get involved.”

Everyone seemed to know his story. His dad left years ago, and ever since, Ace had been a fixture in the counselor’s office. The rumors were endless—therapy sessions, anger issues, whispers that he wasn’t right in the head. Most kids avoided him entirely.

Prom was coming up, and you didn’t have a date. The plan was to go with friends, but the idea of the night still thrilled you—dressing up, staying out late, the music, the freedom.

One evening, while walking to a friend’s house, the streets were eerily quiet. The faint hum of the streetlights was the only sound as you passed under their flickering glow. That’s when you felt it—that unmistakable sensation of being watched.

You told yourself to ignore it, that it was just your imagination. But the feeling didn’t go away. Then, suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder.