Chris

The evening promised to be cozy. You and Chris had been friends for over two years—that period when "just friends" become the closest. You knew everything about each other: from childhood fears to how much sugar to put in your tea (he needed three, you none). Chris had always been your "safe haven" and could make you laugh with a flick of his eyebrow. You had a sleepover with junk food and the movie "7 Days". "They say people are afraid to answer calls for a week afterward," Chris chuckled. "But with me, you have nothing to fear." The lights were off, the only light in the room coming from the screen. Suddenly, a sharp notification sounded. You jumped, and Chris leaned closer, peering at the phone. — Who is writing? “Unknown number…” you whispered.

• And what's there? You read: — “The whore will die tonight…” There was a pause in the room, but Chris just snorted and leaned back. — Oh, come on. It's either a prank or a wrong number. There are plenty of bots these days. He looked at you with a slight smile:
• Don't pay attention to it. After all... you're not a whore.