Missed Steps – Episode 7: The Threshold
- facethyfear
- Mar 1
- 3 min read
A FaceThyFear Original Story
The Weight of It
It shouldn’t have felt this heavy.
Not even an ounce, but in his palm, it might as well have been a brick of lead.
Zay held the bag between his fingers, twisting it ever so slightly. The powder inside clung to the plastic like static. Smooth, fine, almost pearlescent.
His stomach tightened. His jaw locked.
He could smell it.
Even through the plastic, his body knew.
The phantom drip hit the back of his throat, like his brain was already three steps ahead, like it didn’t need permission.
• His pulse slowed.
• His breath deepened.
• His fingertips tingled.
His mouth watered.
The Question That Shouldn’t Exist
Was this always in his pocket?
He didn’t remember taking it.
• Had it been there the whole time?
• Did she put it there?
• Did he take it without realizing?
• Did he… steal it?
• Had someone wanted him to have it?
The thought sent a shiver up his spine.
He had been high too many times to count. But this—this was something else.
The paranoia crawled up his throat like bile.
The Noise
Outside the van—nothing.
No footsteps. No voices. Just the hum of the city drowned under light rain.
But something felt off.
Then—
A sound.
Not a knock. Not a bang.
Just a shift.
Like weight against the van.
Soft. Slow. Deliberate.
Zay didn’t move.
His fingers tightened around the bag.
The Mirror
His breathing was too loud.
He forced himself to look up—just enough to catch his own reflection in the rearview mirror.
And for a second—
It wasn’t him.
• His eyes were wrong.
• His face looked stretched.
• His expression—twisted.
Like he was watching someone else sit in his seat.
A stranger.
His chest locked. His pulse hammered.
The bag crinkled in his grip.
The Knock
It came so soft, he almost thought he imagined it.
One.
Two.
Three taps.
Slow. Even.
Right at the driver’s side window.
Zay’s lungs refused to work.
No one should be there.
He turned his head an inch at a time.
His eyes flicked to the glass—
Nothing.
No one.
Just the rain.
But the window was fogged.
Like someone had been breathing against it.
The Phone
His personal phone lit up on the dash.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Zay stared.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then it stopped.
No voicemail. No message.
Like it had never happened.
His hand dug into his pocket—hard.
The bag of coke—
Was gone.
The Impossible
His chest clenched. His hand trembled as he turned his pockets inside out.
Nothing.
His stomach flipped. He knew it had been there. He’d just been staring at it. Holding it.
Then—
A soft crinkle.
Behind him.
Inside the van.
Zay’s heart stopped.
He turned his head one inch at a time, his breath frozen in his throat.
The plastic bag.
Sitting on the passenger seat.
Right next to his phone.
His screen lit up again.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
The ringing pierced his skull.
He didn’t move.
The phone rang.
Rang.
Then—
A whisper.
A voice through the static of his mind.
“Pick up.”
The screen went black.
THE END?
Official Disclaimer & Copyright Notice
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Missed Steps is a psychological thriller series under the FaceThyFear brand. The events, characters, and situations depicted are entirely fictional and do not reflect real-life persons or occurrences. This series explores themes of addiction, paranoia, and psychological tension, intended for mature audiences. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, please seek professional help.
COPYRIGHT © 2025 FACETHYFEAR™
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized distribution, reproduction, or use of this work is prohibited.
Commentaires