Wrong Key
Alyanna, after a long day at the office, had finished and submitted all her deadlines hours before her workday ended. She sighed deeply, sinking into her office chair, her eyes tracing the slow rotations of the ceiling fan. This job had once been her dream. She had chosen this career in college, envisioning a future filled with passion and purpose. But now, the weight of unfulfilled expectations pressed on her chest. Was this really what she wanted? The regret of pursuing something she once loved only to find it draining and unsatisfying gnawed at her. So this is why they say not to turn your passion into work. It tires you out until you’re left with neither passion nor fulfillment—just a job that doesn’t meet your expectations, both emotionally and financially.
Aegis Corporation was a giant in the media industry, housing artists, actors, film productions, and record labels. Alyanna’s department handled marketing materials for movies and series, but it was far from the projects she’d dreamed of. She’d hoped to someday work on campaigns for Burning Red, a band under Tamper Productions which is a subsidiary of Aegis. Occasionally, she’d spot the band members around the building for shoots or meetings, and those fleeting moments fueled her aspirations. But for now, that goal seemed out of reach.
She stood up, grabbing her bright red mug—a gift from her friend Sandra—and decided she needed another coffee to jumpstart ideas for the next meeting. The office was quiet at this hour, the usual bustle replaced by faint whispers of printers and distant conversations. Alyanna headed toward the shared pantry, keeping her gaze on the floor to avoid unnecessary interaction. She didn’t have the energy to socialize.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, but another sound made her pause. Footsteps behind her. At first, she dismissed it, but as the steps quickened to match her own, unease prickled at her skin. She glanced at the reflective glass panel beside her, catching a blurry image of a woman following closely. Her pulse quickened. The figure was gaining on her. Alyanna’s heartbeat spiked as she sped up, clutching her mug tighter.
She reached the pantry door and, in her haste, fumbled the mug. It slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. Before she could reach for it, a hand beat her to it. Alyanna flinched, clutching her chest as she turned to face the person.
“Hey, Alyanna,” said Cameron, her department manager.
Alyanna exhaled, relief washing over her. “Oh, hi. Nagulat naman ako sayo Ma’am Cameron.”
“Oh shush, Cameron na lang. Parang others naman,” Cameron smiled, holding out the mug. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, just a little jittery. I’ve had a bad headache all morning.”
Cameron’s brows furrowed with concern. “That’s been happening a lot, masakit din ulo mo nung isang araw right? You should get that checked.”
“It’s fine. May iniinom na ‘kong gamot and sa umaga lang naman masakit ulo ko,” Alyanna replied, reaching for the mug. But Cameron’s fingers lingered on the handle, her grip firm.
“How about you leave early today?” Cameron suggested, her tone gentle but insistent. “I saw na you’ve submitted everything na.”
“Can I?” Alyanna asked hesitantly, looking up at her manager. As she did, she noticed faint marks on Cameron’s neck. They were partially concealed with makeup but still visible. Alyanna suppressed a knowing smirk. Misty, Cameron’s girlfriend and Alyanna’s longtime friend, had clearly been her usual mischievous self.
“Of course. I don’t want you passing out here,” Cameron said with a chuckle. Her expression softened. “I care about you, you know. You’re not just Misty’s friend; you’re my friend too.”
Cameron’s hand brushed Alyanna’s arm in a reassuring gesture before she finally let go of the mug. “Get some rest, okay?”
Alyanna nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
Cameron smiled before turning and walking away. Alyanna stood by the pantry door, feeling a mix of gratitude and unease. Cameron’s gestures were… thoughtful, perhaps a bit too thoughtful. Shaking her head, she decided not to dwell on it.
As she gathered her things to leave, she reminded herself to text Misty later. “Take it easy on Cameron,” she muttered to herself, thinking about the marks on her manager’s neck. They were definitely Misty’s doing.
On her way out of the building, Alyanna’s mind wandered to her college days. She and Misty had been wild back then, indulging in reckless adventures that now felt like a lifetime ago. Clubbing on weeknights, kissing strangers, and taking turns doing outrageous dares with her friends—they did it all. Once, during a house party, they’d sneaked into the master bedroom of Tyler, a rich varsity player in their university. They’d tried on his mother’s dresses and jewelry before stumbling upon her collection of… unconventional items. Sandra, ever the daredevil, had ended up strapped to a leash on her neck, acting and crawling around like a dog until Tyler caught them.
Another time, at a bar filled with an older crowd, Alyanna had been dared to flirt with a fifty-year-old woman. The woman had seemed quite willing, and Alyanna was certain she could’ve left with a slice of her property and land if she’d stuck around longer. Then there was the Burning Red gig where she was dared to throw her bra on stage with her number written on it. It landed in front of their bassist, Maddie, but she’d never found out if anyone picked it up; she’d been too busy running away, laughing hysterically with her friends.
The most outrageous dare had been at Sasha’s birthday party during a game of "7 Minutes in Heaven." When the bottle landed on her, Alyanna reached to spin again, but Sasha stopped her with a mischievous grin and nudged her into the closet alone. Confused, Alyanna wondered what she was supposed to do without a partner—wasn’t the point to make out with someone? She then found herself standing inside the walk-in closet, unsure of what to expect.
What happened next was something she'd rather forget, a moment she would never bring up again. The alcohol clouded her judgment, and she hated herself for it. Alyanna still cringed at the memory, vowing never to bring it up again. Alcohol had been the culprit, she told herself.
After graduation, their wild escapades came to a halt. Misty settled down with Cameron. Sandra and Sasha became too busy with their grueling schedules as professional dancers. Moving to Manila only added to the distance between them and their old friends from Cebu. Alyanna sometimes missed those carefree days but knew they couldn’t last forever.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts.
Contact Name: Jas
Jas: Hey
Alyanna stared at the screen before locking her phone without replying. Gathering her things, she left the office. On her way home, she stopped by a convenience store. She stared at the rows of drinks, her eyes landing on a small pack of Smirnoff cans. Her fingers hovered over a larger pack but hesitated. Saving money. That was important. She reminded herself of the unopened bag of chips waiting at home and skipped the snack aisle entirely.
The apartment felt eerie the moment she walked in. It was too still, the air heavy with something she couldn’t name. Her paranoia kicked in as soon as she stepped inside. She scanned the room instinctively, checking for anything out of place. Her eyes darted to the corners, the shadows playing tricks on her.
It wasn’t just tonight. The past few days had been strange.
She hadn’t told anyone about the mornings she woke up with a pounding headache and a damp, sticky neck. The sweat felt unnatural, as though it wasn’t her own.
On Monday, she’d collapsed on her bed after work—a habit she hated. Outside clothes didn’t belong on her bed, but exhaustion won that battle. She then noticed that her bed felt unnervingly warm that night, as if someone else had been there.
On Tuesday, the bathroom light had been left on. She’d blamed herself but couldn’t remember doing it.
On Wednesday, there was a cigarette butt on her balcony. She didn’t smoke.
Thursday brought a faint, unfamiliar scent on her pillow—earthy, musky, wrong.
And yesterday, her toothbrush was wet in the evening, though she hadn’t touched it since the morning.
She told her friend Misty in passing, hoping for reassurance, but Misty only laughed it off. “Nako, sabihin ko nga kay Cameron bawasan load mo sa work. Stress yan sa work kaya nagiging makakalimutin ka na like Cameron. Stress lang yan sis,” she’d said. But was she?
Tonight, Alyanna inspected every corner before allowing herself to relax. The room wasn’t warm, but her skin prickled as if something unseen was watching. She set her drinks on the coffee table and turned on the TV, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolled through YouTube. A beer can was cracked open and drained in one long gulp, the alcohol warming her stomach but doing little to ease her nerves.
After her second beer, she stood to grab ice from the fridge. The remaining cans weren’t cold enough, and her throat burned for something chilled. She also wanted a snack to settle her growing unease. She rummaged through the cabinet, looking for the familiar yellow of her Lay's chips.
It wasn’t there.
Frowning, she settled for a pack of Piattos. On her way back to the sofa, she tossed the empty beer can into the trash—and froze. The unmistakable yellow packaging of Lay’s stared back at her from inside the bin.
Her breath hitched as she pulled the crumpled bag out, her hands shaking. She hadn’t eaten it. She was sure of it. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut: someone had been in her apartment.
Her mind raced, and with trembling hands, she opened her group chat:
Alyanna, Yves, Sandra, Saddie
Alyanna:Hey, sleepover at my place?
Sasha:Huhu pass, may event kami ni Sandra e.
Alyanna:Aww, good luck with your performance!
Sasha:Thank you bb. See you soon.
Alyanna:@Misty ??
Misty:Huhu, pass din muna. May need lang akong gawin tonight.
Alyanna:It’s okay. I just miss you all.
As much as she feared being alone, she didn’t want to burden her friends by unloading the real details and her anxiety. The thought of them abandoning their current tasks for her was unbearable. So, in a desperate attempt to avoid solitude, she replied to Jas, her dependable ‘friend’ who lived nearby.
4:05 pm Jas: Hey
Alyanna: hey, can you come by?
Jas: boyfriend’s out tonight? haha
Alyanna: yea just come over pls
Jas: i won’t be done here until 10, is that okay?
Alyanna: sure, just enter. same code.
Jas was someone she’d met on a stan account for Burning Red. They started as mutuals, bonding over late-night tweets and simping over the members. Their friendship deepened when they attended a concert together, which led to an impromptu hotel stay. That night blurred the lines between friends and something more. Jas became her go-to for no-strings-attached comfort—an arrangement Alyanna’s friends knew nothing about.
They still believed she had turned over a new leaf after her wild college days and was now solely focused on her career. But Alyanna was just a girl with needs. Initially, she’d been charmed by Jas’s awkward, nerdy energy. What really drew her in, though, was Jas’s striking red hair—eerily similar to Maddie’s, Burning Red’s lead singer, known for her iconic crimson hair. Alyanna hated to admit it, even to herself, but Maddie’s influence was undeniable. It wasn’t that she was delusional or wanted Maddie herself; she respected the boundary between idol and fan. Yet, anyone who vaguely resembles Maddie’s vibe—the hair, the stature, the aura—would inevitably catch her eye.
Jas, with her dyed hair and grunge-inspired style, fit the mold. But there were differences. Maddie’s nonchalance, her intimidating coolness, her unapproachable allure—those were things Jas didn’t possess. Jas was soft, eager to please, submissive. At first, Alyanna loved being the one in control, seeing Jas’s teary, pleading eyes beneath her. But her endearment wore off. As much as she enjoyed dominating, she also wanted to be on the receiving end sometimes, to let go and feel taken care of. Jas couldn’t give her that. Their arrangement, once thrilling, had become hollow—a cycle of unmet expectations. Unwilling to confront the truth, she lied, telling Jas she had found a boyfriend. It was easier that way.
Even after that, they kept in touch. Alyanna wasn’t fond of hooking up with strangers, so Jas remained her fallback for when her primal desires took over.
Settling into her seat, she sighed. A few hours of waiting wouldn’t be so bad. At least she wouldn’t have to spend the whole night alone. She cracked open her third can of beer, the tipsy warmth spreading through her as she half-watched random vlogs and music shows. Her stomach churned slightly from the fullness, but she didn’t care. Anything to pass the time until Jas arrived.
Alyanna sat quietly in her dimly lit apartment, her eyes glued to her phone screen. Her fourth can of beer sat half-empty on the table, her body teetering between tipsy and full. She absentmindedly scrolled through YouTube until a video caught her attention: a 14-minute interview with Burning Red. The thumbnail blared, “Maddie’s Love Revelation,” alongside a clickbait-worthy photo of Maddie, her idol, smiling coyly. Alyanna couldn’t resist.
She hadn’t kept up with the band much since deactivating her stan account. Her obsession had simmered down, or so she told herself. But Maddie, with her iconic red hair and effortless charisma, always had a magnetic pull. Alyanna clicked on the video, settling into her seat as the opening question played.
The band’s members spoke about their rise to fame, future plans, and concerts.Alyanna perked up every time Maddie was handed the mic, but Maddie, being allergic to it, acted like she didn’t notice, which Alyanna thought was funny. The interview transitioned into personal questions, and Alyanna’s heart raced when the interviewer asked about their love lives. The members laughed nervously, brushing off the question saying they don’t really have the time right now, but they are not closing the doors. When the mic reached Gianne, the guitarist shyly admitted that her heart still belonged to a long-time crush from college. Alyanna smiled faintly at the wholesome confession.
Then the mic was handed to Maddie. The air shifted. The room’s playful energy dimmed into a tense silence. Maddie held the mic, seemingly weighing her words. Dara, the lead vocalist, chuckled awkwardly and interjected, “Wala yan, ano, wala din yan time,” followed by the band’s forced laughter. Alyanna knew that laugh. Something was off.
Maddie finally spoke. “I’m living with someone right now.”
Alyanna’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred as an ad abruptly interrupted the video. She fumbled with the remote, shutting the TV off. In the black screen’s reflection, she saw herself: disheveled hair, oversized house clothes, and a puffy, tired face from the beer. Her chest tightened. Maddie’s revelation had cracked something inside her.
She chuckled bitterly at her reflection. She’d never be the kind of girl Maddie could love. She’d never belong in her world. Maddie was untouchable—a fantasy—and yet, Alyanna’s delusions had turned into a gnawing obsession. She wanted to be happy for her idol but couldn’t shake the jealousy and emptiness. With trembling hands, she stood up and approached her bed, she removed the signed polaroid of Maddie from her corkboard. She held it for a long moment, then placed it inside her bedside drawer. She couldn’t throw it away—not yet—but she don’t want to see it.
Her phone buzzed, seeing Jas reacted heart to her message, and she remembered inviting Jas over. She groaned, her interest in ‘activities’ with her fubu long gone. Exhaustion weighed on her as she crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over her head.
Alyanna woke to a wet sensation trailing down her neck. Her body froze. She lay on her side, feeling the heat of someone pressed against her back. A hand caressed her arm, fingertips lightly tracing patterns up and down before slipping beneath her shirt. The touch was soft, deliberate, sending shivers through her. Another hand expertly unclasped her bra in one fluid motion. She gasped, thinking that Jas had helped herself by touching her while she was asleep. She remembered suggesting and giving consent to the idea of spontaneous sleep sex with Jas before, but Jas, being the bottom that she was, had always been too unskilled and hesitant to follow through. She couldn’t help but wonder where Jas had found the motivation and skill to do this.
The kisses on her neck intensified, lips lingering on her sensitive spots, making her exhale shakily. A hand moved to her breast, groping softly as if measuring her. The other teased her taut nipples with gentle flicks that sent jolts of pleasure through her body. She gasped. “Ugh, Jas,” she moaned, her voice laced with sleep and desire.
She glanced at the clock. 1:00 AM. The dull ache in her head reminded her of the beer she’d consumed earlier. She wanted to enjoy the moment but couldn’t shake her exhaustion. “Jas, I’m sleepy,” she murmured.
The movements stopped. The hands retracted. Alyanna sighed in relief and adjusted her shirt, rolling onto her back. She turned to face Jas, but before she could, a hand holding a handkerchief pressed against her face. Confused, she inhaled instinctively. A strange, sweet scent filled her nose, and within seconds, dizziness overtook her. Her vision blurred, and darkness swallowed her whole.
Alyanna woke again, her head pounding. Sunlight streamed through the curtains. She glanced at her bedside clock: 11:30 AM. Thank God it was Sunday. Her body felt heavy, and her nipples were still taut, a faint reminder of last night. She shook her head, trying to piece together what happened. She didn’t feel any discomfort below, so she assumed Jas had stopped after she passed out. Jas must have left for work.
Dragging herself out of bed, Alyanna decided today would be a lazy day. She switched her phone to Do Not Disturb and played her Burning Red playlist. Their music always had a way of lifting her spirits. Humming along, she boiled water for instant coffee. As the kettle whistled, she poured the water into her cup and stirred absentmindedly.
Returning to the living room, she noticed the cans and chip bags were gone. Jas must have cleaned up before leaving. She shrugged it off and stepped onto the balcony with her coffee. The wind was crisp, carrying the faint sounds of city life below. Alyanna leaned on the railing, watching people and cars pass by. Her eyes landed on a sleek motorbike parked haphazardly on the sidewalk. “Tarantado naman ng nag park non, humarang pa talaga,” she muttered, annoyed by the inconsiderate parking job.
She sat down, tying her hair into a bun. Her gaze fell on the floor, where another cigarette butt lay. Picking it up, she realized it was the same brand—Marlboro—as the one she’d found a few days ago. Suspicion crept in. Her apartment was on the top floor, with no rooftop above her. The only explanation was that one of her neighbors was tossing them deliberately onto her balcony. Alyanna sighed, flicking the butt into the trash.
She’s trying to reason everything out, but she can’t help the suffocating unease building in her chest, gnawing at her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Every corner of her space felt like it was closing in on her, the air thick and stifling. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed to get out. Her friends were the perfect excuse, and maybe a bit of distraction too.
She moved toward her bedside table, her fingers grazing over as she reached for her phone. The cold touch of the device sent a shiver down her spine. As she lifted it, her eyes caught something out of place on her corkboard. A flash of color—her mind barely had time to process it before she was already walking over. It was the Polaroid. The one of her and Maddie, the one she had specifically taken down yesterday.
It was back. Exactly where it had been, as though it had never been removed. Her breath hitched in her throat. Why?
Jas. It had to be Jas. But no—no, how would Jas know where exactly to put it back. She hasn’t even been here in a month.
A cold wave of dread crept through her veins, and she instinctively grabbed for her phone to text her friends, desperate for any sense of normalcy, anything to pull her out of this spiraling tension. Her thumb hovered over the screen, and then she froze.
The last message on her phone was from Jas .
“I can’t come tonight pala, I had to finish something sorry bawi ako.”
Her stomach twisted violently. She read it again.
I can’t come tonight
Her fingers trembled as she stared at the time it was sent—1:33 AM. It had been 1:00 AM last night when—when she thought Jas was with her in her apartment. But that wasn’t right. That wasn’t Jas.
Her blood ran cold, the creeping realization settling deep in her gut. Her thoughts scattered as her mind scrambled for some explanation that made sense, but there was none. Her memory shot back to her checking the bedside clock last night, her heart hammering in her chest as she remembered the time vividly, 1:00 AM. The exact time she’d felt the presence.
No. No, no, no…
Shaking, she slid her thumb across the screen and opened her contacts, dialing Misty’s number to pick her up. It rang once. Twice.
No connection.
Her throat tightened as she glanced at the screen. No connection.
Panic set in as she looked up, her eyes darting to the Wi-Fi modem. It was off. No lights, no indicators, it was off.
Her pulse quickened as she rushed to the cord, her hands fumbling over the wires, searching for what could have gone wrong. And there it was. The wire had been cut. Clean, sharp. Not something a rat could do. It was deliberate.
She swore under her breath, her mind racing. She had no backup. No prepaid load. She’d cut corners to save money, and now she was paying for it.
Determined to leave, she snatched up her wallet and keys. She had to get out. She needed to leave. But just as she reached the door, she heard it.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
Followed by the sound of the door lock turning, but it didn’t go through. Wrong key.
Not Jas. Jas knew her password like the back of her hand. This wasn’t Jas.
Her breath caught in her throat, the air thick and suffocating, as the sound continued, a series of clicks.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
The knob didn’t turn again. Wrong key.
Her pulse hammered in her ears as she stood there, frozen. Her mind screamed at her to do something—anything—but her body refused to obey.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
Toot.
Her blood ran ice-cold, and she felt as if the world around her was closing in. She should scream. She should hide. She should fight. But all she could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, paralyzed.
And then, after a long, agonizing pause, she heard it. The door creaked.
It was moving.
The intruder was inside.