Page 122 of Mine To Hunt

She pushes a stack of papers aside and looks directly at me. "The politician who was arrested, it’s bigger than we first thought. The editor wants a complete background package by this evening. The earlier stories are scattered, and some of the older material was never digitized."

I nod, trying to focus. "Alright. Where should I start?"

Hazel grabs a notepad and hands it to me. Several file names are written quickly in blue ink. "These are the physical files stored downstairs. We have digital copies of the recent ones, but the older allegations are only in hard copy. Please check for anything related to financial misconduct, suspicious contracts, or campaign funding issues. We need to cross-check every detail before we publish."

"I’ll bring up everything I can find." I say. "If there’s anything urgent, call me."

"Thank you." She replies, already turning back to her screen. "We’re on a tight deadline."

I head toward the storeroom, my earlier anxiety mixing with the pressure of work. The hallway feels quieter than the newsroom, but my heartbeat is still fast.

When I unlock the storeroom door and step inside, the lighting is dim. Shelves line the walls, filled with old files and dusty boxes stacked unevenly. The air smells like paper and neglect.

I suppress a sneeze as I begin searching. I move slowly along the shelves, scanning the labels carefully. One by one, I pull out files that match the names on the list. The folders are thick, filled with reports, handwritten notes, and faded photocopies.

The politician’s history is messy. Accusations of embezzlement, questionable campaign donations, rumors of secret agreements. I stack the files carefully in my arms, feeling a small sense of control return as I focus on the task. For now, the work is something solid. Something real. Something I can manage.

As I continue searching through the shelves for more files related to the politician, one folder catches my eye. It does not look like the others. The label is different, written in newer ink. It reads,‘Stalking Case. Unsolved.’

For a second, I assume it has been misplaced by mistake, probably during a rushed cleanup. It clearly does not belong with political corruption records. Still, something about it pulls at me. My focus shifts without me meaning it to. I slide the folder out slowly, brushing dust off the top, and open it.

My hands are not steady as I begin reading.

The file is about a young woman named Mily. According to the reports, she was stalked for months. She received anonymousmessages that described her daily routine in detail. Where she went, who she met, what she wore.

The stalker sent her photographs taken from a distance, proving she was being watched. He spread rumors at her workplace that damaged her reputation and slowly pushed her colleagues away from her. He spread her private video.

My throat tightens as I continue reading.

The pattern feels painfully familiar. The texts. The isolation. The way the stalker stayed hidden but controlled everything from the shadows. It mirrors my own experience too closely. My pulse begins to rise.

As I turn the pages, the situation in the file becomes worse. The man escalated. He broke into her flat more than once. He left small objects behind, meaningless items placed deliberately where she would find them, as proof that he could enter her home whenever he wanted.

The notes describe how she began doubting her own memory, her own sanity. She was constantly afraid, unable to feel safe anywhere.

I stop reading for a moment and press my palm against the metal shelf to steady myself. The similarity feels too exact. This cannot be random. If the pattern is similar, he will escalate too. He will get closer.

I flip through the pages more quickly now, scanning every word. The stalker’s methods match mine almost step by step. Psychological pressure. Isolation. Fear used like a tool.

The file states that Mily eventually moved away in an attempt to escape him. But the final page is clear. The case remains unsolved. No suspect identified. No arrest made.

A strange mix of emotions rises inside me. Part of me feels a strange comfort. Proof that I am not imagining this. That someone else went through the same thing. But the larger part of me feels something darker. If it is the same man, then he has done this before. And he got away with it.

I close the file slowly and set it aside, trying to gather myself. I cannot ignore my work completely. I still need to bring Hazel the files she asked for. I collect the politician’s records carefully, stacking them in my arms. My hands are shaking slightly as I carry them upstairs.

When I reach Hazel’s desk, she looks up immediately.

"Did you find everything?" She asks.

"Yes." I reply, placing the stack in front of her. "These are the files on his past allegations. I also found some older reports that may help with cross-checking the financial details."

She flips through the top folder quickly, nodding. "This is exactly what we needed. Thank you. It saves us a lot of time."

"If there’s anything missing, let me know." I say.

"I will." She answers. "For now, this should keep us moving. I appreciate you handling it so quickly."

I nod and step away, returning to my desk. But my attention is no longer on the corruption case. The stalking file feels like it is calling to me. After making sure no one is watching too closely, I open it again quietly.