“Thank you. And thank you for fixing my tires, I really appreciate it.” I tell him.
“You don’t need to thank me, Parker. Get inside and lock the doors.”
No worries there.
“Goodnight, Cole.”
“Goodnight.”
Taking the steps up the porch, I unlock the front door and look over my shoulder to see Cole watching me intently. I offer him a final wave and step inside the house. Locking the door–three times as always–I step into the living room and watch as he backs out of the driveway and pulls away.
Letting out a sigh, I kick off my shoes and drop them in front of the door. I check the locks one more time before discarding the rest of my belongings on the kitchen counter, then make my way back to the bedroom. Flipping on the light, I go over to the french doors and check the lock on them as well. Satisfied that it’s locked, I stroll over to the dresser and pull out a pair of shorts and t-shirt. Dropping them on the bed, I walk into the bathroom and turn that light on as well.
I pull my Ruger from the small of my back and place it on the counter. Turning around, I twist the knobs to the shower and adjust the temperature. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I sigh when I see there arestillno new messages. Pulling up my playlist, I tap the screen a few times and music fills the air. Pushing the volume to the max, I place it on the counter next to my gun and let out a huff. My brain is struggling to wrap around how my tires suddenly all went flat, and that feeling of being watched again outside of the bar.
Undressing, I step into the shower and lean my head back, letting the hot water soak into my hair. Tension leaves my shoulders as I lift my head to look at the ceiling, and close my eyes. After standing under the steady stream of the water for a little while, I drop my head and reach for my shampoo. I squeeze some into the palm of my hand and place the bottle back in its spot. Beginning to lather the shampoo on my scalp, the song changes toLovelyby Lauren Babic and Seraphim. Humming along to the song, I finish working in the shampoo and start to rinse it.
Suds slide down my back and into the drain, taking my frustration from only a moment ago with it. Opening my eyes, I reach for my conditioner when the hairs on my body stand at attention, and a rush of nausea slams into me. Freezing in place, my breaths start to come in ragged. The feeling of eyes boring into me intensifies, and my knees start to buckle.
A loud crash comes from the direction of my bedroom, and the lights abruptly cut off. My erratic heart rate pounds in my ears, making it difficult to hear anything. Squeezing my eyes closed, I suck in a deep breath and force my pulse to slow the best that I can. Opening them slowly, I exhale and strain my ears. Slowly I reach behind me, fumbling for the shower knob. My fingers brush against it and I turn the water off. Bracing myself, I cautiously push the shower curtain back and reach for a towel. Wrapping it around my body, I step out of the tub and over to the counter. The backlight from my phone illuminates the bathroom just enough for me to see, and I reach for my gun.
As quietly as I can, I pull the slide to chamber a bullet and the weapon softly clicks as the slide goes back into its place. Inhaling deeply, I side step out of the bathroom with the weapon raised.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echo in the silence of the bedroom from outside on the deck, much louder than the last time I heard them.
I fucking knew there was someone here that day.
A cold chill slithers down my spine, forcing it ramrod straight. The footsteps are coming from in front of me, but it feels like there’s someone right behind me. Slowly, I turn my head and force my eyes to adjust to the pitch black room behind me and squint.
I can’t see anything.
Bang!
The sound of something slamming into the french doors makes me jump and my heart leaps into my throat. The sound of my labored breathing fills the room, and I force myself to step forward toward the doors.
This shit ends, now!
My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I take cautious steps forward as I adjust my grip on the Ruger and release a shaky exhale.
I knew I wasn’t losing it. There is someone here. And they’re about to meet their fucking maker.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Whoever is out there slams into the door over and over again with a force so hard, the sound rings in my ears and the doors seem to bow a little with the force. A scream leaves my throat and I jump back, tripping over the end of the bed and falling on my ass. Tears sting my eyes as I scoot myself backward, losing my towel in the process.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The banging continues and my back makes contact with a wall. The sound grows louder and louder and my hands raise to cover my ears, dropping the Ruger between my legs. My body trembles and tears flow freely down my cheeks. My mind’s affliction of paranoia deepens, and I scramble to stop it; to somehow fight the battle I’ve been slowly losing.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real. Make it stop! Make it stop!
More banging comes from another direction in the house I can’t quite pinpoint through my covered ears. Squeezing my eyes shut, I drop my head to my knees and a horrified scream escapes my lips.
Just as quickly as the banging started, it stops. The only sounds left in my house are the screams I can’t seem to stop.Why won’t they stop? Why can’t I stop?
Footsteps sound in the hallway, approaching the bedroom. Reaching down, I grab my gun and scoot myself in the dark across the floor. My back bumping into my nightstand just as a dark figure swallows the doorway of my bedroom. With tears still streaming down my face, I raise my weapon and point it at the shadow that is somehow darker than the rest of the room.
