Page 59 of Your Masked Haunting

“Hello? Can you hear me?” My whisper is desperate and frantic, my heartbeat thumping in my ears.

He gasps, like he’s hurt, a pained grunt leading his words. “Get under your bed. They’re heading to your room.”

“What?” I gasp, frozen in place. “Are you serious?”

Three beeps, and his call’s gone. As is my damn sanity.

Panic floods my body, and I suddenly wish I had a gun, or a knife, or a bat. No, I wish Penelope could transform into a ten-foot-tall spider and protect me.

A loud bang sounds in the hallway, and I scurry away from the door, snatching Penelope’s enclosure from my nightstand.

“It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

Dropping to my knees, I slide under the bed, flattening my body against the length of the back wall, Pen’s cage tucked into the crook of my neck.

Who the hell are these guys?

Robbers who know the secret blueprints of the house? Oh God, they’re going to kill me. Is that what they did with my man? Is he lying downstairs, bleeding out before I can even see his face? The world would be so cruel.

Then I hear it, the click of the mechanism in the hidden door unlatching.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My skin is crawling, my stomach twisted with fear. I’m hugging the enclosure as tightly as I can and slamming my eyes shut in the process.

I don’t want to die. I just finally started enjoying my life. This would be a terrible time to go.

Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.

Heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor as the intruder steps inside my room, the door clicking shut a moment later.

Oh God. He’s sealed himself inside.

Spooky Boy, where are you?

A flicker of light fills my vision as I open my eyes and turn my head to the left to see if maybe I imagined those sounds and whoever it is isn’t here. My body’s quivering, and my palms are sweating. Large boots, similar to mine, are five feet away, facing me, terrorizing me.

He’s going to get free and come for me, save me from whoever this is. Come on, Masked Man.

I’m scared. But not nearly as horrified as I am when the room is plunged into darkness.

Tap. Tap.

A finger hits the wall and drags down the paper, his boots stepping forward. My heart thumps so hard that I’m worried it broke a rib.

There’s no way he knows I’m here. How would he? He’s just clearing the room and moving on to the next. A robber. Nonviolent, I’d like to imagine.

Another step. Two more taps of his finger.

Please be nonviolent.

Step. Tap. Tap.

Step. Tap. Tap.

I can’t see his feet, but he sounds a lot closer. He has to be near the edge of the bed. Weight presses into the mattress, the frame creaking above me. But it must have just been a hand or something because I hear his feet shift against the floor, clanking off the metal on the frame.

A heavy breath fills the room, and I slam my eyes shut again, not that having them closed makes a difference since I couldn’t see anyway.