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No. I’m on my own. Like always.

Just go to sleep, Max.

This is what they wanted. For me to lie awake wasting my time and energy thinking about whatever cruel game they have in store for me.

That’s all this is. Just another mind game. And if I give in to it, they win.

That’s the thought I cling to as I shift beneath the covers, trying to get comfortable and force sleep to come. I must eventually succeed because the next thing I know, I’m startled awake by a sound downstairs.

I lie perfectly still, listening, but there’s nothing.

Seconds tick by, and when the sound doesn’t come again, my tense muscles slowly begin to relax.

It was only a dream. Nothing else.

Then I hear it again. A loud thump coming from downstairs.

“Who’s there?” I call out, jumping out of bed and rushing to the door.

I’m reaching for the handle when a familiar, sinister laugh drifts up the stairs.

“Come play with us, Max,” Peyton calls out, her taunt followed by a chorus of muffled laughter and hushed whispers from the others. “I know you want to.”

Shit! The psychos are in my house.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

I twist the lock and press my back against the door, frantically scanning my bedroom for anything I could use as a weapon.

I got nothing, though. Not even a fucking baseball bat to protect me. All I have are my bookshelves. Like hell am I sacrificing one of my hardbacks by throwing it at their heads.

“Hey, piggy, piggy!” Delaney taunts from the hallway. “Don’t be shy. We won’t hurt you…” A beat of silence ensues. “Much.” Her laughter follows.

Still, it’s the second laugh joining hers that has me slowly sliding down the door right to the floor—Misty.

“Don’t be shy now,” Jordan coos. “We only want to give you a little makeover.”

“Yeah,” Delaney adds. “Do something about that face. Maybe give you a nice little scar.”

My hand instinctively rises to my cheek.

I suck in a shaky breath and force myself to remain completely silent.

Maybe they’ll leave if they think I’m not home.

Who the fuck am I kidding?

Of course they know I’m home. I even yelled, ‘Who’s there?’

Not that I wouldn’t put it past Peyton to have tracked my every move today. She probably knows I didn’t go to work. That I stayed locked inside this house all day, letting these crazy bitches live rent-free in my head.

“You can either come out on your own,” Amber calls, her voice carrying up the stairs, “or we’ll make you come out.”

I press my lips together and hug my knees tighter to my chest.

“Okay,” Brooke says with a sigh, just as a floorboard creaks on the other side of the door. “Have it your way.”

The sound of plates shattering downstairs has me gritting my teeth, but I still don’t dare leave my spot. I hear them laughing as they make their way through the house, wreaking havoc as they go, as if this is all one big joke to them. Every few seconds, another crash echoes, making me wince as I wonder what they’ve destroyed this time.