Her expression suddenly changes as she turns. “Shit,” she exhales, her voice wavering. “What the hell is that?”
Naomi, clearly noticing the panic and the look on our faces, comes over. “What are you guys looking at?” she asks, but the moment she sees the person, her face drains of colour.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, taking a step back.
The room goes completely silent then, and none of us move—none of us even do as much as look at each other. And the figure doesn’t move either, just stands there, motionless in the darkness, as though waiting for something.
I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s probably us.
But it’s only when the figure starts walking over to our house that we really start to panic.
***
My heart pounds in my chest as I watch the figure come to a stop right in front of the door. They don’t knock. They don’t speak. Just stand there, staring at the door. I feel my throat tighten, and the chilling sense of dread wash over me.
They won’t try to break in, will they?
That’s when the banging starts. A sudden, terrifying pounding on the door.
“Get away from the window,” I manage to whisper, my voice trembling. Naomi starts pacing the room, muttering frantically under her breath. I try to think of something calming to say toher—or to myself, honestly—but my brain is running on pure terror right now.
“Did you lock the door when you came in?” Sam’s voice breaks through the tension.
I nod quickly, and her shoulders relax just slightly, as much as they can in a situation like this.
There’s a brief let up in the banging. I grip Naomi’s shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Naomi, breathe. We can’t fall apart now. If we panic, we’re done for.” My words feel flimsy despite my effort not to.
Sam’s eyes are on me. “What’s the plan?”
“I’ll get a knife,” I say, already moving. “Keep her calm.”
She doesn’t get a chance to respond because I’m already sprinting to the kitchen, every creak of the floorboards sends a jolt through me. The kitchen feels too quiet. My hands fumble as I grab three knives, their cold metal digging into my sweaty palms. The banging starts again, each crash against the wood vibrating through my bones.
When I return, Naomi is sobbing, her face buried in her hands. Sam looks up at me, her eyes shadowed with fear. I thrust the knives toward them, my hands shaking so badly that the blades clatter against each other.
“We need to call the police,” Naomi says, her voice breaking.
“Do you think they’ll get here in time?” Sam’s tone is flat.
Naomi’s face crumples. “We have to do something!” Her hands tremble as she grabs my phone. “I’ll call them.”
“Fine,” I snap, my patience unravelling. “Call the police.” I glance toward the hallway, my gut twisting. “I’ll be right back.”
My legs move before I can think, carrying me to my mum’s room. I burst inside, out of breath. “Mum, you need to come with me.”
She’s sitting on the bed, her face blank, her eyes distant. “Mum, please,” I beg, tears stinging my eyes. “We don’t havetime for this. I need you to trust me.” A lump forms in my throat. “Please. I’ve never asked you for anything like this. Please just do this for me.”
Nothing. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink.
Frustration and fear boil over. “Fine,” I say, my voice cracking. “Stay here. I’ll protect you.” I lock her door behind me, my hands trembling so badly I nearly drop the key. Because I don’t know if we can get out of this.
The window in Naomi’s room is too high, and even if we could somehow manage to climb down, it would be too risky with the intruder below us. My thoughts shift to the kitchen window at the back of the house. It’s our only other option for escape. It’s not as high, and if we’re careful, we might be able to make it out unnoticed. But it’s still a risky move.
Back in Naomi’s room, she’s clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline. Who are you calling?” I ask, the edge of my voice as sharp as the knife in my hand.
“Liam,” she whispers.
My jaw drops in both shock and pure horror. Liam.Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of giving the phone to Sam instead? There is no way Liam would make it in time, even if he bothered coming. We’re better off calling the police.
