I would just swing open the door so I could prove that to myself that I was just being paranoid.
Your mind is making this stuff up.
But my breathing was shallow and uneven as I silently crept toward the last stall. I paused, listening for something, anything, to indicate that I wasn’t alone.
I stepped forward, but my hand hovered in midair as if unwilling to push it open.
I need to prove this is all in my head.
“Mila, what are you doing?” Oleg stood at the far door, staring at me with bewilderment. “Are you okay?”
My entire body sagged in relief. Without touching the door in question, I walked back toward him rapidly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He looked around the room. “You alone?”
“Yep,” I sounded breathless. “It’s just me in here.”
But when I looked back at the empty room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was there.
When we stepped outside the bathroom, I grabbed his arm. “Can you go check the last stall for me?”
He didn’t ask any questions, just turned and disappeared back into the bathroom in record speed. I followed him and watched him push open the door with his weapon drawn.
He holstered it and looked at me. “There’s no one here.”
I felt my entire body relax. “Sorry, I’m feeling so paranoid lately.”
He gave me a hard look. “Next time, I’m coming in here with you. No exceptions.”
Three days later,I stood in the living room, remote in hand, while my dinner heated up in the microwave behind me.
“What’s going on with the TV?” I asked Bandit, but he was staring past me at the front door.
“Stop being spooked,” I told him, as every single channel indicated that I had a networking error. I looked outside. It was twilight. There was no rain yet, but the wind was whipping the trees into a frenzied dance against the darkening sky.
I turned off the TV and threw the remote on the couch. “Guess we’ll catch up with our show later,” I told Bandit as I bent over him.
He ignored my snuggles and peered around me, listening in an active way.
“What is it, boy?” I asked him, feeling a bit unnerved.
He took off in a careful trot toward the foyer and then sat in front of the stairs and emitted a low growl. Then, as abruptly as he’d started, he stopped, lifted his head and stared up at the dark landing on the second floor.
“It’s fine,” I told him, not feeling fine at all. I caught sight of a figure standing at the top of the steps.
Sergei.
A sharp scared scream escaped my throat at the same time Bandit lost his mind.
Bandit moved halfway up the stairs, barking with a feral ferocity that scared even me.
When I scanned the top of the landing again, he was gone.
Bandit continued his deafening bark, holding his position halfway up the stairs, but his tail was tucked firmly between his legs in fear.
The front door burst open, and Anton looked between me and Bandit. He swung the door shut.
I pointed. “Sergei. He’s upstairs.”
