Now I can’t remember. I don’t know what I did or didn’t do…
With my heart pounding, I step into the house, close and lock the door. I swipe the wall for the light switch. It illuminates the area, and I look around. Nothing is disturbed, and I don’tsenseanyone is here, but that doesn’t mean it’s true—or that they weren’t.
The closet door taunts me, and I yank it open to make sure no one is hiding inside—it’s empty. Before going deeper into the house, I go to the kitchen and grab a knife, my blood rushing through my ears.
My hand shakes as I hold the knife outward, ready to stab someone if they jump out at me—though, I do know that scenario is unlikely.
The first room I reach is the spare room. I turn the knob and kick the door open, flipping on the light, but of course that’s empty too. There is no closet in this room, and no space under the platform bed, so there’s nothing left to check. The piles ofboxes are pushed against the wall, so there is no room to hide behind them either. The bathroom is next, and it too is empty. Tearing back the shower curtain nearly gives me a heart attack, but I do it. I have to be sure. I won’t get peace if I don’t check every inch.
The only room left is my room.
The door sits open, as it usually does, and from here I see into most of it. But there is a closet in my room. It’s not big, but it’s big enough to fit a person. Same with beneath the bed. I slowly walk toward the room, being as quiet as I can and willing my hand to stay steady. If someone is in my house, this is the only place left they could be hiding. I’ve checked everything else. And I suppose it is the most likely place for someone to hide, wouldn’t it be?
I take a deep, quiet breath before stopping in the doorway and swiping the wall for the light. The room brightens, and I see nothing under my bed from here, but I can hardly see anything underneath at all because of the angle. I step into the room and glance into the open closet… empty. I walk toward it, then bend down to look under my bed—which is also free of a person.
I fall onto my butt and lean against the wall, clutching the knife to my chest, and start to cry.
“Do you want me to come by?” Amelia asks on the other end of the phone.
“I don’t know,” I say, sniffling.
“I can, if you want me to. I’ll grab an Uber.”
“I just don’t want this to be my life, Amelia.”
“I know that, but let’s just think of it as a bestie sleepover and nothing more.”
Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the cool wall.
I haven’t moved from this spot in an hour, and finally decided to call Amelia because the quiet was getting to me. I don’t have any other friends to call, no one that I can trust.
My first thought was to call Sam, but that is such a bad idea. Then I thought to call Jaxon, and I can’t tell if that’s worse or not.
Shadow isn’t an option, because well, he doesn’t know where I live and what the hell could he do to help? I don’t even know him.
“Okay,” I finally say. “But let me order the Uber for you.”
“If it’ll make you feel better.” I hear her eye roll through the phone.
“It will.”
I put the phone on speaker while I navigate to the app, enter her address and mine.
“It says one can be there in twelve minutes,” I say.
“Sounds good to me. My stuff is already packed.” I hear her shuffling around. A door opening and closing. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Not since before class,” I say, glancing at the clock. It’s nearly eleven.
“Does anyone deliver pizza this late?”
“Let me check.” I pull up the search engine and type it in. “There’s one place that delivers until one.”
“Yes! Let’s do that. I’m starving—and I’m paying.”
“It’ll be easier for me to do it because I can do it right now.”
“Sailor! Stop doing that. I can pay for things too.”
