Grace woketo the sound of somethingwrong.
Her eyes snapped open, heart racing, the dark of her bedroom unfamiliar for a disorienting second.
The house was quiet. No voices. No footsteps. Just the low hum of the refrigerator down the hall and the faint rush of blood in her ears.
She lay still, listening.
A soft scrape.
Her breath caught.
It sounded like it came from somewhere near the back of the house—wood against wood, faint and careful. Not an accident. Not the house settling.
Grace slid one hand under her pillow and wrapped her fingers around her phone.
Don’t panic, she told herself. Panic would make noise. Panic would make mistakes.
She stayed still long enough to hear it once more. She wasn’t imagining it.
Her stomach dropped.
Grace swung her legs out of bed and moved quietly, bare feet tiptoeing across the floor. The hallway felt longer in the dark, every shadow stretched into something waiting. She stopped just before the kitchen, heart hammering so hard she was sure it would give her away.
Nothing moved.
But the back door—she couldfeelit. The presence of it, like a held breath.
The door handle turned.
For one horrifying second she thought the door would open?—
But the lock held.
A second later, the handle jerked harder. Testing. Trying.
She backed up instead, retreating step by careful step until she was in the living room, crouched behind the couch, phone clutched tight in her hand.
She dialed and the screen seemed too bright in the dark room.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “Someone is outside my house. They’re trying to get in.”
“Ma’am, are you alone?”
Grace’s voice broke then. “Yes.”
She wished someone was with her. She wishedLukewas with her.
“Okay,” the dispatcher said calmly. “Officers are on the way.”
Grace pressed her forehead to the edge of the couch and closed her eyes.
She thought of locked doors. Of staying calm. Of doing exactly what she’d been taught to do.
She was shaking now, adrenaline finally flooding her system, but she stayed quiet. Stayed still. Listened to the dispatcher’s voice anchor her to the present.
She wasn’t helpless.
