I turn back to my phone in the ring light holder, wondering how he knows, then I remember he probably has cameras all over this place. “I’ll be back in a min.”
“Lillian,” he shouts through the phone.
My heart jolts. It’s the first time he’s used my name.
“Get the phone and get under the bed. He’s breaking into the fucking house.”
I’m frozen to the spot gasping for breath. “Who?”
Sarge is on his phone reeling off my address and a load of codes requesting back up. The sound of glass breaking pierces my ears, and I do what he says, taking the phone from the ring light and my ear pods from the dressing table and squeezing under my bed, shuffling until I’m next to my box of toys.
With trembling fingers, I place the ear pods into my ears. Everything’s muffled. All I hear is the sound of blood rushing through my head.
“Lilly,” his voice comes through my ear pods. “Are you safe?”
Wedged between the floor and the bed slats, I whisper, “Yes.” I hold the phone close to my face. The screen’s black, but it sounds like he’s in a car.
“Stay quiet, concentrate on your breathing. I called it in. The cops are on their way.” His ragged breaths come through my ear pods, matching my own trembles as I gasp for air under the dusty mattress. I should really hoover under here more.
“Breathe, baby. In through the nose, one, two, three, and four.”
I do what he asks, turning my head to the side and trying not to get a mouthful of dust, the hard plastic held tightly in my hand my only comfort. More glass shatters from downstairs and my legs shake.
“Hold your breath for two seconds. One, two, and release through your nose, counting to six.” His voice slips as if he’s choked with emotion. “Fuck,” he says just as I hear noises from the kitchen as if drawers are being emptied.
Russel’s barks continue, and I’m thankful for the familiar sound as if he has my back. Hopefully his owners will notice what’s going on, but the little dog yaps so much it’s like the boy who cried wolf at this point.
“I’m almost there, baby. Stay quiet. Keep doing your breathing. Slow it right down. The police might get there before me. Give me a thumbs up so I know you’re okay.”
I lift my thumb in front of the camera. My brain struggles to think who this could be wanting to break into my place. Taking an ear pod out, I train my ear to more sounds other than sarge’s voice, wondering where he is.
Cupboards and drawers open and close. Whoever it is isn’t making any attempt to be quiet. Ash wouldn’t break in. He knows all he has to do is ask me, and I’d give him whatever I have.
The live goes dead. I lift my phone to my face to see the umbrella of doom twirling as it tries to reconnect. Inhaling another slow trembling breath, a cough escapes as I inhale a lungful of dust.
A creak on the stairs has me holding my breath and covering my mouth with my hand. Sweat coats my skin as my heart tries to escape my chest. My bedroom door squeaks on its hinge.
Dirty trainers move towards the corner of the bed and stop next to the leg Shane fixed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
A black gloved hand lifts the valance sheet, then a skeleton mask peers under the bed. “There you are.” He reaches a hand under the bed, but I’m at the other side. Dropping the valance, he moves around the bed.
I pull the ear pod from my ear and shimmy to the other side, kicking my toy box out of the way, hoping I can get out and make a run for it.
He lifts the valance on the other side of the bed, and I try to shimmy out, but he’s too quick for me. My breath halts as I come face to face with the skeleton print smiling at me like a kids halloween costume, only this man is no child with his stale breath seeping through the fabric as he hovers above me.
“You’re not getting away from me this time.” His body odour catches in my nose.
I stare up at him trying to recall where I’ve heard that voice, but it’s not easy when it’s muffled behind a mask. Everything’s distorted and wrong. I’m used to seeing my shadow, but he’s not him.
My sarge wouldn’t squeeze my throat, cutting off my air supply when I shout no. He wouldn’t hurt me while he tears at my pyjama shorts.
I struggle beneath him with new found adrenaline, but my throat hurts. My body aches and my head is screaming.
“I knew you liked it rough. Dirty fucking whore.” He spreads my legs, holding them down with his knees while he undoes his belt.
Tears stream down my temples. I know I said this was my fantasy, but this feels wrong. This isn’t what I want at all. This isn’t my shadow.
Sirens sound in the distance, getting closer to the property.
