But this one—this one doesn’t belong.
I jerk to my feet, the bed creaking beneath me. My pulse pounds in my ears as I look around the room like I expect someone to be standing there.
Watching.
Nothing.
I move fast now, stepping back into the main room, scanning every corner. My gaze flicks to the windows, half-expecting to see someone standing just beyond the glass.
Nothing.
My chest rises and falls too quickly.
Think.
Think.
I force myself to go still.
The camera.
I bring it up again, staring at the image.
Someone was close.
Close enough to capture this.
Close enough to see me.
Close enough to—a sound cuts through the silence.
A creak outside. My head snaps toward the door. Every muscle in my body locks.
Another creak.
Slow and deliberate. Like someone stepping onto the porch.
My breath catches in my throat.
“Who’s there?” I call, louder than I feel.
Silence. Then, a soft thud right outside the door.
I don’t move.
I can’t.
My gaze is locked on the handle, waiting for it to turn.
It doesn’t.
Seconds stretch. Twist. Snap.
Nothing happens.
Finally, slowly, I force my feet to move.
One step.
