The couch creaks as I shift slightly.
My stomach drops into my ass.
There’s no way I can sit here all night in silence. My brain would absolutely invent horrors just to fill the space. I watch way too many murder documentaries for my own good.
Just as I start convincing myself it’s all in my head, something thuds against my office door. I snap upright, eyes locked on it. “Hello?”
I don’t hear anyone move or say anything.
Yeah, probably just my brain trying to scare the shit out of me.
I ease back down onto the couch, trying to tell myself I’m fine. Then three sharp knocks bang against the door. I shoot back up, scooting to the edge of the couch. “Who’s there?”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Fuck this.
“Listen, motherfucker,” I shout. “I have a taser, and I know how to use it.”
That’s a lie. I’ve never even read the instructions. I have zero clue how to actually use it.
It’s silent again.
It takes everything I have just to pull myself off the couch and move over to the blinds. I take a shaky breath, then lean forward, peering through them.
There’s nothing.
The whole area is empty. Just like before.
I step away from the window, edging back toward the sofa.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The door rattles on its hinges, and I jolt, stumbling toward the back of the room. My eyes land on my purse, sitting just a few feet away. I inch toward it, careful not to make a sound. For all I fucking know, whoever’s out there could break the door down at any second.
I unzip it quickly and pull out my taser, holding it in front of me to possibly fight off whatever’s coming.
I’m going to die here.
I’m too young to die.
And here, of all places? God, I hate this fucking job. I should’ve just moved back home and worked in my dad’s office. Anything would’ve been better than this.
I don’t even know how long I’ve been standing before my legs start to ache. Slowly, I sink to the floor, leaning against the small shelf beside me. My eyes stay trained on the door.. at least until they start to flutter shut against my will. With all the extra unpaid hours I’ve been putting in, I guess I didn’t realize just how tired I actually was.
Clutching the taser in my hands gives me a tiny sense of safety. And slowly, but surely, I succumb to exhaustion.
2
Victoria
CRASH.
The sound of glass shattering jolts me awake. Tiny shards rain down onto my legs as I scramble to find the source. My eyes lock on the office windows by the door, and my stomach drops. A tall man is standing there, where the glass used to be.
I try to scream, fumbling with the taser, but I can’t figure out where the ON button is. I should’ve read the fucking instructions.
The masked man steps inside, heading straight for me as I panic, trying to get the damn thing to work.
