My toes feel numb in my stilettos as I try to outrun the car, the sound of the engine revving making my whole body tremble. I can see my house’s gates in the distance, and by the time I reach them, stumbling down the path, I can hardly breathe. I’m hyperventilating. As I push the keycode into the pad and rush through, I hear the car engine switch off.
I unlock the front door and dive inside, slamming it shut, sliding both bolts across.
I back away from the door like it’s a bomb about to go off, trying to catch my breath but finding it hard to get air in. As I watch, there’s a distant movement behind the blurry panes of the door.
They can’t get through the gates. They can’t get through the gates.
There’s an angry beep of the keypad, before a figure approaches the door, and the distorted smile and pale skin of the mask come into view. I scream, backing farther down the hallway.
“Mom! Dad!” I yell, sobbing as I watch the door.
No one answers. Not that I should be surprised. They’re usually at the hospital when I get home at this time.
Hardly ever home at all.
“Someone, help… please.” I whisper the last part, voice breaking.
Again, no answer.
I watch as the figure stands there, watching me. Then I watch as the mail slot opens, heart rattling my rib cage as a gloved hand pushes an envelope in. It falls to the ground as the metal flap shuts.
I don’t move.
After a few moments, the figure starts to back away, a single black line that thins as it gets farther and farther in the distance.
I stand in silence for a few minutes, my tears drying up, fingers still shaking as I try to gather myself and work out what to do.
I move toward the door slowly, snatching the envelope up and opening it. It is filled with Polaroid shots.
The first picture is of my house from inside the gates…
The next is a zoomed-in photo of me through the window as I stand in my bedroom.
The next is of me again, tugging my shirt off.
The next, I’m in my underwear, the photo taken through the gap in my curtains…
I shakily pick up the next Polaroid.
I’m in a towel, just out of the shower this time.
I already know what’s coming.
I let out a breath as I pick up the final photo.
No photo. Just writing.
All will be revealed… I’m ready to have a ball, are you?—Aces
This isn’t just texts and high school pranks.
This is now all of my deepest secrets.
This is my house. My home. Where I thought I was safe.
Aces must have gotten my address from the central administration system. But I have no idea how they got through the gate. I look around my empty foyer.
I move toward the stairs.
