Page 98 of Two Sides of Sin

A dead, terrifying silence fell over the line.

I could hear his breathing change.

“Are your doors locked?” he asked, his voice dropping to a unnervingly calm, whisper that made the hair on my arms stand up.

“Yes,” I rushed out. “I locked the deadbolt. I locked the windows, the sliding glass door, I pulled all the curtains shut⁠—”

Right as the words left my mouth,

The television screen suddenly went black.

The lamps in the living room died. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen cut out. The heavy, suffocating darkness of the apartment swallowed me whole, broken only by the frantic hammering of the rain against the roof.

I gasped, a sharp, terrified sound ripping out of my throat as the silence crashed down around me. “Julian, my power went out!”

“I’m here,” his low, gravelly voice vibrated through the speaker, a sudden anchor in the pitch-black room. “I’ve got you. It’s just the power sage. The storm probably knocked a line down somewhere. Try not to freak out.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, my chest heaving. My anxiety was a physical weight, squeezing the air out of my lungs with every thought. I pulled my knees tightly against my chest, my wide eyes and blind in the dark. “Julian, I’m scared. What if it wasn’t the storm?”

“Hey. Listen to my voice,” he commanded softly, the certainty in his tone forcing me to take a shaky breath. “You locked the doors. You are safe. Do you have a flashlight? A candle?”

“Um… yes. Candles,” I stammered, my grip on the phone painfully tight. “In the kitchen drawer.”

“Okay. Go get one. Keep me on the phone,” he instructed.

I slowly pushed the blanket off my lap, my bare feet hitting the freezing hardwood floor. I held my phone tightly against my ear, using my free hand to blindly feel my way along the back of the sofa. The apartment felt different in the dark. It felt massive. It felt hostile.

I tiptoed to the kitchen, my breathing shallow and fast. I reached the edge of the kitchen counter, my fingers brushing against the cold granite as I guided myself to the drawers.

And then, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Creak.

The sound was undeniable in the silent apartment. It came from the narrow, internal staircase just off the kitchen that led up to my loft bedroom.

I froze, my hand hovering over the drawer. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Creak.

It was a slow, deliberate footstep. Someone was walking down the stairs.

I stopped breathing entirely. I couldn’t see a single thing, but the heavy, paralysing sensation of being hunted hit me. I could feel the presence of someone radiating off that eerily dark staircase. It was a cold, suffocating energy that made every instinct in my body roar to life.

“Julian,” I breathed, my voice so faint it was barely a vibration of air. “I think someone is in here.”

The steady, calming presence on the other end of the line instantly vanished, replaced by a explosive panic.

“Just breathe, you’re safe, nobody is there,” he tried reassuring me.

Creak. Creak.

The footsteps were moving faster now. Calculated and heavy. Descending the last few steps.

I panicked. I spun around in the dark, my foot catching the edge of the kitchen rug. My shoulder took the brunt of the impact as I stumbled, a sharp cry catching in my throat. The phone hit the floor with a sickening smack, the screen shattered as it slid away from me. I scrambled backwards, my wide, blind eyes locked on the bottom of the staircase as I heard the final footstep hit the landing.

They were standing right there. Just feet away from me.

I opened my mouth to scream⁠—