Page 137 of Reckless

Fast.

Heavy.

Somewhere outside.

Running.

I can’t tell if they’re coming toward the building or away from it, and that uncertainty twists something deep in my stomach until I think I’m going to be sick.

“I…” My throat closes so hard the word barely makes it out. “Ghost, I think someone’s here.”

The line goes silent. Not disconnected. Silent.

I can still hear him breathing, rough and uneven through the speaker, and for one stupid, desperate second, I cling to it because as long as I can hear him, I’m not doing this alone.

Then even that disappears.

“G-Ghost?” My voice cracks around his name.

Nothing.

The knot in my chest twists so violently it steals what little air I’d managed to drag into my lungs.

“Ghost?” I whisper again, tears spilling before I even realize they’re there. “Please…”

Please answer me.

Please tell me I’m imagining this.

Please tell me I’m being ridiculous.

A floorboard groans, and every thought in my head vanishes. The sound doesn’t come from downstairs, but from inside my bedroom. Too close.

My entire body seizes. I stop breathing, every muscle pulled so tight it hurts, my ears straining against the deafening thud of my own heartbeat.

Another footstep steps closer to the closet. Slow enough that whoever is out there isn’t searching. They already know where they’re going, and cold terror washes over me.

Jesus, they’re in my bedroom.

The tiny linen closet suddenly feels as if it’s shrinking around me, the walls pressing closer with every frantic breath I can’t seem to quiet. My chest burns from trying not to make a sound, but my breathing won’t listen. It’s too loud.

God, they have to be able to hear it.

The footsteps stop. Silence crashes over the room so completely it makes my ears ring, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Please walk away.

Please…

The soft click of the bedroom door handle steals the prayer from my mouth.

No.

My fingers clamp tighter around the kitchen knife until the plastic digs painfully into my palm. Both hands come up in front of me, shaking so violently that the blade trembles with them, and a sick, helpless thought tears through me.

If that door opens, I don’t know if I can do this.

Suddenly, the door swings open. “Jesus Christ!”