Page 8 of Trick me. Treat me

Unknown

It’s almost dark, Violet.

My gaze drifts again to the windows, the trees beyond becoming nothing more than silhouettes.

Me

I saw the note. I’m locking them now.

Unknown

Good girl.

My breath catches, the same embarrassing warmth curling low in my stomach.

“Oh, fuck off,” I whisper. Mr. Pickles meows. “Not you.”

I lock my phone and shove it into my pocket, quickly going around the house to check every door, testing them twice for good measure, since my anxiety is a bitch. I drop my bag into a bedroom upstairs, and sort my things out before heading back down.

When I return to the living room, now freshly changed into my pyjamas so I can be comfy, Mr. Pickles has claimed the middle of the couch and I drop beside him. He climbs directly into my lap, purring loudly as I scratch behind his ear. Outside, the last of the daylight has disappeared, the huge windows now turned black. My smile fades. There’s something extremely uncomfortable about having windows this big at night. During the day, they’re beautiful. At night… anyone could see in. And I can’t see out.

Mr. Pickles kneads at my bare thigh like he can feel my anxiety. “Your house is creepy.”

I reach for my phone, seeing that it’s only 5:30 p.m. He needs to be fed in an hour, which means I have time to kill. Maybe I’ll investigate what rich people consider appropriate cat-sitter snacks.

I shift Mr. Pickles from my lap, telling him I’ll be right back when he starts protesting loudly. I only manage two steps when I see something move outside. My entire body goes rigid. Despite every instinct telling me not too, I stare through the windows, trying to see if anything or anyone is there.

“Hello?” Why the fuck did I just say that?

I slowly move closer, cupping my hands around my eyes when I reach the glass to peer out. All I can see is darkness, the decking, and a few close trees. Nothing else. I release the breath trapped in my chest.

“See?” I turn toward Mr. Pickles. “Just my anxious little brain.”

Something taps against the window behind me and I scream. Like, horror movie kind of scream. My entire body whips around, but nothing’s there.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” My hand flies to my chest as I see a freaking branch tapping against the window. “I’m an idiot.”

I burst into laughter, shaking my head at myself. Behind me, Mr. Pickles jumps down from the couch, his collar jingling softly. “Come on. Let’s get food before I give myself a heart attack.”

I turn away from the glass, but Mr. Pickles doesn’t follow. He’s sitting perfectly still, facing the window. “Pickles?”

His ears are pointed slightly forward, amber eyes fixed on something beyond the glass. I look down at him, frowning. “Hey?”

His tail flicks once. Slowly. Then again. I follow his stare past my own reflection. Past the deck. Squinting as I try focus my gaze past the trees. And my blood turns cold. There’s something standing between them. Tall. Motionless. Watching the house. A white face floating in the darkness.

My lungs forget how to work. That’s not a face. It’s a mask. Long. Twisted. A mouth stretched open in a silent scream, cracks running through the white surface like a horror movie mask that’s been used and abused.

I don’t move. I can’t. The figure doesn’t either. It just stands there, dressed entirely in black, watching me through the window. My phone vibrates in my shorts pocket and I nearly sob. My shaking hand reaches for it, flashing up the dreaded unknown number.

One new message sitting on my screen.

Unknown

Trick or treat, Violet?

Chapter Three

Kai