You hold your breath. You’re sure you heard something; a door opening or a floor board creaking. But now only silence. You must have imagined it. You could check. But your bedroom feels safe and the thought of leaving it makes your heart hammer.
The creak of a board: you’re sure this time. The wind rattles the windows and a tree scratches on the glass with willowy fingers, looking for a way in.
You try turning on a lamp, but it only makes the shadows dance and gives you goosebumps. There is safety in the darkness, hidden under the covers like when you were a child.
But you are not safe. Denying me will not stop me. I will push the door open slowly and you will barely have time to scream before your blood is dripping off the mattress and pooling on the hardwood.