clutching my keys, as if I might use them to poke someone’s eye out, I went through the rest of the house, flipping on lights. The living room, the kitchen, and then upstairs to flip on the hallway light, my bedroom, and even the bathroom. The only room I left alone was Evie’s room. The rest of the house was shining like a beacon.
Then I went back downstairs to double-check that I’d locked the front door. I closed the kitchen blinds and the living room curtains, just in case. When I was satisfied that I was as secure as I could be, I slunk up to my room and pulled down the blinds there too. I wasn’t normally easy to freak out, and I’d had some brushes with unsavoury characters before—hard not to when you hung out in the crowd I did. There was just something about that guy I’d seen, something that scared the holy hell out of me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that scared. Usually, I loved being frightened—horror movies, crazy rollercoasters and breaking into abandoned buildings were all some of my favourite pastimes. This was different. I had finally stopped shaking by the time I dumped my bag on the floor, my keys on my dresser, and sat down on my bed. I’d checked Evie’s room—she wasn’t in, so I was assuming she was staying with James.
I bent over to unzip my boots and yanked them off, tucking them under my bed. I stood up and went to look in the mirror on my dresser. My hair was a bit of a mess, my eyeliner slightly smudged, and my green eyes looked a little wild, but I was okay. Taking a deep breath, I glanced around my room to make sure nothing had been moved or stolen. The band posters tacked up on my red walls were undisturbed, the black spread on my bed was only wrinkled from me sitting on it, the black wood dresser and wardrobe were unharmed. Even my TV and stereo perched on top of the low bookcase, crammed with paranormal romance books and horror movie DVDs, were fine.
I relaxed. I ran a hand through my hair and wandered into the hallway to grab a couple of towels from the laundry cupboard, then headed to the bathroom. I locked the door behind me out of habit, even though there was nobody in the house. I laid out one of the towels on the floor around the bath and sat the other on the closed lid of the toilet. The bathroom was always a little cold, so I turned on the shower and let the room start to fill with warm steam before undressing.
After my shower, I crawled into bed and fell asleep quickly, tumbling headlong into a series of bizarre dreams, one of which involved a talking duck with a Russian accent and a machine gun. I have no idea what that was about. Maybe my brain was telling me I had a secret, deep-rooted fear of ducks that I wasn’t aware of.
Anyway, after the evil duck dream, my mind settled into something a bit more normal.
I was standing in my room with the light off, staring out the window into the front garden. The street was dark, none of the streetlamps on, and the only light spilled from a large, grey moon. I looked down, and I could see a shadow in the garden. There was a person, looking up at me from the grass, but oddly, I wasn’t frightened.
The floor in the hallway creaked, and I glanced toward my bedroom door, but the door was closed. I waited for another creak, but the house was silent. I turned back to the window and looked down at the garden, but the mysterious shadow was gone. I felt an obscure sense of disappointment. The hallway floor creaked again, and when I turned, I saw my bedroom door was wide open.
I gasped, but a hand came over my mouth, muffling it. I started to thrash, but my captor easily held tight. He turned me round to face him, and heather-grey eyes shone in the darkness. A wave of recognition passed over me, but I couldn’t place it.
My captor leaned close, and I felt his breath against my neck as he whispered, “Say yes.”
His other hand snaked around my waist, holding me tight against his chest. Slowly, he lowered