Chapter4

A Dangerous Past, A New

As I walked up the path toward my front door, my feet dragged with each step, fatigued after a hard day. It was a calm evening, the type I had grown used to calm, steady. I was prepared to spend a few hours ignoring the outside world while curled up on my sofa with a cup of tea.

However, I halted as I got to my front door.

There was a problem.

Initially, I was unable to identify it. Even though the evening had seemed so typical and usual, something abruptly changed. I felt a weird shiver and went for my keys out of reflex. As I quickly glanced around the yard, I didn't notice anything unusual.

I took a measured stride forward. The door stood open a little.

I blinked. That was incorrect.

When I left this morning, I made sure to lock the door. Habitually, after years of living alone, I always made sure of it. I pulled the door wide enough to see inside, but my breath caught in my throat. My living room was lighted by the low light from the hallway, and everything seemed just as I had left it. Nearly.

A picture frame was lying face down on the floor. I scowled. Leaving it there is not something I recall doing.

My gut clenched as I entered.

"Max? Lucas?My voice seemed too loud in the silence as I called. However, nobody responded. The silence in the home seemed uncanny. Something about the environment made my skin crawl, even though I knew the boys were spending the evening with my mother, who comes every week to give me some much-needed breathing room.

The home seemed too quiet, almost too silent.

I stepped inside farther and shut the door. I felt a rush of anxiety come over me as soon as it snapped shut. It seemed to... away. I quickly went over every possibility why the door may have been open. Perhaps I hadn't locked it. Although the air outside hadn't been strong enough for that, it's possible that the wind had forced it open.

However, the picture frame? The inconspicuous little clue that things wasn't quite right?

My heart began to race. My instincts told me that this was no accident, and I had learnt to believe them. The type of fear I hadn't had in years was still growing in the pit of my stomach. Not since... Not since everything changed, anyhow.

I gingerly made my way through the house, inspecting the windows, the back door, and the other locations where I usually lock up. Everything seemed to be typical. But I couldn't get the sensation that something wasn't quite right.

I froze as I got to the kitchen.

The window above the sink was slightly open, allowing a little breeze to enter. The chilly air felt good on my skin, and I just looked out the window for a while, my thoughts racing.

That window wasn't opened by me.

Before I left, I always made sure it was closed. I vividly recalled making sure all the windows were locked. I even recalled using a chain lock to secure the rear door.

The window was open, but why?

My thoughts was racing, and I started to get cold perspiration on the back of my neck. I could have forgotten. Perhaps my fatigue was catching up with me and tricking my brain. However, a little voice inside of me resisted accepting that justification.

I was locked up.

And now... The window was open.

Instinctively, I grabbed my phone and took it out of my pocket to see if there were any messages. Nothing fresh. No messages, no missed calls.

Aside from one.

One missed call.

I didn't know the area code, and the number seemed strange. My finger was shaking, and my thumb was hovering over the screen.

Shall I give it another call?

I looked at the window, the glass break still seeming too planned, too purposeful. I felt uneasy about the call for some reason. All of my instincts begged me not to pick up, but I was unable to explain it. Not to respond to the uncertainty.

I had no faith in it. Tonight, I had no faith in anything.

I put my phone into my pocket after locking it.

As an alternative, I approached the window and cautiously closed it. I received the unshakeable impression that someone had been inside. That someone had been waiting for me to get home, watching me through that window.

My heart was pounding faster than ever as I turned to face the hallway when my phone rang once again.

I didn't answer.

However, the number remained the same.

The air was thick with expectancy, and I could feel the weight of the call bearing down on me. Who was it? What was the reason for their call?

Desperate for some breathing room, I let my phone fall on the counter, but it buzzed once more.

Then again.

A familiar uneasiness crept up my back. There was no coincidence here. This wasn't simply a phone scam or an incorrect number.

They were watching me.

And the person out there was becoming nearer.

I sighed in exasperation and combed through my hair. I was unable to remain in the home. Not with the weird items out of place, not with the phone ringing nonstop, and not with this sensation that keeps coming back to me.

The cold evening air greeted my face as I went outside after grabbing my coat from the rack near the entrance. I wanted to declutter my mind and escape the strain that was starting to suffocate me.

As I moved down the driveway, the pavement was covered in lengthy shadows from the streetlamps. The suburban neighborhood's silence was oppressive. Tonight, it simply made the dread that gripped me like a second skin more, even though it should have been reassuring.

Once again, the phone buzzed.

Against my better judgment, I picked it up, but there was no voice or message on the other end. The sound of labored breathing alone.

With my pulse thumping in my chest, I snatched the phone away from my ear.

This was not an error. There was no coincidence here. The person who called me was aware of something. They were aware of my residence.

They were hunting me.

I returned my attention to the window. Had there been an outside observer? Or were they inside the home when I got there?

The idea I didn't want to consider that someone had visited my home was whispered by a voice in the back of my mind. My life had included them. They had been observing me. for the ideal opportunity to reveal themselves.

As I began to walk back to my home, a nagging worry coiled in my breast.

However, my blood became cold when I arrived to the front door.

The door... was accessible.

This time, it's not simply ajar. It was open.

I paused for a moment as panic swept through me. My heart pounded in my chest as my thoughts went blank.

Was it too late?

I took a hesitant step forward, gasping for air.

Then I heard it. There was a little noise, as if someone was moving within the home.

I wasn't alone myself.

I became suddenly and horribly clear-headed: I had no clue who was inside.

And there was no way for me to know whether I would ever escape.

Strange, frightening events and an enigmatic caller heighten the tension in this chapter, setting up a horrific cliffhanger that puts Emma in danger.