Burn it
The quiet of the night wrapped around us like a warm blanket, and for the first time that day, I felt at peace or at least I thought I did.
Carmen had finally settled down, no longer plotting Harold's untimely demise, and the soft rhythm of her breathing next to me was almost lulling me to sleep.
Almost.
Because no sooner had my eyes fluttered closed than I heard it a soft scrape, like something shifting against wood.
My body tensed immediately. Surely that was just my imagination, right? Or maybe the wind had knocked something over. Yes, that made sense. The wind. Inside our apartment. Completely logical.
I opened one eye, my gaze darting around the room. Nothing seemed out of place. Carmen was still lying beside me, one arm draped lazily over her face as if she didn't have a care in the world. I envied her ability to switch off so effortlessly.
And then I heard it again.
Scrape.