Yet Another Incident
After yet another police report taken in my name, I head home, falling asleep the moment I flop onto my couch. It's only ten by then, yet feels so much later in the night.
A series of pounding knocks against my door wakes me up.
Disoriented and groggy, I roll off the couch, taking a quick gander at my phone. It's only one in the morning.
Stumbling to the front door, I rub the sleep from my eyes and peer through the peephole.
Nothing.
The hallway stands empty, bathed in the sickly glow of fluorescent lights. But it shouldn't be empty. Someone was just banging on my door.
Sleepiness evaporates, replaced by a surge of adrenaline. I hold my breath, straining to hear any sound beyond the door.
A shadow flickers at the edge of my vision. I blink, certain I've imagined it. But no—a figure clad in black steps into view, their face obscured. My pulse pounds in my ears as I backpedal, fumbling for my phone.