blacked out

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The continuous staccato sounded like nails hammered into a brick wall, and made for the perfect alarm. She could never sleep through that, which was the point. She scowled, and reached for the phone.

"Shut up," she cursed, and silenced the alarm.

Her voice was sweet like the haunting melody of a hundred year old violin echoing in an empty hall. Her favourite music. Made her smile.

The phone was floating over her face as she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw wasn't the time, but the notification of an email arrived a minute ago. She opened the email.

——

Sasha,

Danger.

Hide. Cupboard in the hallway.

6:27

——

She didn't understand. Read again. Slower and more carefully.

Her name was Sasha. There was a cupboard in the hallway. Then, could the rest be true too? Was she in danger?

She started to feel frightened.

What did 6:27 mean? The time? But that made no sense. It was already 7 now.

She finally saw the time. 6:23. And froze.

That was impossible. She set the alarm for 7 every morning. Why would the alarm go off earlier? Could it be that whoever sent the email, was in her phone, changing the alarm? Could he be in the house too? Was that how he knew so much?

She expanded the header, saw that the sender and the recipient were both her, and knew she was right. He was in her phone, writing to her from her account. Her suspicions were confirmed.

Fear was paralysing. Fear could also be a shot of adrenaline. She held on to the phone tightly, as she leaped off the bed, ran out her room and to the cupboard in the middle of the hallway, and hid inside.

She turned her phone silent, and saw the time. 6:26.

The phone vibrated just then. You've got mail, it was screaming.

——

Shush now.

Just do as I say.

——

6:27.

She leaned against the back of the cupboard, draping herself with the shadows. Her breathing was long and slow and quiet. She became one with the wood of the cupboard, as she heard the soft footsteps in the hallway.

Seconds later, another email arrived.

——

Count to ten. Tiptoe to your parents' bedroom. Hide under the bed.

——

She wasn't sure, but counted to ten at her usual speed. Slowly pushed the cupboard open. Peered at both sides carefully, and tiptoed to her parents' bedroom.

She felt exposed under the bed. The confines of the cupboard were much warmer.

She heard nothing but silence. But she could feel them. They were in the house, searching for her. She knew she missed them, as she ran over here. She knew, she was safe, for now.

She didn't know how long or short it was when the next email arrived.

——

Count to five.

Run down. To the kitchen.

——

Five. Four.

She slid out from under the bed.

Three. Two.

She pushed herself up to her knees, ready to set off.

One.

She set off. Out the door, down the hallway, and down the stairs. Turning sharply to the right at the bottom, and racing off to the kitchen. She fell to the ground in a corner, gasping.

She ran everyday, too much to be tired out by the short dash from her parents' bedroom to the kitchen. Today, unfortunately, wasn't normal. Under the tremendous pressure, she was faster than ever, and also spent more than ever. No amount of exercising could have prepared her for the dash just now.

She welcomed the new email with open arms.

——

Stay. Don't move.

Police will be here soon.

You're safe.

——

She nodded, as if looking into the face her protector. She curled up in the corner, and dropped her phone.

**

The patrol car rolled to a stop in front of the villa with nothing distinguishing it from the neighbouring villas. The two officers stepped out, and immediately noted the quiet.

"Sure this is the place," the one on the right asked.

He was neither too young nor too old, wore the blue uniform well, and had an air of confidence about him. It was that very demeanour that revealed his experience, or lack of.

"Yeah, sure," the other officer answered.

She was older, and senior. She was taller, thinner, wore the uniform better, and outranked her partner. She beat him in every possible way.

"I don't see or hear anything," the first officer said, even as he followed procedure and headed toward the door.

They rang the bell. Got no answer. Banged the door, which swung open. The officers pulled out their guns, identified themselves and walked in. They searched the house and found nothing. Except for the phone on the kitchen floor.

They reported to the station, requesting for support. They did nothing as they waited.

The waiting was always the hardest. But it was all their boundaries allowed. Another team of officers arrived first. Followed by the forensics team, which in this case just a pair. Last to arrive were the detectives. Handing the case over to the detectives, the officers returned to their patrolling duty.