Allison's POV
"Holy chicke—!" I try to scream, but a clammy hand slaps over my mouth, stifling the sound in my throat. My heart pounds as I thrash against the sheets, panic flooding my veins. Who the hell is in my room? And why does his hand smell like... fish and tomatoes?
"Shhhh..." The stranger hisses, pressing a finger to his lips. My eyes strain against the dim light, barely making out the shadowy figure leaning over me. I don't know him, but somehow, I sense he's not here to kill me. The hand over my mouth, though suffocating, feels more like a warning than a threat.
I nod quickly, signaling I'll stay quiet. He hesitates, his hand still hovering over my lips, scrutinizing me as if gauging whether I'm trustworthy. After an agonizing pause, he releases me. I gulp down air, eyes wide with disbelief.