Chapter One

Rachel switched on the lamp and thought of the mantra she had made when she first moved in. Bolt the front door, check the kitchen and the bathroom windows, and check the lock on the backdoor before bed.

Silly Gilly it's just the wind. But she didn't quite believe it was, at least not entirely. Although the wind outside sounded like a large pack of savage dogs howling in heat, it was not the source of her discomfort. There had been a sound beneath all that howling no different from the thud of a car door closing, only it was closer, as if from inside, just beyond her bedroom.

She was staring at the door with wide crazy eyes while white knuckling the bed sheet, relieved there was no peephole and almost certain she wasn't alone. She didn't recognize how badly she was trying not to breathe until an idea came across her mind in full bloom. Her feet touched down on the red carpet as if it had been riddled with broken glass and looking like a professional thief, she slid open the drawer on the nightstand. Inside were the usual suspects: her golden house key, her stripped up leather wallet, her black earphones twisted up into a bundle in the corner, an unopened box of white candles sitting next to a box of used matches, a green USB Drive, and a pair of glasses still in its plastic. "Fuck a duck," she mouthed and felt her hand almost slam the drawer when she pushed it back in place. Just then an embarrassing thought came careening across her mind and feeling like a fool she fished her cellphone from her pajama pocket. Her thumb touched the final digit for the emergency services when another thought careened in its place. Standing there, in the glow of the orange lamplight, she once again felt like that helpless little girl, the one who got pushed down the stairs by buck toothed Becky while she was on her way to the library. No one believed Becky could have done something so heinous, then again, no one seemed to know what Becky was really capable of. She remembered spending three weeks at home nursing a twisted ankle and a neck injury and found herself fuming at the thought of her parents supervising, no, treating her as if she were a broken doll that needed fixing. She pocketed the phone, picked up her house key and crossed to the door on her toes. She turned the knob as if it were covered in slime and told herself. Aim for his eyes.

The door inched open with a creak that shot nervous tendrils across her back, reminding her the place had been on the market for quite some time, and no doubt had more than a few unsavory secrets left to discover. With the orange lamplight now invading the passage, she crept by the hall wall begging to be decorated by at least a few family photos. She paused by the shadow stained bathroom to her right, now a shade lighter from what traces of lamplight that managed to make it inside. She thought her pink comb still sitting on the sink untouched, resembled a magic wand in the shade and smiled a goofy grin. The shower curtain, still open, revealed an empty moonlit bathtub and she felt relieved she wasn't one of those people who closed their shower curtains after a bath and picked up her comb. Tracing her thumb over the sharp tail end she pocketed the golden house key, satisfied. Her relief went as quickly as it had manifested as once again she set her mind on the task at hand.

She walked a few inches further and stopped at the entrance to the living room on her left. The utility of a light switch for the passage had never been more obvious as orange light seemed to end just behind her. It was as if the darkness emanating from the living room had an overpowering aura of its own. She felt her hands go stiff as she raised the comb like a knife with the tail end jutting from between her fists. Her legs however were shaking like a trembling pup, and it seemed her whole body was waiting, hoping really, for a squeaking rat or the explicable meow of a stray that had somehow found its way inside, but only the howling from outside remained.

Aim for his eyes.

Whoever it was, there was no place to hide, the house didn't provide such luxuries, so when she dashed into the living room space that also gave a good enough view of the kitchen area, she expected to see some silhouette standing or crouching down somewhere. Instead the only silhouettes belonged to the coffee table, the couch positioned under the living room window, the white drapes behind the couch, and the kitchen stove standing across from the humming refrigerator. She suspected the culprit might be hiding in there and immediately tossed the idea off an imaginary cliff. Her hands dropped to her sides. That was, until the faintest smell wafted its way across her nostrils sending another wave of nervous tendrils, this time, from her crack to the back of her neck and resting somewhere behind her left ear like a warm breath. She felt the unmistakable sensation of her head growing and pulsating at the scent, as if a matchstick had recently been extinguished in her direction. She raised the comb again and listened for something, anything but the howling from outside. This time her hands were shaking as she imagined the sick bastard was in fact watching her from somewhere. Her mind went to the stove but she just as quickly remembered the burners had not been used since Wednesday morning and today was Sunday.

Cigarette, The little voice in her head nearly had her stabbing at the air.

"I called the police!" she barked. "Come out!"

Her eyes went back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, wondering just exactly where he would be coming from. She could feel her heart racing, and her ragged breathing informed her of how stressful this small ordeal was becoming, but there was nothing, nothing to hear but the howling from outside. The longer she waited for something to happen the more convinced she became that there was no one else inside the whole building but her.

Silly Gilly, you've gone and done it. You've gone mad.

Bit by bit she began to unravel her suspicion that perhaps she was imagining things, but just to be safe and maybe even amuse herself, she opened the refrigerator, and found only the small assortment of goods she had bought a few days prior.

Silly Gilly, if someone was in here you would have seen them by now. Suddenly aware she was halfway holding in her breath again she exhaled. The echo of air escaping her mouth was reassuring and made the whole place feel small and familiar again, despite the lingering uncertainty of the faint smell of smoke. She followed the outlines in the dark and walked by the coffee table and flicked the light switch by the front door. The old globe sparked once and made a strange sizzling sound before an ominous glow of blue light filled the room. For a moment she thought the place looked like one of those walk in aquariums she always saw on TV and cracked another smile. The closed phonebook sitting on the coffee table beside the red plastic bowl of half eaten peanuts added another layer of familiarity and reminded her she needed to do a better job at cleaning up. Out of curiosity she lifted the bowl just beneath her chin and sniffed. Nothing. The stale peanuts were odorless. But did I ever light a match in here? She failed to remember and returned the bowl. In an attempt to set her mind at ease she went by the stove burners and like just like the peanuts there was nothing. She caught a glimpse of the moon bathing the white sand beyond the kitchen window and felt a sudden urge to take a stroll, but decided against it as a hefty yawn escaped her mouth.

Sitting in bed again with the door closed, she came to the conclusion that this was to be expected from living in a strange place, the need for every bump and jerk and crack to be accounted for because every nerve ending was standing at attention, waiting to respond to anything, because everything in a new place felt out of the ordinary. She partly believed her rational, it made sense in her head, the sound she decided had to have been her imagined, but the smell, that faint disembodied smell that just lingered in that spot by the coffee table. Nothing had explained it. She tried remembering if she had ever smelt it before and wounded up remembering her dear uncle instead. Sleep came shortly after.