DEMI
My heart skids the moment I shut the door behind me. Something in the air feels very wrong. It is the kind of prickling awareness that someone unknown is breathing the same air you are while standing somewhere beyond the edge of your vision.
I freeze by the door, listening while my eyes adjust to the dimness. Outside, the night wind brushes against the trees surrounding the cottage, The old wooden beams creak softly as the house settles.
Then I hear it again; a faint sound from upstairs. My heart stutters and every muscle in my body tightens at once. Mentally, I tell myself not to panic. It could be the wind. Old houses make noises all the time. Pipes can shift. Floorboards do expand and animals crawl through the walls.
Except the sound comes again, clearer. It's a dull scrape, like someone moving something heavy. My stomach drops. That is most definitely not an animal; that's a human intruder!
