Page 46 of Just Tonight

As she opened the refrigerator, looking at the sparse but healthy options of salads, luncheon meats and diet sodas that were stacked in there, her heart nearly stopped.

From behind her came a blare of static. It was the television. It had turned itself on – not just on, but up. It was blaring at full volume, and the shock of the noise had scared her half to death. What was going on in this house tonight? It was really disturbing. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought there was a poltergeist or something on the loose.

She didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits, but right now, she thought she might just be open to changing her mind.

Trembling, now feeling unnerved and wishing she didn’t live alone or that she at least had a pet with her – her two elderly dogs had both reached the end of their lives a month ago and she hadn’t felt ready to replace the beloved pets yet – she switched the television off.

“Behave yourself now,” she told it sternly, but hearing the wobble in her voice. These electrics were seriously all over the place. Despite a crazy busy day tomorrow at the clinic, she was going to have to find the time to contact the smart home system provider – she had bought the house a year ago with the infrastructure in place, and had simply transferred everything over to a new account, so she wasn’t even sure now who to get hold of. At any rate, she’d have to look it up and find them and see if they could fix things.

And then, she froze as the lights flickered again. Her gaze swung to the big plate glass window, appalled. She’d just realized that the living room blinds were up. She’d closed them before she left. She always closed them. Never, ever, did she like pottering around in a room that overlooked the street, with people watching. She had a thing about her privacy.

This was more than just malfunctioning. She felt sure of it. This was – it was like somebody was targeting her.

Don’t mess around, Sylvia screamed inwardly. Don’t mess around. Take action!

And yet, as she shut off the television, there was a part of her mind that was refusing to accept this was true, that it couldn't possibly be so bad. That she was being a hysterical woman who was having a panic attack just because a couple of things were going awry with her home's control system. She'd never wanted to be that person. She should just go to the keypad, calmly reset the system, and see if it worked.

But then, she heard a click. It was a click she knew well. One of the things she was blessed with was exceptionally good hearing. She needed spectacles to read, but her ears were like a bat's, as they always joked at the clinic.

She knew that click, she knew what it meant. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind what that sound was.

It was the front door, separating from its lock, and opening, the exact way it had done a few minutes earlier when she walked inside.

Terror rushed through her, so powerful that it felt paralyzing. It was exactly as if she’d been caught in a pair of headlights, feeling trapped, as if the inevitable was going to happen and there was nothing she could do but freeze.

Then, again, her brain clamored for her attention, wrenching her out of her paralysis.

“You’ve been through training on what to do if there’s an armed robbery at the clinic, if people break in to try to steal money or veterinary drugs while you’re there. Remember your protocol! Grab your phone. Scream for help. And get to safety.”

Grabbing her phone was impossible because it was doing duty as a flashlight in the kitchen. Screaming was possible, theoretically, but as she let out the cry, she was horrified by how weak and thready it was. And already, she was running. She was flying across the living room, knowing she had to get past the hallway and up the stairs, to the home's second floor, to be able to lock herself in, and barricade the door, and lean out of a window, and scream and scream.

But the door was already swinging wide, and there was no time to get upstairs. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway, dark and threatening, moving toward her with a speedy and ferocious intent.

“He’s done this before!” she thought, and her mind veered back to those murders she’d heard about, mentioned by clients at the clinic, in different parts of town. He was not here to rob, he was here to kill. And there was no way she was going to make it upstairs. Only one place she could go, and that was the tiny guest cloakroom at the foot of the stairs.

She wrenched the door open, leaped in, twisted around, slammed it, and with hands shaking so badly that the latch and key were rattling, she managed to turn the key.

It wouldn’t help her for long, that she knew. This door was flimsy. With her heart accelerating, she realized she was in the worst possible place to scream. Hidden away under the stairs, with only an extractor fan in lieu of a window, this little room was practically soundproofed. Nobody would hear her.

A moment later, he crashed against the door, so hard it shook, and now, she did scream, a high, terrified yell, giving it everything she had, as loud as she could.

He laughed. As she drew breath to scream again, she heard it. It was a low, breathy sound, and she had never heard anything so evil in all her life.

"You're mine now," he whispered. "I'm coming in to get you. I'm going to break this door down, and you're not going to stop me. Scream all you like. I love the sound." His breathy giggle was the scariest thing she'd ever heard. "I love it," he said.

"You're not going to get me," she said. Her voice was high and terrified, and there wasn't a trace of defiance audible in the words. But she was going to fight for as long as she could. Even though she knew it was futile, she braced her legs against the toilet base and her shoulders against the door, feeling the impact crash through her body as he tackled the door again.

It splintered, and in horror, she realized that the flimsy door was literally going to split in two if he continued his assault on it.

She let out another scream, loud, shrill, praying that somehow, somebody could hear.

Another crash saw a fist-sized hole appear in the door. He could get through it, she thought, terror now surging again. He could get through it, and one more blow like that would mean he would.

And then, abruptly, the lights went out.

The only thing she could hear was her own ragged breathing and his on the other side of the shattering door.

She didn't know how it had happened or how he could have done it right then. But now, the house was plunged into utter darkness.

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