Chapter 13: Scratches on the Window (Lauren POV)

Chapter 13: Scratches on the Window (Lauren POV)

Sophie's scream shattered the silence at 2:47 AM, piercing through the walls of Sarah's house like a blade through paper.
I bolted upright in the guest bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sound wasn't the typical childhood nightmare cry; this was raw terror, the kind of scream that meant real danger. I threw off the covers and stumbled toward the door, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood as footsteps thundered down the hallway.
"Sophie!" Sarah's voice, sharp with maternal fear.
I rushed out of the guest room just as Sarah burst from her bedroom, Tom right behind her in boxers and a rumpled t-shirt. Emma's door cracked open, her small face peering out with wide, frightened eyes.
"Stay in your room, Emma," Tom commanded, his voice steady despite being jarred awake. "We're checking on Sophie."
The little girl's bedroom door stood ajar, spilling yellow light from her nightlight into the hallway. We could hear her sobbing, the kind of breathless, hiccupping cries that came after pure panic.
Sarah reached her first, dropping to her knees beside Sophie's twin bed. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened?"
"The shadow man!" Sophie gasped between sobs, pointing toward her window. "He was scratching at the window! He had long fingers and he was trying to get in!"
My blood turned to ice.
Tom moved past us to the window, pulling back the pink curtains decorated with dancing unicorns. "Sophie, sweetheart, there's nothing out here. Look, the yard is empty."
But Sophie shook her head violently, pressing herself against Sarah's chest. "He was there! He was scratching and scratching, and his eyes were glowing!"
I approached the window slowly, my detective instincts warring with the dread pooling in my stomach. Tom was right; the backyard appeared empty, just Sarah's garden and the neighbor's fence barely visible in the dim glow of the street light.
But when I looked closer at the window itself, my breath caught.
"Tom," I said quietly, running my finger along the glass. "Look at this."
Four parallel scratches ran down the outside of the window, too deep and too precise to be accidental. They started about six feet off the ground and dragged downward in perfect lines, as if something with claws had dragged them slowly down the glass.
Tom frowned, leaning in for a better look. "Those are from the maple tree. The wind must have blown some branches against the window."
"Tree branches don't make marks like this," I said, examining the scratches more closely. "These are too uniform."
"Lauren." Sarah's voice held a warning. She was still holding Sophie, who had quieted to occasional sniffles but kept staring at the window with wide, terrified eyes.
"I'm just saying..."
"You're just seeing things that aren't there," Tom interrupted, his tone patient but firm. "Look, I'll trim the maple branches tomorrow, okay? Problem solved."
I wanted to argue, to point out that the nearest tree branch was at least three feet from the window, but Sarah's pleading look stopped me. Sophie was finally calming down, and the last thing her family needed was me adding to their daughter's fear with talk of supernatural intruders.
"You're right," I said instead, forcing my voice to sound calm. "Probably just the tree."
But as I said it, I caught Sophie's eye. The little girl looked at me with an expression far too knowing for a five-year-old, as if she could tell I was lying.
"Can I sleep with you and Daddy?" Sophie asked Sarah, her voice small.
"Of course, baby." Sarah scooped her up, Sophie's legs wrapping around her waist. "Everything's okay now."
Tom kissed Sophie's forehead. "How about we all get some hot chocolate first? Sometimes that helps with bad dreams."
"It wasn't a dream," Sophie whispered, but she nodded at the hot chocolate offer.
As we made our way downstairs, Emma's door opened wider and she stepped into the hallway in her purple pajamas.
"Is Sophie okay?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"She just had a scary dream," Tom explained. "We're making hot chocolate. Want some?"
Emma nodded eagerly, all thoughts of sleep apparently forgotten at the promise of a middle-of-the-night treat.
In the kitchen, Tom moved efficiently around the space, heating milk on the stove while Sarah settled Sophie at the table. I sat across from them, watching Sophie's face carefully. The child was quiet now, but her eyes kept darting toward the windows.
"Sophie," I said gently, "can you tell me more about what you saw?"
Sarah shot me a sharp look, but I pressed on.
"It was tall," Sophie said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And dark, like smoke, but with shape. It had long arms and long fingers, and when it scratched the window, it made this sound..." She demonstrated, dragging her small fingernails across the wooden table with a harsh scraping noise.
The sound sent chills down my spine because I'd heard it before; in the evidence room, just before I'd seen the shadow figure stealing the Valdez evidence.
"And its eyes?" I asked.
"They glowed yellow, like a cat's eyes at night, but mean. Really, really mean."
Tom set steaming mugs in front of each of us, the rich smell of chocolate filling the kitchen. "Sounds like a nightmare to me, kiddo. Sometimes dreams can feel very real."
"It wasn't a dream!" Sophie's voice rose, tears threatening again. "I was awake! I got up to get water and I saw it outside!"
"Okay, okay," Sarah soothed, pulling Sophie closer. "We believe you saw something scary. But it's gone now, and you're safe with us."
Emma, who had been quietly sipping her hot chocolate, looked up. "I heard scratching too."
The adults all turned to stare at her.
"What?" Tom asked.
"Earlier, before Sophie screamed. I heard something scratching at my window too, but when I looked, I didn't see anything. I thought it was just the wind."
A cold knot formed in my stomach. Emma's room was on the other side of the house from Sophie's, with no connecting tree branches or obvious explanation for similar sounds.
"Emma, are you sure?" Sarah asked.
Emma nodded seriously. "It woke me up, but then it stopped. I was going to tell you in the morning."
Tom ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly less certain about his tree branch theory. "Well, I'll check all the windows tomorrow. Maybe we've got some loose siding or something making noise."
But I could see the doubt creeping into his eyes. Two children, two different windows, similar sounds. Even the most skeptical parent would start to question coincidence at that point.
"Maybe we should call the police," Sarah suggested. "If someone was prowling around the house..."
"And tell them what?" Tom asked. "That our five-year-old saw a shadow man with glowing eyes? They'll think we're crazy."
This was my fault. Whatever had been at Sophie's window, it was connected to me, to the case, to the supernatural forces I'd somehow attracted. I'd brought my nightmare world into my sister's safe haven, endangering the people I loved most.
"I should go," I said abruptly, standing from the table.
"Lauren, no," Sarah protested. "It's the middle of the night."
"I need to go back to my apartment. I need to... I have things to figure out."
"Aunt Lauren," Sophie said softly. "Are you leaving because of the shadow man?"
This child, barely out of toddlerhood, had somehow intuited the connection between my presence and the supernatural threat that had invaded her home.
"No, sweetheart. I'm leaving because I have work to do."
But Sophie's knowing look told me she wasn't buying it, any more than I was.
"Stay until morning," Tom said, his earlier skepticism replaced by concern. "We'll all feel better in the daylight."
"Tom's right," Sarah agreed. "Besides, where are you going to go at three in the morning?"
I wanted to argue, to insist that distance would keep them safer, but the truth was I had nowhere else to go. My apartment felt contaminated now, tainted by the supernatural forces circling my life. And despite everything, Sarah's house still felt like the closest thing to sanctuary I had.
"Okay," I said finally. 
We finished our hot chocolate in relative quiet, the girls gradually succumbing to the warm milk and late hour. Tom carried Emma back to her room while Sarah tucked Sophie into the master bedroom.
"She can sleep between us," Sarah explained when I raised an eyebrow. "Just for tonight."
I nodded, understanding completely. If something had threatened my child, I wouldn't let her out of my sight either.
Back in the guest room, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared out my own window. The backyard looked innocent enough—just suburban lawn and garden beds, the kind of space where the biggest danger should be stepping on a sprinkler head.
But I could feel eyes on me, watching from the darkness beyond the fence. Whatever had visited Sophie's window knew where I was now. It had found me here, in the one place I'd thought was safe.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Alex's number. My finger hovered over the call button for a long moment. He'd know what to do, how to protect Sarah's family from whatever supernatural threat had followed me here.
But something held me back. Maybe it was Sophie's description of the shadow man, tall, dark, with glowing eyes and long fingers. 
Or maybe it was just paranoia, the last rational part of my mind trying to protect me from trusting the wrong person again.
I set the phone aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.