Chapter 13

With my eyes closed, I felt the warmth of the hot water run down my face as I stepped under the shower. Lucy had just left to grab some things at the store, and even though she insisted I go with her, I preferred to stay home and enjoy my time alone. That moment of peace felt like the only silence I had in days.

Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a thud against the door downstairs. I opened my eyes, a chill running down my spine, interrupting the warmth of the water. It was a muffled sound, as if something—or someone—had collided with the wood. I took a deep breath, trying to push away any irrational thoughts. It was probably just the wind hitting the window or maybe an old pipe creaking. Either way, my imagination had always been my worst enemy.

It could be very, very vivid.

"You’re alone here," I murmured to myself, as if that were enough to calm my heart, which was beating faster by the second.

Even so, I remained still for a few seconds, just listening, waiting for a second sound that might not come. And, in fact, it didn’t. I took a deeper breath, feeling a bit of relief wash over me. I went back to washing my hair and closed my eyes as the soapy water ran over them.

However, I was certain I heard the doorknob move. A subtle noise, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable.

Stop. Stop.

Don’t be irrational.

The problem with fear was that once it settled in, it no longer mattered whether there was a real reason to feel it or not. It just stayed there, crawling over your skin, poking at your imagination. I could keep telling myself that everything was fine, that no one had tried to open my door, but my body only cared about the implicit danger it had sensed—whether real or not.

My shower was ruined because, after that, I couldn’t stop imagining what would happen if I closed my eyes again.

And then, again, the doorknob turned, leaving no room for doubt, because I saw it move.

Panic took over me, every muscle in my body tensed, and the water, which had been comforting moments ago, suddenly felt like it was burning me. I entered survival mode, thinking about what to do next. I could stay in the bathroom, with the door locked, waiting for the danger to pass. But what if whoever it was managed to get in? What if I needed to get out?

What if he had finally decided that calling me wasn’t enough?

What if he had finally invaded my home?

The biggest problem was that, in the bathroom, I had no chance of defending myself or calling for help. I took a deep breath, trying to stay in control. Still trembling, I decided I had to get out. I turned off the shower, and the sound of running water was replaced by an unsettling silence—so heavy it felt almost tangible.

With a still-shaky hand, I wrapped myself in a towel. Slowly, I opened the bathroom door and was met with an empty hallway.

I forced myself to take a step. Then another.

Slowly. Without making a sound.

Without drawing attention.

Inside, I kept telling myself I was being an idiot, that my behavior was nothing more than a childish reaction to something I might not have even seen. I knew there was a chance I was just being paranoid. But if I wasn’t…

My heart pounded in my chest, the fear almost unbearable, as if at any moment someone would emerge from the shadows and grab me.

Still, I kept walking, trying to convince myself that nothing was there.

Finally, I reached my bedroom, and as soon as I stepped inside, I turned and locked the door. Only then, with a barrier between me and the hallway, was I able to breathe a little. The tension hadn’t disappeared, but at least I was locked in. Safe.

Tears began to stream down my face before I could stop them, mixing with the water dripping from my hair. I sat on the floor, hugging my legs, trying to make the trembling stop. But it felt as if the fear had seeped into my veins.

Why was I so scared?

I wasn’t like this.

The minutes passed slowly, and eventually, my sobs subsided. A strange stillness settled in, though it was still impossible to fully calm down. I stayed there, unmoving, until I heard another noise from downstairs.

I listened as the stairs creaked, and fear surged through me again, pounding hard.

Then, the sound of a door in the hallway opening.

I knew I had to look, had to finally be sure if there was really someone there.

I took a deep breath and stood up, hesitant, walking to the door and pressing my ear against the wood.

The sound of footsteps was clearer now, as if they were very close to me.

With a mix of relief and disbelief, I slowly opened the door and peeked down the hallway—

And I saw her standing in the kitchen, unpacking groceries and humming loudly to herself, too distracted to notice someone was watching her.

The relief was so overwhelming that I felt dizzy. I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breathing, still trembling—but this time, with a weak smile on my lips.

And the question I should have asked myself that night, but pushed to the back of my mind, was:

If she was in the kitchen…

Who had gone up the stairs and opened one of the doors?