Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
KIARA
I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since Grandpa died last month. Living here in the house where my grandfather passed away is eerie because I can still feel his presence everywhere I go. Sometimes, I think I catch a glimpse of him in my periphery, but when I turn my head, there’s nothing—or, rather, no one—there. And I swear I can still hear the familiar sound of his slippers scuffling across the floor when the house gets really quiet. I usually don’t think much of it, because as disconcerting as it is to live in a house with the ghost of my grandfather, it’s comforting to know he’s still here to watch over Grandma while she’s grieving.
Tonight, however, is different. Because it’s not scuffling I hear, but the creaking of floorboards—the telltale sign that someone else is in the house. I know it’s not Grandma because her medicine puts her into the deepest sleep.
Shit! I panic, frantically throwing the sheets off me and jumping out of bed. I have to get to her to make sure she’s safe.
But how am I going to do that? At just five feet tall, I’m no match for any intruder; they’ll have me on the floor in seconds.
I have to do something, though, because Grandma can’t defend herself. And she’s such a heavy sleeper that she wouldn’t even wake up in the middle of an earthquake.
I look around my bedroom for any type of weapon, rummage through the drawers and closet, hoping to at least find a pair of scissors, but it’s pretty bare in here since I decided to purge everything I didn’t need.
Though I’m really wishing I’d at least kept a pair of damn scissors. Who the hell throws out scissors?
Pressing my ear against the door, I try to listen for the sounds of footsteps. If I can get an idea of where the intruder is, I can run to Grandma’s room and lock us in until the police come, but the other side is silent.
I go to the bed to grab my phone. After a minute or two of searching the sheets, underneath and behind the bed, I remember that I left it downstairs after I made dinner and was too lazy to go back down to get it.
Great. This is just perfect.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly open the bedroom door and peer out into the hallway. It’s almost pitch black, but the moonlight from Grandma’s partially open blinds illuminates the path in front of me. I quickly dart out of the room and into hers and lock the door behind me. I grab her purse out of the rocking chair and empty it, but her phone isn’t here.
“Where the fuck is it?” I hiss, scanning the room for the old flip phone.
“Looking for this?”
I scream and nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of the silky-smooth voice. A tall man, dressed in black from head to toe, is standing by the bed next to Grandma. He’s holding a gun in one hand and her phone in the other, as if to taunt me. His face is hidden beneath a black ski mask, but his deep blue eyes bore into me like I’m his next meal, and his plush lips curve into a devilish grin.
“Who are you?” I whisper, voice quivering with fear. My stomach is fluttering with nerves and anticipation.
His voice is soft when he says, “Your worst nightmare, little butterfly.”