Marked

III

You awake at the sound of a dead silent night.

You realize that your room has never been this dark, and as you allow your eyes to adjust to your surroundings, a steadily growing uneasiness begin to grip your idleness. Glancing by the window, you notice that even the lamp post outside is dead. Wrapped in darkness, you learn that the air conditioning has stopped, and assume that there’s probably a power outage. Your eyesight is at the mercy of what illumination the moon gives.

Strange, you think, because power interruptions in your community are scarce.

Remaining in bed, you are hardly able to see anything except the time displayed across your bedside digital clock. You look just in time to see two fifty-nine transform into three in the morning. Unusual, you do not remember the last time you got pulled from your dreams at such an awkward hour, and yet you don’t even recall to be dreaming at all. It was as if you were forced out of your slumber for no reason.

You want to make the most out of your weekend so you waste no time in staying awake. In an attempt to continue your well-earned rest, you close your eyes.

You go back to sleep.

One minute…

Five minutes…

Ten minutes…

Frustration digs deep into your skin as you realize your drowsiness has been robbed from you, unable to return to sleep.

You are not sure if all people are like this, but if not, then you belong to the group which develops a keen auditory sense when your eyes are ineffective. You hear better in the dark, ears well-adjusted when your sight fails to aid you. As you lay on your bed, you hear a door slowly open downstairs. When you’re in your own house, you know exactly how every door creaks, and the sound you just heard was definitely your front door. You curse yourself for forgetting to lock it before you went to bed…

Or did you?

You did not. You are a prudent individual who never fails to overlook basics such as securing your front door before retiring for the night. You are certain that you locked it right after entering the house. You are sure as hell that you verified it, just as you do every night.

Even a skilled thief would take time in bypassing the high grade dual lock installed on your entrance; almost impossible to pick. Wanting to believe that you’re merely imagining things, you shut your eyes once more, telling yourself that your mind’s just playing with you.

It was nothing, you tell your silly self but the words of the letter keep shadowing your thoughts.

But it was when you get calm that the deafening silence reveals more sounds you do not want to hear. Just when you think that everything is fine, you hear a pair of heavy feet traversing the floor below. The footsteps are muffled by the carpet, but you can hear them nevertheless.

A burglar? You’ve got to be kidding me. You mumble in disbelief.

You worry about your expensive home theater that is free for his taking if you don’t do something. However, you notice something that distinguishes the trespasser from a common thief. The owner of the faint footsteps does not seem to be in a hurry, each weighted step at least a second apart from the last. Now, someone whose intent is to steal in the middle of the night should be concerned with at least two things: stealth and speed. The person downstairs didn’t seem worried about pointlessly roaming around. Also, he didn’t sound like time efficient, his pace more of a leisure walk.

You still cannot shake off the thought of the letter you read. In any case, you figure that soon, the intruder would finish sweeping the area, and you know your room is surely next. You are finally convinced that you are not alone in your house.