My Least Favourite Character (Han Solo Fanfic) #Wattys2016

Chapter 3: Nighty Night

The "noise" didn't bother Gray for the rest of the day. She got out of school at the same time as everyone else, between hugs and holiday wishes.

Tom was already home when she arrived. He'd never been so excited : his room was filled with new toys and posters. He ran to his sister and asked :

"Gray, have you seen my Han Solo ?"

"Oh" she remembered.

She opened her bag and put her hand into the smallest pouch. She frowned, unable to find the little figurine. Confuse, she looked inside it. There was only a packet of biscuits. She took out her books. She opened every pouch, unzipped everything, felt inside, shook the bag upside down. No Han Solo.

"Uh..."

She emptied her pockets and found nothing but a few coins.

"Where is it, Gray?"

"I... I don't know where it is."

Tom sulked and crossed his arms.

"Hey, don't worry." she patted his back friendlily. "I'll find it. I promise."

Gray searched hopelessly around the house, in the garden and on the floor. Maybe Jaz's got it, she hoped.

As it was late already, and family had already came and gone for Tom's birthday party, she went to sleep.

She had a very strange dream that night. But then, how many rare times is a dream not strange? She dreamt of Tom, waving his Millennium Falcon in the air.

"Look, sis!" he exclaimed, and then, giving the toy impulse, he let it go. And it flew. Suddenly, the painted plastic features of the painted plastic turned pretty much real. Gray was watching the real Millennium Falcon flying in her room, until it gave a disastrous loop and crashed with an ear-splitting bump.

Gray woke up at once. After taking a deep breath, she realised how familiar that noise was for her. And for some reason, she was sure she hadn't simply dreamt it.

She turned her head in alarm. Her room was perfectly serene and quiet. Only the sound of her heavy breathing filled in the silence.

But not for long.

Soon, another bang echoed in the room. Gray's short hair stood up behind her head, and a cold chill ran down her spine.

"Who's there? " she couldn't help herself asking, the resonance of her own voice frightening her.

Obviously, no one answered. Gray couldn't see clearly, but she could guess the biggest shapes in the dark. She could see just enough to notice an unusual movement of the closet door. She picked up her tennis racket from the floor with her numb hands. It couldn't be the wind, since all the windows and the door were shut. It was something - alive.

She would've screamed for help, but she was too terrified. Whatever was inside the closet would have time to get to her before help arrived. Gray was left to herself - and a tennis racket. She couldn't just lie there either. Although the idea caused all her muscles to tremble, she had no choice but to confront her visitor.

She stood on tiptoe and walked extremely slowly, constantly afraid that the thing would vault on her suddenly. And when she was only a few inches away from it, she heard what anyone would dread to hear in such a situation: a deep cough. A large drop of sweat rolled on Gray's forehead. The "thing" turned out to be "someone". There was someone in her closet.

Without thinking, she grabbed the handle and pulled it mightily. A pair of eyes stared at her, human eyes. She felt like her throat was being squeezed and couldn't even scream. The only sound that broke the tense stillness was the thud of Gray's body on the ground. The racket clattered beside her, and quietude took over the area once again.