I locked the door as soon as I stepped foot inside. I shut every window and closed every curtain, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I felt as if I was watched and no matter where I went, someone was looking at me, watching my every move. I'd become paranoid.
I grabbed a knife from the drawer and stood still in the middle of my kitchen, not knowing what I should do. I took a deep breath, listening to the sound of my heart thumping through my ears. I had imagined these scenarios before, during the nights I spent alone. I had made a plan, imagined every move down to the muscle, but it was different when it happened in reality. It was something you couldn't prepare because the churning feeling in your stomach and the pool of anxiety in your head makes you forget everything that ever seemed important enough to remember.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, something my Mother always told me to do when I was scared. Just as I was about to finally start breathing normally again, the telephone began to ring. I held my breath, a ball rising in my throat. My trembling hand reached for it slowly and I pressed it to my ear.
"Hello?" my voice was barely a whisper. The line stayed quiet, only the sound of slow breathing coming across. It was a horror movie cliché that I would've criticized had it been playing on my T.V. screen, but it was happening before me, which suddenly took all the humour out of it.
"If this is some kind of joke, it isn't funny," my confidence began to grow, but my knuckles were still white from holding on to the knife so tightly.
"I find it quite amusing," the man finally spoke and my breath caught in my throat.
"What do you want?"
"You're asking the wrong questions, love," he chuckled. "Have you been getting sleep? You look horribly tired." At his words, I turned around letting out a gasp, my eyes scanning the room.
"I'm calling the police." Tears started flowing down my cheeks.
"Not if I get you first," he said and the line went dead. I dialled the three numbers I had hope I never would have to use and waited for an answer. Steps began travelling above my head, heavy feet landing on the wooden floor of my bedroom upstairs.
"Hello, 911, what's your emergency?" a woman answered and I let out a cry.
"There's someone in my house," I whispered, my quivering voice making it almost inaudible.
"Ok, try to stay calm. What's your address?"
I tried to remember, but I had never gotten the chance to memorize it. "I don't know," I cried and the steps suddenly stopped. "I just moved here."
"It's okay, just breathe for me. Do you know what street you're on?" her voice was calm, almost reassuring.
"Oak lane," my voice shook uncontrollably.
"Can you tell me what your house looks like?"
"It's an old white house with black window shutters," I squeezed my eyes close, trying to visualize it in my head.
"Good. We have officers on their way now, but I want you to stay on the line with me, okay?" I nodded even if she couldn't see me.
"I want you to go outside for me," she said and I began approaching the door, my eyes never leaving the staircase.
"I'm outside," I announced, backing away from the house.
"Now, go in the street. The officers should be there any minute." I stared at the house and my heart began to race when I noticed a shadow in the upstairs window. My room. A figure stood in the window frame, his features hidden behind the curtains as it stared at me. I couldn't move and I couldn't speak. All I could do was stand there, trying not throw up on the pavement.
I didn't hear the sound of police sirens as they approached. All I could remember was someone pulling me away from the street as others invaded my house. It all happened so quickly, but it felt like my life was going in slow motion.
"Olivia!" my father's voice snapped me from my thoughts and I turned around, watching him approach me in his full uniform and a worried look on his face.
"Are you alright?" he held my shoulders and I looked down to the ground. I shook my head no and I began sobbing uncontrollably, everything that had just happened hitting me like a wave. And I was drowning.
"Talk to me," he said sternly. My father had always been a tough man, not one to crack at a display of emotion. He had to be this way, his job demanded it. "What happened? What did you see?"
"I came into the house and the phone rang," two other people approached us, holding notepads and listening attentively as I spoke. "He said he would catch me, and then I heard footsteps upstairs, in my room," my voice shook.
"Go check upstairs. Find him," he ordered two officers and they ran up to the house.
"Did you see him?" I heard my Dad faintly ask but all my attention was turned to my window that was empty now. I saw him there, I know I did.
"Alright," my Dad sighed, knowing that I was in no state to say anything else. "Give her a blanket and get her checked for any injuries."
A young woman placed her hand on my shoulder and I flinched. "You're fine, come on." She gently brought me over to the ambulance and I sat down on the edge. She placed a blanket over my shoulders. The weather had suddenly gotten cold.
"My name is Alicia, what's your name?" she asked slowly and I finally looked at her. She looked young to be a first responder, but she had kind eyes.
"Olivia."
"Alright Olivia, are you hurt anywhere?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, I'm just going to check to make sure." I nodded. She reached for my hand and looked back up at me. "Did you cut yourself?" I looked down, watching blood trickle down my arm. I must've caught myself on the knife, but I hadn't noticed it before.
"I guess so," I shrugged.
"Well, it isn't deep, so I'll clean it and wrap it up in a bandage." She poured liquid onto the wound, but I was too distracted by everything else to notice the stinging. Neighbours were beginning to grow curious, some stepping out of their houses and others speaking with the police. I could feel them staring at me and if they didn't know who I was before, they would never forget now. I was covered with unwanted attention. She finished wrapping my hand and checked the rest of me before sending me off to inspectors. They didn't have her kind voice, though, they were cold and harsh. And after a long hour of questions and being tossed around from person to person, everyone finally left and I stepped inside the place I dreaded.
I sat down on the couch with the foil blanket still wrapped around my shoulders.
"How can you not have found anything?" I heard my Dad walk down the stairs, followed by another set of feet.
"We found no prints, Sir. The window was closed and locked, so he couldn't have gotten in from the room."
"Then how did he get in? The front door was locked."
"I don't know, Sir."
"What about the phone call?"
"I sent it to the forensics lab. Five towers pinged the call, so there's no way of determining where the call originated from."
"Damn it," his fist landed on the counter. "Thank you. Call me if you find anything else." And with that, the front door opened and the man left.
"Hey kiddo," my Dad walked into the room. He only ever called me that when he felt the need to soften the blow, like when he told me we were going to move or when Mom died.
"How you doing?" he sat down next to me with a huff.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"We'll find him," he attempted to reassure me after a long pause. "I know it."
"You don't have to lie to me, I heard you talking. They don't have any evidence. I know how these things work."
"Come on, don't think like that. We'll find something," he patted my shoulder. "How about we order pizza? We haven't done that in a while."
"I'm not really hungry," I sighed and stood up. "Can I go to my room?"
"Yeah," his face was covered in disappointment. Normally, I would've felt pity for the poor man, but I was too shaken up to worry about anyone else's feelings. "Yeah, sure," he added and I nodded, making my way upstairs, but I hesitated once I was standing in front of the door. I found myself reaching for the handle several times before I found the courage to open it. My room looked untouched, like no one had ever stepped foot inside, but I knew someone had been there and it sent a shiver down my spine. Someone had touched my things, someone I didn't know had invaded my privacy in one of the most innocent ways and it disgusted me.
I looked around and froze in my spot. My mirror was cracked.