Janie Adams was never meant to be home. It was Halloween night, and she'd been invited to at least five different parties to celebrate the holiday all across New York City, ranging from a full out costumed ball to a few low key get-togethers and cheesy slasher flick marathons (with pizza).
She was not about to hop from party to party all night, but had intended to show her face at at least several of her friends place's, eat some of their shitty Halloween candy and comment on how amazing everyone's costumes looked (even if they didn't). Truth be told, Halloween wasn't her favorite holiday and she - unlike very many other girls - did in fact not see it as an excuse to wear a skimpy cheer leading costume or a skintight catsuit outside. She didn't even bother with a costume at all.
But a nasty case of the flu left Janie bed bound, stuck inside her apartment with the heater turned up all the way and blankets covering her entire aching body. A tiny vaporizer stood beside her bed, conjuring up small bursts of steam that would hopefully aid in clearing her pulsating sinuses, while a steaming hot cup of lavender tea with two tablespoons of honey stood on her nightstand.
The only Halloween movie Janie could stand to watch all the way through without cringing - Hocus Pocus - was playing in the background, but the dull throbbing at the base of her skull and constant aches in her joints was all she could seem to focus on.
Trick or treaters had flooded the city all day. Kids of varying ages dressed up like vampires, Disney princesses and superheroes, babies forced into bee costumes by their enthusiastic parents carrying lanterns, pumpkin shaped jars on sticks and canvas totes filled with sugary sweets. So far, her bell had only rung once, but Janie hadn't bothered to get up to tell whoever was at the door she didn't have any candy and that the thought of it alone made her feel sick to her stomach.
She'd thought about taking down the only visible piece of Halloween decoration she'd put out this year so people wouldn't think to try her house, but even she couldn't deny the unmistakable cuteness of the large, happily smiling pumpkin that stood in Janie's windowsill. It had taken her almost a day to carve the damn thing and she hadn't scoured the dollar store in search of fake candles for nothing, so she decided to keep it up until at least midnight.
As the evening slowly dragged on and the sun finally disappeared behind the city's skyline, the streets below became quiet again. Most kids had gone home to examine this year's loot of chocolate bars, lollipops, pop rocks, pennies, whistles and chewing gum. Janie didn't exactly live in the best part of town, so the streets cleared up even earlier where she lived and for the first time since moving in, she actually felt glad to live there in this shithole of a neighbourhood.
Wind blew violently through the street, shaking Janie's windows and rattling the locks and hinges. She groaned as she sat up to take a sip of tea, squinting her eyes slightly to prevent too much light from coming in. With dilated pupils, she looked around the room. Everything felt so different when being sick, didn't it? So unreal, like being stuck in some sort of plastic bubble in which you're alone with all of your unending misery and pain.
Janie never knew how much she took breathing through her nose for granted until she couldn't do it anymore. It was a silly thing to think about, but not being able to smell or taste anything didn't do a great number on her appetite and so she mostly stuck to liquids like soup, tea and water - mostly water. Being sick truly sucks, she thought as she slowly leaned over to bring the cup of almost cooled down tea back to the nightstand.
The harsh, high pitched sound of the doorbell ringing caused Janie to nearly drop the cup. Liquid, room temperature at least, spilled all over her hand and the wood. Her head spun and throbbed. She winced at the sudden movement in her shoulders, and she had to take a moment to recuperate from the sting. With a sigh, she slipped on a pair of fluffy slippers and zipped up her hoodie to underneath her chin.
It took her far too long to actually reach the intercom, which hung on the wall beside the front door. She took a deep breath through her mouth and pressed the 'talk'-button, telling whoever was down there that she definitely did not have any Halloween candy, and that it was way too late to be trick-or-treating.
When whoever stood downstairs didn't say anything back, Janie slowly shook her head and lifted her finger off of the green button. Whoever had been there was clearly gone, most likely because it had taken her too long to answer or because they were simply playing a prank on her. She'd done it plenty of times when she was a kid, ringing unsuspecting folks' doorbell only to run and hide when they came to open their door.
Janie slowly shuffled towards the window in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stranger, but saw nothing but an empty street littered with candy wrappers, dead leaves and unmoving cars, parked underneath buzzing street lamps.
Janie didn't even know she was spaced out again until she suddenly saw a tabby cat dashing by.
The twenty-four year old forensic pathology student crawled back in bed and quickly fell asleep, drowsing off to the sound of her own breathing. She slept horribly, to say the least. Between constantly waking up bathing in sweat or nearly freezing half to death, finding herself constricted in the pit of blankets and the volume of the television which she just couldn't seem to get right, Janie finally woke up to the sound of the bell, ringing eerily loud throughout the silent apartment the second time that night.
She looked at the TV only to find the movie (still Hocus Pocus) had ended long ago, and that the fake tea light inside the windowsill pumpkin had run out of battery, leaving her in complete darkness. She got up, feeling more groggy than after a night drinking with her friends and pushed the stack of blankets away from her sweaty, sticky body. She slipped on the slippers again and shuffled towards the door, but once again, whoever was downstairs didn't answer when she tried to communicate with them through the intercom.
Perhaps thinking the thing might be broken and they simply couldn't respond, Janie made a mental note to text her landlord when she felt up to it to let him know about the broken device, but for now, she didn't want to think about it any longer.
With a yawn, she dragged herself to the bathroom, where she didn't even bother turning on the light as she went to pee. She didn't want to risk a heart attack upon seeing her own reflection in the mirror, a sight that would surely cause men across the country to flee to Canada when seeing it. She shivered when she sat down, the cool material of the toilet seat causing goose bumps to appear on her pale, sickly arms. She absolutely hated how drinking so many liquids forced her to get up several times during the night to pee, but the idea of feeling better because of it slightly made up for sitting on the icy cold toilet seat in the dark.
Janie perked up when she suddenly heard loud footsteps down the hall. The bathroom wall separated the small room from the stairwell and she could clearly hear heavy combat boots stomping around on the steps. Whoever was out there was clearly not trying to conceal their presence or take their own neighbors into account.
The footsteps thumped closer and closer, meaning whoever was there would soon pass by Janie's apartment. She got up from the toilet and flushed it, quickly shoving down the lid to drown out the sound of water shooting down into the sewers. Her body ached as she stood there in the dark with her left ear nearly pressed against the tiles. She didn't know why she even bothered, it wasn't like she'd never heard people walking around the hallway late at night, but perhaps being held prisoner inside her own apartment for nearly four days had caused her so much boredom that she couldn't help but to listen.
Just as she was about to go back to bed, her blood ran cold. The footsteps came so close she could feel them thumping inside of her. Just as they were about to pass by her apartment, they stopped. The wind continued to shriek and howl outside, now accompanied by long, silver strokes of lightning and bursts of thunder that caused the young woman to jump out of her skin.
Janie's heart pumped wildly in her chest and she could feel herself being able to breath freely again when she heard the lock on her door rattle and shake. Panic overcame her when realization slowly set in. Whoever was out there was trying to make their way into her apartment and do God knows what and there she was, sick as a dog, tired as hell and completely defenseless.
She stood in the doorway of her bathroom, looking out into the living room and into her bedroom on the other side of the small house. A loud bang shook her terribly, along with hushed voices on the other side of the wooden door. Adrenaline began to momentarily take away the crippling symptoms of the flu and in a clear state of mind, Janie watched the door break from its hinges and fall to the floor with a bang.
Three men, all wearing black clothes and ski masks stood in the doorway, holding crowbars, white rope and a toolbox. Janie's heart felt like it was going to stop beating any minute now and her brain screamed at her, yelling at her to run. She dashed towards the bedroom. From the corner of her eye, she could see the men come into action. The clattering of metal onto the wooden floor spiked her senses and just as she had maneuvered around the coffee table, a large hand grabbed a fistful of her tangled, matted hair and pulled it back.
Janie crashed onto the glass coffee table, smashing it into a million tiny pieces of glass as her back collided with it. She dropped to the floor, groaning in pain. Pieces of glass ended up in her hair and scattered throughout the living room, but only the larger chunks found their way through the thick material of her hoodie and sweatpants. Two of the men worked together to put back the door, shoving it back on its hinges and dead bolting it from the inside while the other hovered over her as she struggled to crawl away from his deadly grasp on her hair.
Janie clawed at his hands, but it was no use. The thick pair of gloves he wore prevented her from grabbing onto his skin to do any damage. He hoisted her up, dragging her through the living room while she kicked wildly and tried to swat his arms away with hers. She screamed hoarsely, praying to God one of the neighbors would hear her pleas for help and call the police.
One of the men immediately shushed her by sticking a large piece of silver reflective tape over her mouth, while the other tie wrapped her hands and feet together. He groped her mercilessly, causing her to wiggle and shake as tears sprung to her eyes.
This is it. This is it. I'm dead. I'm going to die.
The third man had disappeared from view, but she could hear him rummaging around her kitchen, probably looking for money or other valuables. The guy hovering over her slit up her sweater and began to slide his hands across her stomach. Janie tried to scream, but all that escaped her taped lips was a muffled cry of help.
Nobody could hear her.
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