Damn it!
For a moment, all I see is black as I reach around to feel for the countertop. My eyes start to adjust to the darkness and I'm able to make out the outlines of the chairs, table, and fridge in front of me. I search frantically for the drawer next to the sink where we keep our utensils. My fingers hit the knob, so I open it and use the screen light from my phone to locate a knife. My hands grip around the handle of the serrated knife, so I pull it out. My heart is slamming against my chest and my hands are sweaty with anxiety. Without Lacey here, I won't be able to tell whether someone is still in the house or not.
I cock my head to the left so that my right ear is pointed towards the kitchen entry. I don't hear anything so I move slowly towards the hallway with the knife gripped tightly in my right hand.
If the lights are out, then the porch light is too and there's no way I'm going outside in the dark. I lay my left hand gently on the wall to feel for any vibrations. Our walls are thin, so if there's anyone moving about upstairs, I should be able to feel their movements vibrate back down through the walls.
I don't feel anything, so I slowly kneel down to place my hands on the wooden floor, careful not to let the knife scrape. I still don't feel a thing, so I peel my hands off when I hear a slight creak. I lift my head up and freeze. My breathing is very rapid now and my muscles tense up. There are only two places in the house that are known for creaking, the stairwell and the study room upstairs. But I know very well that if someone was in the study room, I wouldn't have heard that creak.
I stare intently, trying to make out the stairs ahead of me, but from my position against the hallway wall, I can only see the edges of the first step. I point the knife outwards in front of me, hoping it'll protect me somehow. I hear another creak and hold my breath. Is it going up or down? Should I run or stay put?
I rack my brain for any detailed recollection of the stairs. On the side closest to the hallway wall, there's a railing that curves outwards, the other side has no railing, just a wall. There's approximately eight steps, which means that whoever is on the stairwell has taken two steps. But two steps up or down? I start mentally cussing my body for not providing me functioning ears. I can't freaking tell! I look behind me at the door. Should I just run outside? The officers should be out there and they can help me. I need to run away from whoever is in here. I'm not going to be one of those stupid girls in the movies who run towards danger.
'But what if the person is watching you right now and has a gun aimed at you?' I hate the little voice in my head.
I push the thought away and stand still and listen for another creak. That last creak can help me determine whether I need to run or not. I lay my head against the wall and wait. I don't hear anything, but a few seconds later I feel a thump on the wall. Whoever it was, made it upstairs.
I glance behind me toward the door; towards safety. I make a dash for the door, but as soon as my hand grips the doorknob, the lights flicker back on. I'm almost tempted to run upstairs and see what happened, but I know better. I slam the door open and run outside frantically looking for the black sedan. Perhaps it's the adrenaline, but my feet are numb against the frozen cement. I don't feel the knife in my hand anymore, so I must've dropped it in the hallway before I made a run for the door. I see headlights turn on to my right and automatically recognize it as the undercover cop car that officer McKinley described. The doors open and I see Westmoreland and another officer that I don't recognize climb out.
"Elle, are you okay?" Westmoreland calls out as I run towards them.
"They're in there!" I yell as I point back to the house. "The house! It went dark! I ran! I can't go back inside!" I start crying uncontrollably, unable to put coherent sentences together.
"It's okay, you're okay," is all I hear as one of them drapes a heavy, woolen blanket over my shoulders. I start shivering and I hear my teeth clatter as I start to feel the cold seep into the soles of my bare feet.
"Listen," I look up to see Westmoreland staring at me. "This is Paul," he points to the bald man in his late twenties with a goatee. He's going to stay here with you while I go inside and check it out, okay?"
I nod my head and hastily wipe off my tears with the back of my hand. He heads over to Paul and they start talking amongst themselves, but I can't make out what they're saying. The cold is becoming too much to bear, so I alternate between standing on one foot then shifting to the other. Westmoreland crosses the street and disappears into the house. Paul turns to me and sees me hopping between each foot.
"Oh, here lets get you into the car. you must be freezing," he says. I mutter a thank you as I climb into the back of the car. I wrap the dirty blanket tighter around me and pull my knees to my chest. Paul goes around the vehicle to the passenger side and gets in. He shifts himself to face me better from the front. There's bars separating the back seat from the front like a typical cop car. There's nothing but the flow from the dashboard to illuminate us, so I can't see his lips clearly.
"So what happened? All Cameron and I saw was the lights turned off, but we figured you were going to bed," Paul eyes me cautiously.
Cameron? Who's Cameron? Does he mean Westmoreland?
"I didn't turn off the lights," I whisper.
"Then who did?" I can sense the accusation in his voice. Is this a sick, twisted joke? Does he seriously think I'm making this all up?
"The same person who decided it would be fun to break into my house the night before," I sarcastically spit back.
Paul puts his hands up in defense and says," I'm just trying to gather all the facts."
Before I can open my mouth to retort with another sarcastic comment, I see Westmoreland open the driver's door.
"Find anything?" Paul asks him.
"No, everything looks undisturbed," he announces. He says something else, but I didn't catch it. Westmoreland (or Cameron?) turns to me and says, "would you like to go back into the house? We need to ask you a couple of questions?"
"Yeah, that's fine." I mumble. I'm not quite ready to head back into the house, but I know I need to.
Moments later, we're all inside the kitchen. I set the kettle on the stovetop to make some tea before I sit down at the table. Lord knows I need some heat in my body.
Paul clears his throat before Cameron proceeds to ask his questions.
Who was that boy who left the house earlier? How long have I known him? Do I believe him to be capable of breaking into my home? Where is my mother? Is she informed about all of this? And so on.
I answer each question as quickly as I can. At the end of the session, Cameron stops the recorder that he had set up to capture everything I had said and tucks it away in his breast pocket.
"Okay," he sighs, "I've searched both upstairs and downstairs. Nothing looks disturbed and the doors and locks haven't been tampered with. As for the lights, it could have been a technical malfunction, so if I were you, I'd call someone first thing tomorrow morning and have them check it out," he and Paul both scoot their chairs out and rise, signaling the end of the discussion.
"And the creaks? What about the creaks?" I protest.
Paul coughs and clears his throat to cover a laugh. Officer Westmoreland looks at me with a sympathetic smile and says, "Hun, creaks come with old houses. It's natural," he shrugs as they head for the doorway. "Plus," he adds as he turns around to me, "we noticed that you have..." he points to his ear, letting me know that he knows I have a hearing aid. "You're probably not hearing what you think you're hearing," he says. He shrugs on his jacket and exits out the door with Paul. I follow them in complete silence. I have no idea what else to say.
"Oh," Cameron turns around once more. "We will stay again tomorrow night as per the agreement. But, so far it seems like you've got nothing to worry about." He smiles before making his way back to the car.
I shut the door and lock it before sliding down against the wall. I heard that crash earlier. Didn't I? But Cameron didn't see anything...so was it something from the backyard? No, it couldn't have been. I wouldn't have heard it. Maybe I'm just losing it. Maybe it's a side effect of being hearing disabled. I make a round to ensure that the whole house is locked and secure.
When I finally pad over to my room, I look behind me at the rest of the house covered in pitch black. A nauseous feeling overcomes me as I start to feel homesick in my own home. I'm not comfortable here anymore. I know I'm not crazy. I remember Lacey. I remember that silhouette . I remember the open windows and sliding door. I'm not crazy. I'm not.
"I'm not," I hear myself say as I shut my bedroom door and lock it. I head over to my window and lock it too before closing the curtains. I feel alone and vulnerable, but at the same time completely helpless.
I change out of my clothes and into pajamas. I finally check my phone and see two missed calls from Mikey. I sigh as I dial his number to call him back and hit the speaker button.
"Elle, what the hell happened?" is the first thing that he says when he answers.
I roll my eyes, "I'm sorry, Mikey. I was caught up before the officers came and I forgot to tell them, but," I say before he can interrupt me, "as soon as I was going to, something happened."
"What do you mean?" I can imagine his eyebrows furrowing and his lips curling into a frown.
"I heard a crash, or at least I thought I did. But before I could figure out what happened, the lights turned off. I freaked." I walk around the room as I explain the rest of the nights events to him. "They don't believe me, Mikey," I complain. I don't know what else to do to convince them. I'm not going crazy, am I?" I ask. I sit down on my bed, facing my dresser as I wait for his reply. I look up at my dresser and realize something looks off. I hear Mikey telling me that I'm not crazy, but I'm not listening.
Everything on my dresser is laying perfectly flat and faced towards the right end of the dresser. Almost as if someone deliberately placed it like that. I look to my right and see that the pencils in the cup holder have all been gathered with a rubber band and pointed towards the center. There's a journal that I don't remember putting there sitting in the center of the desk. I see something sticking out of it and open it. It's a picture of me and Lacey from when she was just a puppy, but it's ripped in half; separating me from her. My heart feels like it's stuck in my throat as I flip it over and see in scrawly, red writing:
Take what's mine and I'll take what's yours.
My room starts shifting as my vision starts to blur.
"Elle?" I forgot I was on the phone with Mikey. I catch my breath and grab a steady hold on the desk chair to keep from collapsing.
"Mikey, where's Lacey?" I whisper.