“Mom!” I hear someone scream.

“What?” I shout back as I walk to the living room and see my two kids arguing. 

My oldest, Jennifer, rolls her eyes.  “Yeah right. You’re such a liar, Sam.” 

“I’m not lying! It was there!” my youngest, Samuel, screams. 

“Stop it you two!” I say sternly. “Now, get on the bus or it will leave without you.”

They groan and walk out of the door. 

I rub my face and go back to finish what I was doing in my office. I sit down at my laptop and rejoin my Zoom call. 

“Welcome back, Heather,” my boss says coldly. 

I hear a crash and the sound of glass breaking. I mute the call.

“I told you to get on the bus! If I have to drive you, I’m going to be pissed,” I scream.

The tv comes on at full blast. I get up and stomp into the other room. 

“I told you-” I’m interrupted by intense pain in my foot. Looking down I see glass on the floor, that is slowly turning red near my foot. It must have come from a picture frame. There are a few picture frames on the side table in the hallway. 

“For Christ’s sake!” I shout. I lift up my foot and pull the large piece of glass out. Blood continues to profusely flow. I wobble to the bathroom to get some bandages. I hear the tv turn off. 

“Samuel! If that was you, you are grounded!” I say tending to my foot. 

The cut is pretty deep and looks like it might need stitches. I put a few big bandaids on it and wrap it with a larger bandage. I can already see blood seeping through. I walk on my heel into my office. The Zoom call has ended. I’m sure my boss is going to be mad at me for leaving. I grab my phone and purse. 

“I’m probably okay to drive, I’ve got to get stitches before I bleed out,” I say to myself walking to the front door. 

I grab the doorknob and turn. There is resistance on the door when I pull. I pull it open about two inches and it stops. I look out of the small gap to see what the problem is. I can barely see so I stick my fingers in the space and try to feel around. I notice something holding onto the knob.

Ding! My phone goes off. I ignore it, it’s probably my boss yelling at me. 

I put my fingers back through the slot. I feel along with the knob. It’s a wire? I keep feeling running my fingers down the wire. I slice my finger on something sharp and pull my hand back quickly. Blood is running down my finger. 

Razor wire?

Ding! My phone goes off again. I grab it out of my pocket to see two messages from an unknown number. “I can hear you,” they both say. 

I drop my phone and look around me. “Hello?” I scream. “Is someone here?”

Thud! I hear something upstairs.

I bend down to pick up my phone. I go to dial 911. 

Ding! A message comes across my screen, “They will never make it in time.”

I dial it anyways. The operator answers asking me what is the problem. 

“Someone is in my house!” I cry. “I live at-” The phone is ripped from my hands. I look above me to see a large man. He drops it to the ground and he stomps on it before I can grab it. The phone is smashed to pieces. Hope drains from my body as I look up and see his devilish smile. 

“No need to get others involved. We can be alone now,” he says calmly. He grabs my hair and pulls me over to the couch. 

“My husband will be home soon!” I yell quickly. 

“No. He won’t. I have been living in your house for a month now. I think I would know that you don’t have one.” He stated while tearing some tape off a roll. He grabs my hands and puts the tape on them. I try to jerk away but he is too strong. He tears off more tape and puts it over my mouth. Tears rush down my face. I know this is the end. Whatever may come is just prolonging my death. 

He looks at me with evil intent and laughs, “You’re mine now.” He reaches out to grab me again but is knocked back. I look around but see nothing. The man tries to stand back up but is knocked over again.

I feel a shiver down my spine. A bright white figure comes into view seemingly out of thin air. The man is terrified and tries to back away. The figure puts out its hand and the man flies into the wall. His body goes up the wall and onto the ceiling. The figure opens its mouth and a loud shriek comes out. The lights flicker and the ceiling fan shakes. The man’s face begins to bleed and skin starts to slough off. I close my eyes but I can still hear their screams. 

It finally stops and I hear something fall to the ground, with a wet gushy noise. I open my eyes. The figure is standing over a pile of flesh and bones on the floor. It looks at me and I panic. I get up and run behind the couch. 

“Be not afraid.” I hear. “I have been here for many years.”

I stand up and look at the figure. It is no longer bright white, it is more of a transparent grey. It looks like a woman. She has long hair and looks to maybe be a teenager. 

“Jennifer?” I question.

“No. I am not your Jennifer. My name is Sarah. I died long ago in this house. I could not bear to see someone else perish where I did. You are safe now,” she explains.

My eyes start to feel heavy and my body is weak. I fall to the ground and close my eyes

“You’re bleeding out. I’ll get help,” I hear her say. 


When I wake up I’m being wheeled into an ambulance. 

I can hear the paramedics talking, “The attacker got away, she must have fought him off.” 

“Where is she?” I whisper. 

One of them looks at me and says, “It’s alright now. The attacker is gone. You got lucky.”