The Knock
Deep in sleep, she was pulled from the quiet by a sudden break in the stillness.
Knock.
Her eyes snapped open.
She froze, staring blindly into the dark room as her pulse started to hammer against her ribs. She sat up slowly, each breath heavy and deliberate, trying to sort reality from the lingering edges of sleep.
Her gaze shifted toward the bedroom door.
Silence.
Nothing moved.
She held her breath, waiting for a second sound to confirm the first, but the silence stretched unbroken.
Swinging her legs over the mattress, she stepped down onto the icy floorboards. She crept toward the door, easing her weight forward so her bare feet made no sound against the wood.
She stopped inches from the frame.
Her hand hovered over the cool brass of the doorknob.
After a long, tense pause, she leaned in and pressed her eye to the peephole.
Empty.
The dimly lit hallway beyond was utterly vacant.
She unlatched the lock and cracked the door open just enough to peer into the passage.
Still nothing.
A sudden, unnatural chill swept over her skin. She pulled the door shut, turned the deadbolt back into place, and stood motionless in the entryway, gripped by an uneasy certainty that she was missing something.
Eventually, the cold pushed her back toward the bed.
The instant her head settled into the pillow, the dream reclaimed her.
The same suffocating darkness.
The same unfamiliar place.
The same blurred face that vanished from her memory the moment she tried to hold onto it.
Then came the ache. A sharp, localized throbbing flared behind her temples, making her wince. Reaching blindly for the nightstand, she fumbled for the pill bottle, swallowed a single tablet with a gulp of lukewarm water, and collapsed back under the heavy quilt.
In minutes, the medication took hold and dragged her under.
She never saw the sliver of darkness shift, or the faint shadow glide silently beneath her bedroom door.
