Chapter 18

Carol's fingers fumbled with the tie of her robe, the knot stubborn and tight. She tugged it loose, letting the sash fall to her sides. She brushed through her graying brown hairand stifled a yawn—all her nightly rituals, but tonight, they were interrupted by the faintest scrape, a whisper of sound from the floor below.

Carol didn't feel safe. All day, she felt like someone was watching her every move, and now, all alone in her house, it had become worse.

She stilled, breath held, the silence that followed thick with the weight of unspoken fears. The house seemed to hold its breath with her. Carol strained her ears, seeking the comfort of a rational explanation—a branch against the window, the house settling—but nothing came.

She didn't believe it.

"It's probably nothing," she murmured, the words swallowed by the quiet around her. Yet her heart betrayed her calm, thrumming a warning against her ribs.

Chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she could never shake, Carol edged to the stairway. Each step was a silent plea: don't creak; don't give me away. Her nightgown whispered against her legs as she walked, ghost-like in the moonlit darkness.

"Hello?"

Her voice was louder than intended. It darted into the shadows, searching for an intruder who might lurk there. But only silence greeted her, a void that mocked her with its emptiness.

"Is someone there?"

Her hand reached for the wall, fingertips grazing the cool surface for balance. The question felt foolish the moment it left her lips—why announce herself? Why not flip a light switch and reveal all? But fear clouded judgment, and her actions ran on instinct, the primal part of her brain screaming danger even as logic whispered calm.

The tension twisted tighter with each unanswered call, a coiled spring ready to burst. Alone in the dark, Carol could almost hear her own heartbeat, loud in the stillness that followed. The scent of dust and old wood filled her nostrils, familiar yet suddenly foreign as she stood at the top of the stairs, a sentinel in her own home, shrouded in uncertainty and the pressing sense of something amiss.

Fingers trembling, Carol descended, each step down the staircase a mounting dread. She willed her legs to move, the air thick with the sound of her ragged breaths. She reached the bottom, every shadow a specter in the dim glow of the hallway nightlight.

"Hello?" she tried again.

Still, only silence met her. She flipped the light switch, and the living room came to light. It looked the same as always. She walked to the front door and checked that it was locked. It was—no sign of anyone having tried to enter. The windows were the same. She pulled the curtains, feeling a chill run down her spine as she felt eyes on her. She turned with a gasp, but no one was there.

"Enough of this nonsense," she told herself, looking at the clock. It was late. She had an early morning and should be in bed by now. She walked to the light switch and threw a glance around the living room and kitchen area, then decided it was time to let it go. She turned off the lights, then walked up the stairs with faster, more determined steps.

This was silly. Really.

The bedroom door creaked shut behind her after she entered, a feeble barrier between her and the unknown. Her hand lingered on the knob for longer than necessary. Safety was an illusion; she knew it as her gaze swept across the comfort of rumpled sheets and framed photos.

A floorboard groaned next to her.

Carol's blood ran cold. She spun, her heart leaping to her throat. A figure—dark and indistinct—loomed where, seconds ago, there had been nothing but air. How? The window—it was open. She never locked it up here.

Lunging forward, the shape shattered the stillness. No time for screams, no breath for pleas. Fear rooted her to the carpet as instinct screamed: Move!

Clawing at reality, Carol's mind raced. The intruder advanced, relentless. This was survival, raw and unfiltered.

Carol's fist connected with a dull thud against the attacker's torso, her knuckles screaming in protest. She recoiled, breath ragged, and lashed out again—with the heel of her palm this time—aiming for the shadowy visage that twisted away with maddening agility.

"Get away from me!"

Her voice was a sharp crack in the thick silence, more to steel her resolve than to intimidate. The room reeled as she pivoted on one foot, and then she kicked, her leg slicing the air and hitting the intruder's leg.

A heavy shove sent her stumbling back; her spine jarred against the edge of the dresser. Trinkets clattered, cascading to the floor in a rain of memories and glass. The lamp wobbled perilously at the commotion, its bulb casting erratic shadows as it, too, succumbed to gravity's call.

"Stay away from me!" Carol's shout was punctuated by another wild blow, her athletic frame coiling and uncoiling like a spring, each movement fueled by primal terror and the will to survive.

The attacker surged forward, arms flailing, their bulk a weapon in itself. Carol ducked, a picture frame grazing her hair and shattering against the wall. She felt the sting of splinters and the warmth of a trickle that might have been sweat or blood.

In the chaos, a chair toppled, the sound deafening as it hit the ground. Fabric tore. Metal screeched. Her assailant stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance by the upturned furniture.

"Help!" she screamed, though she knew it would not come. Carol seized the moment, her body a blur of motion as she drove her knee upward, connecting with something solid. A grunt, not hers, filled the room—a small victory swallowed by the struggle.

She couldn't let up, every cell in her body screaming in defiance. This was her space, her sanctuary, now defiled by violence. She would not yield. Each breath was fire in her chest, each heartbeat a drum rallying her to fight.

"Stop—"

The word was cut short as they grappled. Fingers found hair and yanked cruelly. Carol twisted, biting back a cry, her elbow flying back with all the force desperation could muster. She hit him. It was a satisfying impact, followed by a curse that sounded barely human.

Her world narrowed to the melee, the visceral dance of attack and defense. Adrenaline sharpened her senses, every thud, every gasp etched into the fabric of the night. The room bore witness, silent but for the cacophony of destruction they wrought upon it.

"Get away from me!" It was a plea, a demand, a battle cry. She wouldn't go quietlyor be extinguished without leaving her mark or fighting tooth and nail for every second that pulsed through her veins.

Carol's knuckles ached, and her arms felt heavy as lead. A vicious swipe from the attacker sent her stumbling backward, her pulse thundering in her ears. Weak light glinted off the edge of the nightstand, where the silhouette of a lamp promised a fleeting chance at defense.

"Get away!"

Her voice was a razor slicing through the thick air. She lunged, fingers grazing the ceramic base, her grip slipping but just holding.

The assailant surged forward, a mass of dark intent. Carol swung the lamp like a club, its arc short-lived. The figure's hand snatched it mid-flight, wrenching it away with brute force. It happened too fast—her only weapon was now in their control.

"Please—"

The plea evaporated as pain exploded across her temple. White-hot, searing. A crash resonated as her legs buckled, her body no longer hers to command.

Silence descended, a suffocating blanket. Only the ragged rhythm of Carol's breath pierced the stillness, each inhale a shard of glass in her lungs.

Vision fractured, a kaleidoscope of shadows and light, Carol's mind clawed at consciousness. The floor was cold against her cheek, the texture of the carpet pressing into her skin, offering an anchor in the spinning world. She dragged her body forward, inch by laborious inch, her fingers grappling with the plush pile, seeking leverage, anything to propel her toward safety.

"Help," she gasped, the word a mere whisper, dissipating before it could reach beyond the confines of the room. Her hand flailed, searching for her phone, for a lifeline. It wasn't there—had it been on the nightstand? Had it been knocked away in the struggle?

Her attacker's breaths were harsh, ragged storms that filled the space between them. Carol didn't dare look back; she couldn't afford to lose the precious focus required to inch away from the looming presence.

Darkness crept along the edges of her sight, a creeping tide ready to engulf her. Panic spiked, a fresh surge of adrenaline, but her body betrayed her, sluggish, movements disjointed as if she were submerged in water.

"Please," she tried again, the plea strangled, caught in the throes of encroaching oblivion. Her arm buckled, no longer able to sustain her weight. She felt herself slipping, the room tilting on its axis, the last vestiges of hope flickering out.

This is it, a thought floated up through the fog, detached, observing the end as it unfolded. Her fate, once written in the stars, was now rewritten in violence and shadow.

The darkness welcomed her, an inevitable embrace as the figure above moved closer, their intent clear, final.

Carol's chest rose and fell, slower now, each breath a shallow echo. Silence clawed its way into the room, thick and heavy, settling over the chaos of upturned furniture and scattered belongings.

A final shudder ran through her, muscles going slack. The world narrowed to a point, a single frame of stillness in which she lay surrendered to the inevitable.

Her eyelids fluttered, a last feeble protest before they stilled, the haunted fear that lived in her eyes giving way to emptiness. The air itself seemed to pause, the fabric of the night holding its breath.

The attacker stood motionless, watching as life slipped from Carol's grasp. There was no triumph in their stance, only the quiet certainty of a purpose fulfilled.

On the floor, Carol lay defeated, with the struggle imprinted on the disarray around her. Her once vibrant spirit was now just a fading wisp mingling with the shadows.

No words were spoken. There was no need for them when the silence spoke volumes, a chilling testament to the void left behind. The question lingered, unasked but palpable:

Why?