C
The police arrived quickly.
When I opened the door, the corridor outside was eerily calm, as if the chaos of the night before had been nothing more than a hallucination. Not even a scuff mark remained on the door, let alone footprints.
It was almost as if none of it had ever happened.
The officer, a middle–aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache, handed me a card with his number. “Call me directly if anything happens again,” he said. “I’d recommend staying somewhere else for a while.”
After they left, I sat there in silence, surrounded by the brightly lit room and the deafening noise of the TV, turned up to its highest volume. The house felt empty, but I told myself it was safe. It took a long time before I mustered the courage to call my best friend.
She answered almost immediately, her voice bright and alert. “What happened? Are you okay?”
When I told her, she gasped. “Stay put. I’m coming over right now!”
“No,” I said quickly, glancing at the dark window. “Wait until morning. It’s not safe now.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “All right. But stay on the phone with me. I’m so sorry. This wouldn’t have happened if
hadn’t asked you to move here.”
“It’s not your fault,” I reassured her. “If it weren’t for you, wouldn’t even have managed to settle in. I owe you so much.”
Her voice, her concern, and the light filling the room helped push back the suffocating fear. I sat on the sofa, holding the phone close, as the night crawled by.
At dawn, I heard footsteps outside–neighbors stirring, life returning. My friend arrived soon after, and for the first time in hours, I felt like I could breathe again.
She made me a bowl of porridge and smiled. “You’re lucky. After all this, good fortune is bound to come your way.‘
I nodded, though my thoughts were elsewhere.
There was something I needed to confirm. I went downstairs to check my car. The windows were tightly shut, sealed without a single crack. It was as I’d left it.
The sunlight above felt both warm and distant. A hollow relief spread through me, but the lingering fear clung stubbornly to my skin.
I called my boss and asked for the day off.
“Take your time,” she said kindly. “Sort things out and rest. We’ll handle everything on this end.”
Her understanding tone made me feel a rare warmth. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.
“You remind me of my daughter,” she replied. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
In the background, I heard a girl’s voice urging her, “Mom, it’s time for your injection!” The voice tugged at something in my memory.
The voice sounded faintly familiar, as if I had heard it somewhere before.
After a long pause, I finally remembered. It was the same voice I had heard half a year ago, when I first started my job. My boss had been on the phone in the office, and this voice came from the other end.
