It started with the dog. Lacy was a five-year-old pitbull mix with a battery that never ran low and an insatiable appetite. When she refused to eat her breakfast, we knew something was off. I wanted to take her to the vet immediately, but my husband assured me that missing one meal didn’t mean she was dying. I knew that. But when I say that Lacy loves food, I mean that she LOVES food. She once swallowed a whole pizza in a matter of seconds, then pouted when we wouldn’t give her dinner thirty minutes later. If she was skipping meals, it was more serious than a tummy ache.

Later that evening I noticed that she also wasn’t touching her water. It wasn’t unusual for her to go without for several hours. But a whole day?

“Hey babe, have you refilled the water bowl today?” I asked my husband, Troy, as he searched the kitchen cabinets for snacks.

He looked at me confused, “Nah babe. You usually do that.”

“Not today. It was full every time I came into the kitchen. I don’t think Lacy has touched it.”

“Is the bowl dirty? You know how she is. She’s picky about her water.”

“No. I cleaned it last night.”

“She’s been sleeping all day and didn’t eat. Maybe she’s just got a stomachache.”

I didn’t mean to, but I rolled my eyes. “When has she ever gone a full day without eating or drinking? We’re taking her to the vet tomorrow.”

“I think you’re overreacting. But ok. Let’s drop two hundred dollars for the vet to tell us her stomach is upset.”

It was possible he was right. But I wasn’t going to budge. Something felt off.

We took her to the vet the next morning. Her bloodwork was great. There weren’t any signs of pain or nausea. She was sleepy and had a little less energy than usual, but overall, she was fine. The vet asked us about any changes in the household, but we couldn’t think of anything. It was completely random.

Or so we thought.

Lacy stopped sleeping at night. She would whine at the bedroom door, begging to be let out to roam and patrol. At first, we tried getting her back into her bed with treats, bribing her to lay down and go to sleep. But the whining would get louder and louder until one of us couldn’t take it anymore. I tried taking her outside. Maybe she needed to pee. But she’d just sit at the threshold of the doorway, whimpering as I walked into the yard and called for her. After a few nights of this routine, we started leaving the bedroom door cracked so she could come and go. She’d follow us to bed, lay down while we got ready, then as soon as we started to doze off, we’d hear the creak of her pushing her way out. Sometimes I’d hear her pacing outside our room, like she was guarding it from something.

So we took another trip to the vet. Lacy had slept through the night since the moment we adopted her. And she wasn’t one for pacing or guarding. She loved long sleeps in her warm bed, burrowed under a blanket until she saw us start waking up. Again, everything looked fine. She seemed stressed, the vet told us, and asked again about changes in the household. But aside from Lacy’s weird behavior, everything was the same. We were given prescription sedatives and told to exercise her more during the day. Maybe she wasn’t getting the stimulation she needed.

It wasn’t long before Lacy’s personality became almost unrecognizable. While she had started eating and drinking again, she did so sparingly and without joy. We couldn’t get her to go on walks or play with her toys. She slept all day. But it was a shallow sleep, and she would jolt awake at the slightest noise. She was fearful and anxious, and we were worried.

It was several weeks of this before we got the next sign that something was going on.

“Babe!” Troy yelled for me down the hall.

“Yeah?” I yelled back, not wanting to put down the book I was reading to investigate.

“Can you come here?”

I sighed, annoyed that I was being interrupted. I put my book face down on the coffee table and headed to the office. “What’s up?”

Troy looked a bit freaked out, “Uh, did you open the windows in here?”

“No. We aren’t really open window kind of people,” I initially assumed Troy was messing with me, but the look on his face said otherwise.

“Well it wasn’t me. And unless Lacy grew thumbs, I don’t think it was her.”

I didn’t really know what to say. All three windows were wide open. They hadn’t been touched since we moved in, aside from the occasional check to make sure they were still locked.

“Do we call the cops?” I asked, noticing that nothing else seemed out of place or missing.

Troy had panic in his voice, “Yes. Definitely. Call the cops. I’m getting the bat and checking the house.”

I grabbed his arm, “Babe, Lacy would let us know if someone was in the house.”

He stopped, processing for a second. He knew I was right. But she hadn’t been herself in awhile so there was doubt.

“I’m still gonna do a check. Call the cops,” he grabbed the baseball bat we kept in the corner of our bedroom for emergencies and started checking all of the rooms and closets.

I called the police. They sent an officer. But there didn’t appear to be anything missing, there wasn’t anyone in the house, and nobody was hurt. He kept asking if we were sure we hadn’t just opened the windows to air out the room. Something about the fact that we never opened our windows wasn’t clicking for him. I’m sure he left thinking we were playing a prank or that we were crazy.

We didn’t sleep that night. After triple checking that every door and window was securely locked, we cuddled in bed watching TV, pausing every time we heard a sound. Lacy joined the cuddles, seeming more at peace than she had in weeks, which was in stark contrast to how we felt. It was a long night full of little creaks and rustling outside that had us on edge. Troy kept the bat leaning against his nightstand, ready to go if we needed. Adrenaline fueled us until well after sunrise.

In the morning we checked all the rooms, making sure they were exactly as we had left them. Doors and windows were still locked, everything was in its place. But we were hesitant to relax. Neither of us could explain the windows the day before, and on some level, we were waiting for the next strange thing to happen.

We didn’t have to wait long for the next incident. The next night we slept in shifts. When we made it to morning with all doors and windows securely fastened, we thought we were in the clear. We chugged coffee in the kitchen, both groggy from sleep deprivation and the crash that comes when the adrenaline fades. Suddenly Lacy started barking and growling, deeper and louder than I had ever heard. Startled, I dropped my mug, spilling coffee all over the kitchen floor.

“Fuck!” My instinct was to rush to get paper towels, but Troy stopped me.

“Kara, stop. Lacy is going crazy.”

“Where is she?” I asked, noticing the growls growing more intense.

“Shh. I think she’s still in the bedroom. Pass me a knife. One of the big ones.”

Careful not to slip in the coffee, I grabbed the two largest knives I could find and passed him one. I was going to dial 9-1-1 but realized I had left my phone in the bedroom. Great. Convenient.

Troy led the way up the stairs to the room. I kept an eye on the space behind us, worried there could be multiple intruders waiting to ambush. The bedroom door was open. We’d left it open for Lacy. Immediately, we noticed all the windows and the door to the balcony were wide open. Lacy sat at the threshold, looking out to the balcony, alternating between a low growl and a whimper. She looked terrified.

We rushed inside. Troy, knife held out in front of him, went straight to the balcony, looking down at the back yard below and then up at the roof.

“Do you see anything?” I asked, even though his expression told me he didn’t.

He shook his head, “No. Nothing. Let’s check the bathroom and closet.”

Lacy had gone quiet, but she refused to move away from the balcony door.

I tightened my grip on the knife and headed for the closet. I could feel my heart beating in my ears and a tightness in my chest. There wasn’t going to be anything in the closet. I knew that. If there was, Lacy would have been growling there instead of intensely guarding the balcony doorway. But my body wasn’t as sure of that. My hands shook as I reached for the doorknob. I swung it open and flipped the switch. Our closet was a big walk-in without anywhere to hide. There was no one.

Troy checked the bathroom. I heard the door slam against the wall as he threw it open. Again, no one.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and called the police. We waited in the room with Lacy, both of us holding onto our knives, all of us hypervigilant. It was an excruciating fifteen minutes. The sound of the police at the door made us jump. We rushed to put our knives away and let them in, explaining what had happened. Two officers searched the house and the yard but found nothing. Again, they seemed skeptical.

“We didn’t find any footprints or signs of forced entry. You said you were downstairs when the dog started barking?” An officer asked.

I nodded, “Yeah. We were in here getting coffee. Lacy started freaking out and it startled me. That’s why there’s coffee on the floor.”

“And you would have heard someone coming in through the front or back doors?”

I nodded.

“You’re sure they were locked when you went to bed last night?”

“Yes. And one of us was awake at all times last night. We would have heard them open.” Troy snapped. He could hear the suggestion in the officer’s voice, the disbelief and blame.

“Why is that?” The officer asked.

“You guys should know. You were here the other day. We had something similar happen in the office. All the windows were opened.”

The officers exchanged a look, and my heart sank. They weren’t going to be any help.

“Listen, we aren’t finding any signs that anyone has been in or near your house. Dogs bark sometimes. If you’re really worried, I’d suggest getting a few cameras set up around the property. If you see anything on them, give us a call and we’ll come back out.”

The other officer added, “Make sure everything is locked up and try getting some sleep. Even your dog looks tired.”

I wanted to yell at him. Of course we all looked tired. We were being terrorized by someone and the cops were being useless. They didn’t bother to fingerprint the doors or windows. They didn’t ask the neighbors if they’d seen anyone suspicious. They didn’t believe us.

After they left, I turned to Troy, “Do we get the cameras? Or maybe we can go stay with your sister. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

He shook his head, “Let’s not worry Sarah. She’s on bed rest and doesn’t need the stress. Let’s see if we can get some cameras delivered. I’m going to let my boss know we had a break-in and I need a few days off. Do you think Ron will let you take the week?”

“No. Not the whole week. But I can take a few days. I’ll order the cameras. Can you check all the locks?”

Troy nodded and walked off, Lacy trailing him. I felt uneasy by myself but decided to clean up the coffee on the floor and order some cameras online. We couldn’t really afford anything too fancy, but what I found had good reviews and could be delivered the same day. We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon calling out of work, checking the locks, doing a sweep of the house, and putting up the cameras. Lacy stuck to us like glue.

Nothing else happened that day. Or the next. After about a week of sleeping in shifts and obsessively checking every lock in the house, we started to relax a little. Maybe the intruder saw the cameras and had decided it wasn’t worth it. I checked the live feed on my phone as often as possible. It weirded me out to think that cameras inside and around our house were streaming live video. Someone could hack in and watch us. I’ve read too many articles about those kinds of things. But the benefits outweighed the risks. Someone was fucking with us, and we needed to know who and how they were pulling it off.

It was another month before anything would happen. Life was getting back to normal. Lacy still wasn’t as energetic or peppy as she had been before, but she was eating normally and staying in her bed the whole night. Troy and I stopped sleeping in shifts. We both worked from home, but we had early morning meetings, so the shifts weren’t sustainable. I noticed my sleep was thinner. I woke up when the house creaked too loudly. But it was always just the wind or the house settling.

Until it wasn’t.

“Kara, wake up,” Troy whispered in my ear, shaking me awake.

Groggy, I grumbled and snapped at him, “What?”

I didn’t need to wait for his answer. There was slamming below us. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen – like someone was going through all the cabinets. Troy grabbed the bat as I reached for my phone to check the camera feed. We had one set up in the kitchen. The video was weirdly grainy, with the image glitching. At first, I couldn’t make anything out. And then my heart felt like it stopped. I grabbed Troy’s arm, afraid to look away from the screen.

“What? Do you see someone?” He was still whispering.

I squeezed his arm, too terrified to speak. I needed him to look at the video. Thankfully he understood the gesture.

“Oh shit. What is that?” He asked, his whisper highly exasperated.

On the screen was a blurry figure. But it didn’t look right. Its proportions were off. It looked tall and thin, with long arms and a large head. It was hard to make out. The video quality seemed to deteriorate the closer it moved to the camera.

I noticed Lacy whimpering at the door.

“Is the bedroom door locked?” I asked Troy, my quiet voice shaking.

Bat in hand he got up and tiptoed to the door, checking the lock and shushing Lacy. He came back to the bed to check the feed.

“Kara, what the fuck is that? That doesn’t look like a person.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or to puke. The fear was overwhelming.

Lacy started to growl, and I jumped.

“Fuck. Kara, check the hallway feed. Now. Check it,” Troy was panicking.

I changed feeds and all the little hairs on my body stood up. The video was fuzzy like in the kitchen. But there was definitely something there, standing by our bedroom door.

“Kara?” I’d never seen Troy look so terrified.

That’s the last thing I remember that night. It was like I blinked, and it was morning. The sun was just starting to rise, and I could feel a breeze against my skin. Something was wrong. The door to the balcony was open. I sat up and reached out for Troy. I shook him gently.

“Babe. Babe, wake up. Something’s wrong.”

“Hmm?” He turned towards me and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“No, Troy. Wake up. Please. Something’s wrong.”

I looked around the dimly lit room, noticing that all of the windows and doors were open. I didn’t see Lacy. Immediately my mind went to the creatures from the cameras. Fuck. Had they taken her?

“Troy, please!”

He shot up, reaching for his bat, ready to fight.

“Troy, stop. It’s just me. All the doors and windows are open again. Lacy isn’t in here.”

He rubbed at his eyes and scanned the room, then asked, “The cameras. Have you checked the cameras? Are those things still here?”

I started searching for my phone and found it on the floor, slightly under the bed. It was dead, which was weird. I had plugged it in before going to sleep and thought it had a full charge by the time we were watching the feeds last night. I plugged it back in and waited for it to power on. We didn’t get out of bed to try to call for Lacy or lock the door. I think we were in shock.

When my phone booted up, we checked through each of the feeds. The video was clear again, no weird fuzz or distortion. From what we could see, all of the doors and windows in view were wide open. We didn’t see Lacy. We didn’t see anything living or moving.

“Hello? Kara! Troy! Are you home?” A woman’s voice yelled from downstairs, startling both of us. We quickly realized it was Margaret, one of our next door neighbors. I got out of bed and slid into my slippers. Troy followed, pulling on sweatpants.

“Hello? Kara! Troy! Anyone home? I have Lacy!” Margaret yelled again.

“Coming!” I yelled back and realized that my voice was shaking. All of me was shaking.

We hurried downstairs, noting that every single door and window appeared to be open. Margaret looked concerned. She had Lacy on a leash. Lacy whimpered when she saw us, pulling to get to us.

“Are you guys okay? I just found Lacy out front. She was shaking and disoriented. I leashed her so she wouldn’t run away. And then I noticed your door was wide open. So are your windows,” she was looking around, concern and a bit of fear on her face.

I shook my head, “I’m not sure Margaret. Thank you for getting Lacy. We need to call the police. Do you mind if we use your phone and wait at your place? Mine is pretty much dead.”

“Yes, of course.”

We followed her to her house, not bothering to close our door. We didn’t want to touch anything until the police arrived. I was worried they wouldn’t come. They hadn’t believed us before. But we had video this time. We could prove something had happened.

It took twenty minutes for them to show up. Every minute felt like torture. I avoided eye contact with Margaret. How could I explain what had happened the night before without sounding like a crazy person? She could tell that we weren’t okay and busied herself making coffee and trying to comfort Lacy, whose tail was still tucked and who was still whimpering from time to time. I held Troy’s hand, my palms sweaty and heart pounding. He gave a gentle squeeze, trying to offer some comfort, but also too scared to talk much.

When the cops arrived, we met them outside and explained that there had been multiple intruders the night before.

“Last night? And you waited until morning to call us?” A female police officer, Patricia, asked. She hadn’t been with the other officers the last two times, and I was hopeful she’d take us a bit more seriously than they had.

“I-I don’t know. I can’t explain it. We were watching the camera feed and saw two figures in the house. And then the next thing I know I was waking up and it was morning, and all of the doors and windows were open.”

“You said figures? Do your cameras have night vision?”

“Uhm, they’re supposed to. But something was distorting the quality. It was fuzzy and grainy. It kept slipping out of focus.”

“We’re going to need to see the footage. I know you said it was grainy, but were you able to make out anything about the figures? Did you recognize them or notice anything distinct?”

My heart was racing. I was worried if I told her what we saw, that would be the end of it. She’d write us off as loonies or pranksters. I needed her to see it for herself.

“It was really bad quality,” Troy answered, almost as if he could read my mind.

The officer wrote down a note. “We’re going to check the house. You can wait out here or we can come get you from your neighbor’s when we’re done. Once we’re sure it’s clear, I’m going to need you to pull up the footage from last night.”

Margaret was waiting on her porch, Lacy still leashed at her side. We went back to her house. She sat beside me on her living room couch and squeezed my hand, “We have good police here. They’ll figure this out.”

She was biased. Her son, Andrew, was a detective at the local police station. But I doubted he would know what to do if he saw the footage.

My heart sank as I realized that nobody would know what to do once they saw that footage. Whether the officers saw the creatures for themselves or not, they wouldn’t believe us. And if by some crazy chance they did, what would they be able to do? Most likely we’d be labeled hoaxers, and they wouldn’t send anyone next time we called.

If there was a next time…

My thoughts were dark and anxious as the house search stretched on for what felt like hours. I jumped when an officer knocked on Margaret’s door. She squeezed my hand again and went to answer it. The female officer from before, followed her in.

“The house is clear. Aside from the open doors and windows and some broken lightbulbs, we didn’t see anything that looked suspicious. We have a form for you to fill out to document any missing items. And we’ll need access to that footage.”

I nodded, “Yeah. Of course.” I felt sick.

We followed her back to our house. Troy took the form and followed another officer around the house while I led Patricia to the office. I logged into my desktop and pulled up the site hosting our footage. I could feel my heart in my fingertips, and I was visibly shaking. I selected the timespan for the kitchen feed and clicked the play button. At first the video was normal. You could clearly see most of the room, including the cabinets we had heard opening and closing. And then came the static. After a few minutes of snow, the feed started to glitch and the timestamp jumped.

“Looks like a camera malfunction. Did you say you could see someone in the kitchen?” Patricia asked.

“Yeah. There was some static, but it wasn’t like this. I’ll try the hall camera.”

It was the same. The video started crystal clear. You could see down the hall to our bedroom door. Then came the static, glitching, and skipping.

“And this one was working last night?”

“Yes. It was like the one in the kitchen. The quality wasn’t good, but we could still make out a figure by our door.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel some relief that the figures were no longer visible in the videos. No evidence was probably better than the unexplainable. But it also meant we were alone in this. There was no help.

“It was probably hackers. We’ve seen this before. They get in through your wifi and mess with the feed. The video you saw could have been completely fake. If nothing is missing, I’m thinking someone is playing a really messed up prank on you. Do you guys know anyone who might have something against you? Probably someone with computer skills, or someone who knows someone with computer skills.”

I wished her explanation was correct, but I knew it wasn’t the case. I shook my head. I knew plenty of people with “computer skills.” Troy and I are both programmers. But we didn’t know anybody who would do this. And I knew that this wasn’t some prank.

“Well, think on it. If someone comes to mind, give me a call. We’ll look into it. Until then, I’d suggest switching to a more secure system. You can get cameras that have local storage and aren’t cloud based. You can’t see them from your phone, but they also can’t be hacked.”

“Yeah. Thanks. We’ll let you know if anyone comes to mind.”

We left the office and I searched for Troy. I found him in the kitchen, going through the cabinets.

“Anything missing?” I asked.

“No. Nothing. I found a few broken dishes and we’ll need to replace half of the lightbulbs in the house. But nothing seems to be missing.”

I filled him in on the issues with the video. He seemed somewhat relieved as well.

“Well at least they won’t think we’re fucking with them,” he said, setting the form on the counter and rubbing his face in his hands.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “I thought the same. Patricia thinks we were hacked and that the figures we saw might have been fakes. She asked if we have any enemies who might be messing with us.”

He laughed, “I wish. God, I wish that was what was happening.”

“What is happening?”

“Fuck if I know. But hackers aren’t it.”

We were mostly silent as the police wrapped up. They asked a few more questions about people who might want to scare us or who might have access to the house.

“Do you have a landlord?”

“No. We own this house.”

“Have you given anyone a key?”

“Only his sister. And she’s super pregnant, on bed rest, and isn’t techy.”

“Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against either of you?” This question was asked by two officers in three different ways.

The answer to each was, “No.”

We weren’t the kind of people to really make enemies. We weren’t the kind of people to really be noticed. We worked from home, didn’t interact with others much when we went out, and kept to ourselves. We had a few close friends and were cordial with our coworkers and neighbors. Our area is pitbull friendly, so we weren’t getting any negative attention for our very quiet and well-behaved dog.

Plus, this definitely wasn’t someone trying to scare us. No matter how much we wished it was.

Once the police left we made sure all windows were shut and locked and then got Lacy from Margaret’s house.

“Did they find anything? Is it safe for you to stay in the house?” Margaret seemed genuinely concerned.

I faked a smile, “They’re pretty sure someone is just playing a mean prank on us. We should be fine. We’re going to lock up and get a few more cameras up. Thank you for looking after Lacy. This has been very stressful for her.”

“Oh it’s no problem at all. She’s a sweetheart! This has been stressful for all of you. If you need anything, just let me know. I left Andrew a message and let him know someone had broken into your house. He said if it happens again, he’ll personally come check it out,” she gave a reassuring smile and hugged me. She loved her son. But he’d be no help.

We walked back to our house tired, defeated, and scared. At first, we didn’t talk. What do you say in this situation? We’d both seen the feeds. We both knew we were screwed as far as getting help from the police. Lacy fell asleep on her bed in the corner of the kitchen as we cleaned up glass from broken dishes and shattered lightbulbs. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I felt like I could vomit.

Once we were sure we wouldn’t slice our feet on glass, we called our bosses and filled them in. Part of me wanted to work. A distraction would be nice. But we were exhausted and needed to get cameras with local storage. For what? Definitely not the police. Did we really want to catch those creatures on camera again? Did we want proof that we were completely fucked? I don’t really know what our reasoning was. Probably curiosity.

We visited five different stores to try to find what we were looking for. I hate shopping. But it got us out of the house. We brought Lacy, which we didn’t usually do. But it made me sick to think of her alone in that place. After a few hours of searching, we bought as many cameras as we could afford and a few security bars for the front, back, and bedroom doors.

“Are we staying here tonight?” I asked as we installed the new cameras.

“Well seeing as we spent a small fortune on cameras this week, yeah. Sarah is due any day now, so we can’t drop this on her. Your sister is still doing the whole van life thing, so we can’t stay with her,” Troy took a long pause then looked me dead in the eye, “And something tells me that it’s not the house that’s the problem.”

I got chills down my body, knowing he was probably right. I don’t know why we felt that way. We didn’t know anything about what was happening. We’d seen plenty of movies about monsters, poltergeists, and aliens. But those are movies. This wasn’t anything like that.

The plan was simple. We’d lock up the house like usual. We’d run all the cameras. If we had a repeat of last night, the live feed cameras might not store video of the intruders, but we’d be able to see them. Our hope was that the cameras with the local storage would pick something up though. We didn’t really have any reason to believe they’d work. It’s not like they had hacked our cloud account and altered the original footage - it had just stored that way. Likely the additional cameras would behave the same and we’d still have no proof. But it was better than trying nothing. We’d barricade ourselves in the bedroom. Troy had jammed the balcony doors with the security bars and we would push our heavy dresser in front of the bedroom door. And we’d wait it out. I suggested we sleep in shifts. It wasn’t going to do any good if both of us stayed up the whole night. We’d both be too exhausted to work tomorrow. And after all we were spending on “security,” we couldn’t afford to lose our jobs.

But as you probably know, things don’t always go according to plan.

As the sun was setting, we took Lacy outside for what was meant to be the last time that night. Usually, we’d just open the door and let her go for it. But she had been refusing to go out alone since we’d picked her up from Margaret’s. Lacy had always been clingy, but she was complete velcro after the last night’s incident. We didn’t blame her. I didn’t want her out of my sight anyways.

As the sun fell behind some trees and the sky darkened, there was a sudden burst of light and warmth. I couldn’t see where it was coming from. It was blinding.

“Kara! Kare, where are you?” I heard Troy yell from right next to me.

“Troy, I’m right here. I can’t see anything,” I reached out for him and found what felt like his hand.

That was the last thing I remember before waking up in my own bed, light pink sunlight filtering in through the windows. I sat straight up and instantly regretted it. Pain shot through my head and my stomach rolled. I gagged but managed not to vomit. My vision was cloudy but cleared after several blinks. Troy was beside me, still heavily asleep. I looked around for Lacy but couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Troy. Troy! Wake up! Where’s Lacy?” I panicked, remembering the bright light in the yard the night before. What the fuck had happened? Where was our dog?

“Mmm,” Troy groaned and rolled onto his other side, facing away from me.

“Troy! Please! Please wake up!” I shook him gently. Well, I tried to be gentle. But the pain in my head was pounding and I was freaking out.

He groaned again and rolled back towards me, “What? Why are you yelling?”

“Babe, Lacy isn’t in here. The last thing I remember was taking her out last night. There was that bright light and then –“ I stopped mid-sentence as he shot up out of bed. I could tell from the look that followed that he was experiencing the same sort of hungover feeling that I was.

“Lacy! Lacy!” He yelled, grabbing the sides of his head in pain.

“Easy. I feel it too.”

“We’ve got to find her.”

“I know. I know.” I stood up, bracing for another surge of pain. I was right to expect it. It came on strong and fast, like I had downed a bottle of wine the night before and neglected water for as long as the human body could stand it.

We didn’t let the pain stop us. Lacy wasn’t in the room. I half expected Margaret to call for us from the doorway again, Lacy at her side. But the doors and windows were still closed and presumably locked. The security bar on the front door was still in place. The one meant for the back door was where we had left it before going outside, leaning against the wall next to the doorway. The door was shut, but not locked.

I walked outside, calling for Lacy. She wasn’t in the yard. The gate on the side was closed, the padlock still in place.

“Did you find anything? She’s not upstairs.” Troy asked, walking cautiously into the backyard.

I shook my head, “No. I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Fuck.”

I’m not one to cry. I never have been. But I could feel the tears forming. I was overwhelmed and disoriented. And I felt like I had let my baby down.

“We need to check the cameras,” Troy said, noticing the two cameras we had mounted to capture the yard.

Of course. That’s why we had them. Part of me wanted to keep looking for Lacy though. Maybe she had gotten out somehow. The lights probably scared her, and she found a way out of the yard. Maybe there was a way under the house that we didn’t know about. But Troy was right. We needed to check the cameras.

While he popped the card out of one of the cameras, I pulled up the cloud account to view the Wi-Fi footage. Nothing. The footage showed us walking into the yard, then turned to static, like the footage from the night before. Damn it.

“Maybe this caught it,” Troy handed me the card. I pulled up the video, fingers crossed that there was something helpful on it.

The quality wasn’t terribly great. The sun setting cast weird glares on the lens. But you could make out me and Troy walking with Lacy. And then everything went white. This lasted for close to a minute as the camera adjusted to the sudden burst of light. Slowly, we could see the yard again, now cast in an eerie brightness. There Troy and I stood, completely unmoving, staring straight towards the back of the yard. Lacy ran around us, apparently unaffected by whatever had our attention. She jumped at us, but we didn’t move. And then she positioned herself between and slightly in front of us and took a guard stance. She wasn’t much of a guard dog, but she had done this once before when I had taken her on a walk by myself. A drunk man had approached us being rowdy and inappropriate. She had stepped in front of me, tightened her muscles, and given him a low growl. When he took a step closer, she barred her teeth and did a small lunge, careful not to yank me, but powerful enough to make him stumble backwards. In the video she was displaying the same body language.

Troy squeezed my shoulder as we watched a shadow move towards us on the screen. Lacy reared back and we could tell that she was barking and growling. I felt sick, assuming the worst. The shadow slowly moved closer. Lacy became more erratic, taking a few steps towards it. She tightened, preparing to lunge. And then she froze. The shadow progressed, until we could see the figure casting it. The camera quality decreased, like we had seen on the feeds the night before, but it had the same unmistakable proportions as those figures had.

“Shit. We have it on camera.” Troy stated, and I could feel his hand shaking.

I didn’t speak. I was watching intently, waiting to see what it would do. Did it take Lacy? How did we get back in our bed? What had it done to us?

The figure bent down and poked Lacy. She didn’t move. We continued to stand there, frozen, looking past the figure. It then looked like it pet her. It was hard to make out much detail, but the motion was familiar enough. Something about it made my stomach churn. It stood and turned, walking back out of the frame. Lacy began to follow it. Then Troy and I joined. Where were we going? Why didn’t I remember this?

Shortly after we had walked off camera, the bright light disappeared. I watched, waiting for us to come running towards the house. Nothing. I sped up the playback. Where were we? I sat there for what felt like forever, Troy sitting beside me, watching and waiting. And then the sun started to rise. Still no sign of us. When we saw ourselves racing across the screen into the backyard from the house, I stopped the video and felt the tears from earlier break loose. How had we gotten back into the house? Why wasn’t Lacy with us? What had they done to her?

“Kara, you have meetings,” Troy’s voice was weirdly flat and unemotional.

I’m sure the look I gave him was shooting daggers, but I could see red rimming his eyes as he held back tears, and I immediately softened.

“Troy –“

He cut me off, “We have to go to work. We can’t keep calling out. There’s nothing we can do right now. We need to get ready, go to our meetings like nothing is wrong, and worry about this later.”

“Troy –“

“There’s nothing we can do right now,” His voice cracked a bit, but he pulled it together, got up, and walked away.

I saved the footage from the card to my computer, then took it back out to the camera. I wanted to check the other cameras. One of them had to pick up how we had gotten back into our room. But I went to find Troy instead. I wanted to talk this through with him and get a game plan. I found him upstairs, in the shower.

“Troy, we need to talk about this.”

“I have a meeting in thirty minutes. We’ll talk about it later.”

I could tell that was the end of the conversation. He wasn’t going to talk.

We got ready for work. I sat through a few hours of meetings I didn’t need to be on, leaving my camera off so nobody would see the worry tattooed on my face. I checked the website of our local animal shelter, not expecting to find Lacy, but still holding out hope that maybe she had run off and been found by someone close by. No luck. I tried to work on some code but couldn’t focus and instead began googling creatures that distorted video footage and could wipe your memory. A lot of crazy shit came up, but nothing that matched what we had experienced. I read abduction stories, most of which sounded like something straight out of a movie. They made me queasy, and I hoped they were just the lies of bored and crazy people. I didn’t want to think about what may have happened to us if they were based in truth.

I logged off early. I wasn’t going to get anything done, and the endless stories were making me feel sick. My head still hurt, and I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten something. I didn’t have an appetite. My Lacy was missing. But I could feel that the adrenaline of the recent events had long faded, leaving me weak and drained.

I decided to track down Troy. Sometimes we’d work in the office together, but if we both had a lot of meetings and calls, he’d usually work in the guest bedroom. As I approached the door I could hear him crying.

“Hey babe,” I wanted to tell him it was going to be ok, that we’d get her back. But we don’t lie to each other.

He looked up, his eyes red and puffy. He wiped at them, trying to compose himself. I didn’t give him a chance to. I sat in his lap, hugging him and crying with him. Lacy was gone. We were being terrorized by god knows what. The police weren’t going to help. Locks and cameras weren’t keeping us safe. And judging by the way we froze in the footage, a gun would be useless. It was hopeless. We were fucked. Utterly fucked. And we both knew it.

“What do we do?” he asked.

I shook my head, “I don’t know. What can we do?”

It was his turn to shake his head.

“Maybe we start by eating something. You’re shaking,”

His laugh was weak and sad, “Eat? I don’t know if I can.”

“Come on. You’ve never turned down food before,” I joked with him. He tried to give me a smile, but it just looked sad.

I gave him as firm of a hug as my weak body could manage and got up to make lunch. The house felt weird and empty as I made my way to the kitchen. It didn’t feel like home anymore. It would’ve been easy to just leave. We could have packed up for a few days and stayed at a hotel. Preferably one with a lot of rooms and a lot of people. But then what? We’d have had to come back. And what if Lacy came home? What if she had just run off and a neighbor brought her back? We couldn’t leave and risk missing her. Anyways, Troy was right. After buying all the cameras, we had been blowing through our savings.

I don’t remember what I cooked. Something easy I imagine. I don’t really remember eating it. I remember how I felt. I remember us staring through the window in the dining area out to the back yard, both longing to see our baby girl come running up to paw at the back door and ask for dinner. I remember crying more. I cried so much that my head was pounding and I could barely keep my eyes open.

That night we went to bed. We didn’t sleep in shifts. We didn’t barricade ourselves in our room. We just got ready like we would have before all of this began, crawled into bed, and passed smooth out. We didn’t have the energy to fight it. And to be honest, the fight was over. We knew it wasn’t something we could win. What did it matter if we were asleep or awake? They’d come if they wanted, and there was nothing we could do about it.

I don’t know if anything happened that night. We woke up in our bed, everything as we left it. All of the doors and windows were closed and locked, just as they had been since right after the police left a few days ago. We got up, showered, picked at breakfast, and went to work. I kept my camera off, citing technical difficulties if anyone asked. We looked horrible, like two zombies who had been buried for awhile before they rose. But what else would you expect after what we had been through. Troy and I didn’t talk much. We hugged a few times and cried a bit more. But there wasn’t a lot to say. I tried to concentrate on work, but found myself scrolling through posts on abduction and alien encounters again. It didn’t all sound right, but some of it felt too familiar.

I don’t know what compelled me to do it, but after scrolling for what felt like hours, I decided to write a post. I described all of the weird events we’d experienced, careful to leave out names or our location. I didn’t want it traced back to us. But I felt a strong need to share our story. After realizing the camera footage was too blurry to see our faces or any identifying characteristics, I added a clip, the part where the creature bent down and touched Lacy through when we followed it. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I was expecting to get out of it. Maybe I was secretly hoping someone had dealt with this before and would tell us how to make this nightmare end. Or maybe I just wanted solidarity in this hopelessness. I had Troy. I love Troy. But we were both so in the thick of it that we weren’t much support for the other. We didn’t have it in us.

After I’d posted our story, I logged off my computer for the day and went upstairs to our bedroom. I could hear Troy down the hall, faking confidence as he took calls and tried to bury himself in work. I had tried the same that morning. But I was too tired. I curled up in bed, expecting to cry but finding myself out of tears. It didn’t take long though before exhaustion overtook me.

I woke up to Troy yelling. I couldn’t tell what he was saying at first. It was pitch black in the room and the door was shut, muffling his voice. And then I heard it, crystal clear, “KARA! KARA! THEY’RE BACK!”

All the little hairs on my body stood up, and I felt like I was going to be sick. I reached around in the dark to look for my phone and find the button for the lamp on my bedside table. When I found the button, I clicked it and nothing happened, like the electricity was out. I found my phone and used it as a light to get the bat from Troy’s side of the bed. He was still yelling for me, which I took as a good sign. If he was yelling for me, he wasn’t terribly hurt or taken.

“Troy!” I yelled as I opened the bedroom door. I held my phone as a flashlight in one hand and the bat in the other. I could feel myself shaking. I wanted to close the door and hide. But he had been yelling for me, and I knew I couldn’t leave him out here on his own.

“Troy!” I yelled again.

“Kara!” I saw his terrified face appear in the guest bedroom doorway. He rushed to me and hugged me tight, then took the bat and turned towards the stairway. Loud slamming and thumping came from below, like it had the first night we had seen the creatures on the cameras.

“Troy, maybe we should go back to the room,” I whispered, suddenly scared of making any noise.

He shook his head and started to walk towards the stairs, “We can’t hide from them. We’ve tried that. It doesn’t work. I want to know what the fuck they are and what they did with our dog.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t being rational. We had both seen the footage from the other night. We had both been frozen in place, and then followed the creature back to wherever it came from without any signs of a struggle. What were we going to do this time that would make anything different? If we were lucky, we’d just wake up in our bed again, no memory of anything past the moment we set our eyes on them. If we got that far. And if we weren’t lucky, we wouldn’t be waking up.

It didn’t matter. We were heading down the stairs, and I don’t think I could have said anything that would have changed Troy’s mind. He gripped the bat so hard that I could see his knuckles turning white as the unsteady light from my phone washed across them. My heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it beating in my ears like a drum. It almost drowned out the sounds of something rummaging through our house, opening and closing cabinets and doors, knocking glass on the floor. Almost.

I wanted to close my eyes as we turned the corner to the kitchen. God, I didn’t want to see it. But I couldn’t. I grabbed Troy’s arm, standing slightly behind him, suddenly very aware that he had a weapon and I didn’t.

And then we saw it. This wasn’t some staticky shadow of a figure on messed up camera footage. This was a real being. It was tall - taller than I had guessed from the video - and incredibly thin. Its limbs were long, but vaguely human. Slender shoulders sloped into a thin neck, holding up a massive head with huge bug eyes and a small slit for a mouth. It stared at us, no discernable expression on its face. My mouth went dry. We froze, staring at the creature as it stared back at us. It didn’t move or make a sound. It just stared.

I broke the silence with a scream, as fingers wrapped around my shoulder from behind. I spun around and immediately regretted it as I came face to face with another creature. It leaned towards me, grabbing my shoulder again and gripping it tightly. The creature looked into my eyes, and the already dark room began to turn to blackness.

“Kara!” I heard Troy yell. But I couldn’t yell back. My body felt like it was being submerged in water and I couldn’t see anything.

And then it was over.

I woke up cold and sore, something damp against my skin. I felt disoriented, and it took me a second to realize that I was laying in the grass in our backyard. The sun was bright, but low, and the grass was wet with morning dew. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the light, but when they did I saw her. There was Lacy, sitting a few feet from me, watching as I struggled to push myself off the ground and into a sitting position. She wagged her tail, but didn’t come to greet me. I didn’t think on it much though. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I hadn’t realized just how little hope I had that I’d see her again until that moment. I crawled to her, pulling her close and crying into her fur.

“Lacy! Baby girl! You’re home!”

She continued to wag her tail, calmly accepting my hugs and sobs of joy.

I stayed there for several minutes before I remembered what I had seen the night before. I looked around, expecting to see Troy, but he wasn’t in the yard. My heart sank. Did they trade Troy for Lacy? It was a horrible thought. I stood up and rushed into the house as fast as my shaking legs could carry me. Lacy followed behind, looking excited like we were playing a game.

“Troy! Troy!” I yelled, barely noticing the wide open cabinets and mess in the kitchen as I ran past it.

I ran up the stairs, gaining strength as the adrenaline kicked in. “Troy! Troy! Babe!”

Troy groaned as I threw our bedroom door open, looking as disoriented as I had felt upon waking up. “What?” He mumbled, peaking one eye open.

Lacy jumped up onto the bed and his eyes snapped open.

“Lacy!” He grabbed her and pulled her close. She wagged, watching me as I came to join the hug.

“I woke up in the backyard and she was just sitting there. I was so worried they took you in her place!” I was crying again. I don’t know where all the tears were coming from. I’d never cried that much in my life.

We sat there for a while, subconsciously afraid that if we stopped hugging her she might disappear again, disoriented and stunned after the night we had had. Eventually we decided we needed to check the time and let our bosses know we were going to be unavailable for the morning. We wanted to assess the damage in the kitchen and check the house. We didn’t expect to find anything. But we wanted to make sure that everything was as it should be - at least for the day. Night would come, and who knows what it would bring with it. At that point, we knew that there was no stopping what was happening and that any one of us could disappear without a trace at any time. But we’d enjoy our day together.

Days. Hopefully there would be days.

The kitchen was a disaster, so we worked together to clean the broken glass and put everything back where it belonged. Did they tamper with our food? How would we be able to tell? Did it matter? No. Not really. If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead. If they wanted to fuck with us, well they were already doing that. There was nothing we could do to stop then. And we were hungry. It had been days since either of us had had enough of an appetite to eat anything substantial. Suddenly we could feel that. We worked together to cook a feast, offering Lacy scraps as we went. She didn’t seem very interested, and barely took anything from us, which we might have seen as odd before the whole ordeal. But her appetite hadn’t been what it used to be since the very beginning. We blew it off as stress from whatever she must have experienced while away from us.

After feasting, Troy and I settled down in the living room with our laptops to handle emails and catch up on work while Lacy laid on her bed in the corner of the room. On days without meetings, we had usually done this, putting a movie or show on the TV for background noise and to keep Lacy entertained. Everything felt normal, something we hadn’t felt in weeks. We stayed there for hours, all of us soaking in the return to routine. When the sun started to set, we took our laptops back to the office and helped each other make dinner. Again, Lacy seemed mostly uninterested in scraps, and instead curled up on the floor, occasionally peeking up at us through one partially opened eye. I was slightly worried. We didn’t know what had happened to her while she was away from us. She could be sick or in pain. But aside from her lack of enthusiasm about eating, she seemed fine.

As we sat down to eat, I asked, "Should we check the cameras?"

I don’t know why I asked that. With Lacy back, it felt like maybe things were going to be ok. As long as we were all here, why did any of it matter? Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe there was still a little fight in me. I don’t know. But Troy’s facial expression told me that he wasn’t sharing the sentiment.

“I think we should drop it. It doesn’t matter. Lacy is home. We’re both still here. That’s what matters.”

He was right. He was. But I could still feel the urge to check gnawing at me. It’d have to wait though. We had Lacy back, and I didn’t want to waste time wading through hours of footage if our time together wasn’t promised. We were both thinking about that as the night set in. Who knows if we’d wake up together tomorrow. Maybe we wouldn’t even wake up. So far we had woken up from every encounter unharmed, usually in our own bed. But we didn’t know what we were dealing with, how long it would last, or what the end game was. We’d just have to keep going, making the best of each day and hoping to make it through the night.

We slept that night without interruption. We woke up the next morning feeling like we normally did. There wasn’t that overly groggy, disoriented and sick feeling we had been experiencing after each encounter. We were all there, including Lacy, who was already awake and staring at us when our alarms started going off.

Over the next few days, we got back into our usual routine. We worked, took Lacy on walks, and spent time together as a family. Things weren’t perfectly normal. Troy and I would feel some anxiety every night before bed. It felt like we were holding our breath, waiting for the next bad thing to happen. We’d started taking sleeping pills to get past it, both of us also hoping we’d just sleep through the next event. Lacy was her usual Velcro self. But she seemed calmer, lower energy, and a lot less interested in food. She ate. But she didn’t like to be watched while she ate. And she wasn’t interested in treats or most scraps. She was still drinking water and didn’t seem to be sick or losing weight. She just seemed quieter, like a creature who had been through something traumatic and was just trying to get by.

It was hard on all of us. But we were slowly returning to normal. After about a week without any activity, I stopped thinking about the cameras or watching the old footage. After about a month without any events, we started to get back out into the world. Lacy was clingier than ever, and would insist she came with us everywhere we went. But after losing her for those few days, we were happy to keep her in our sights at all times. She’d come with us to visit friends and family, or to run errands. She was so well behaved and calm that nobody questioned us for it, and I was grateful for that. Maybe they thought she was a service dog.

Right as I began to fully feel like I could breathe again, there was a knock on the door that changed everything.

We didn’t answer. I think it’s a generational thing. If it was someone we knew, they’d call or text. If it wasn’t, then why were they here? But the knocking continued. A couple of firm knocks, followed by several seconds of silence, then it’d repeat. After a minute or so of this, we both walked softly to the door, careful not to make any noise, and Troy looked through the peephole.

“There’s two guys in suits. They look a little weird,” he whispered so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear him.

“Weird?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. Look.” He moved out of the way so I could take a look. I had to stand on my tiptoes to see through the peephole. I swear our house was made for giants. I could make out two figures in black suits and sunglasses. They looked like something out of a movie. Stereotypical men in black types. But there was something off about them. I couldn’t make them out clearly enough to put my finger on it. But it was unsettling.

“Ok. Yeah. Definitely weird,” I whispered back.

Another knock made me jump.

“Do we answer it? Our car is in the garage. We can pretend we aren’t home.” I whispered. I was curious. I wanted to know why they were here. But I’d had enough strange experiences. Things were just getting back to normal and I wasn’t in a hurry to mess that up.

Troy shook his head, “No, don’t answer it. Let’s just go sit down. They’ll go away eventually.”

Our behavior would have made my grandparents roll their eyes. “Too scared to open the door, huh?” I was sure they’d say, followed by something starting with, “Back in my day…” But we were done with the strange and unusual. We were just trying to move on.

The knocks continued for a few more minutes, decreasing in frequency, but increasing in volume. And then came a voice,

“Mr. and Mrs. Greyson? We know you’re home,” The voice was flat and emotionless, but firm enough to carry clearly through the door.

I looked at Troy, my skin erupting in goosebumps. He just stared toward the voice.

“I’m Detective Ricardo. I’m here with my partner, Detective Jones. We have a few questions about your recent police reports.”

At first, neither of us moved. “We know you’re home” echoed in my mind. What a menacing way to announce yourself. Were they watching us? We kept our curtains closed and didn’t go out much. We’d always been homebodies. We’d always been private. Our car wasn’t in the driveway. How could they know we were here?

“We’re sorry to bother you. We’ll come back tomorrow,” the voice announced.

Troy got up and looked through the peephole again.

“They left,” he confirmed. And I felt myself release a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked, a slight shakiness to my voice.

Troy sat back down and put his head in his hands, then answered, his voice sounding stressed, “I don’t know. But I think we’re going to have to open the door next time.”

“No. Definitely not. If they’re really detectives, we’ll get a call or a letter asking us to come into the station. We’re not suspects. They can’t just come into our home. And if they keep showing up, we just call the police and let them know we’re being harassed,” I argued. I couldn’t explain it, but something wasn’t right with the men who had knocked, and I didn’t feel comfortable opening that door.

“Kara, I saw it too. There was something off about them. But aren’t you curious about who they are or why they were here?”

“Duh. But they could be dangerous. We’re smarter than that.”

“More dangerous than the fucking creatures that keep coming into our house and doing god knows what to us?”

“They haven’t killed us, have they? These guys could.”

“And? Don’t pretend like you’re not just waiting for those things to stop returning us to our beds.”

“It’s been over a month and nothing else has happened. If they wanted us dead, don’t you think we would be?”

“Nothing has happened that we can remember. Do you ever sleep without drugging yourself first? I know I don’t. This house could fall down and I might not wake up. How do we know they aren’t still coming here at night?” His voice was getting louder, more agitated.

“Nothing has been out of place. No windows or doors left open. No cabinets. No food on the floor or broken glass. It’s over! They aren’t coming here anymore! Lacy is still with us. We’re not waking up sick and disoriented. It’s over!” My body was shaking as the emotion poured out of me. For the last month, we hadn’t really talked about it - like some unspoken agreement. I think we thought that if we talked about it, it might start up again. If we kept going, kept pretending like things were normal, then maybe they would be.

He kept shaking his head, and I could see tears in his eyes, “We don’t know that. We don’t know it’s over. Fuck, Kara. I need answers. I need to know what we’re dealing with. I can’t protect us if I don’t even know what this is.” His voice was cracking, and it broke my heart.

“Troy, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok. You don’t need to protect us. We can get through this together. We’re still here. All of us. It’s going to be ok.” I held him close, just like I had that day after Lacy went missing.

“But it isn’t. It isn’t ok.”

He was right. Things weren’t ok. Not really. We were here. We were alive. But we didn’t have any control over the situation or what was going to happen next. We could hope it was over. If all of the signs we’d come to know were gone, then we could tell ourselves we were safe. But we’d be lying to ourselves. We might never be safe again.

The visit from the “detectives” left a heaviness in the air that night. We moved about, tired of everything we’d been going through, the dream of returning to normal shattered. We tried to eat, but neither of us had an appetite. Even Lacy didn’t seem to want her dinner. I remembered when that used to concern me, when she’d loved food more than anything in this world. That felt like a long time ago.

We took our sleeping pills, knowing it was like putting our heads in the sand. It was out in the open now that we knew things would never really be normal again. But we couldn’t spend each night waking up every time the house creaked or the wind blew.

When we woke up, we felt like we normally did - slightly groggy from the sleeping pills, but otherwise perfectly normal. It was a weekend, so we didn’t have to worry about work. We got dressed and made coffee. Breakfast was out of the question. And then we just sat there in the living room, TV low in the background, neither of us actually watching it. We were waiting. The men from yesterday had said they’d be back. We hadn’t talked about it since before dinner. Would we let them in? My vote was no, but I wasn’t very confident in it. I wanted answers just as much as Troy did. Maybe they really were detectives. If so, we’d answer their questions, get treated like we were crazy or lying, and then move on. And if they weren’t detectives and they meant us harm, well then we must be really unlucky. Best case scenario, they had answers for us. Worst case, we were dead. I’m sure that would have scared me before all this started. But at that time…

It was hours before anyone knocked. I jumped, not realizing how on edge I had been while waiting.

“I’m just going to open it. Stay back, just in case,” Troy told me, getting up before I could say anything. He walked slowly, and I could tell he wasn’t confident in his decision. I thought about trying to stop him, but I wasn’t confident in that decision either.

There was another knock, followed by the familiar voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Greyson, it’s Detectives Ricardo and Jones. We’d like to speak with you regarding your recent police reports.”

Troy reached for the door and I could see his hand shake. Troy wasn’t a scared or anxious person. I’d never seen him like this until we saw the creatures on the security feed that first time. But these events had him shaken up. Rightfully so. But definitely shaken.

He opened the door, and I could see one of the men in the doorway.

“Ah, Mr. Greyson. May we please come in?” He was the one who had announced himself as Detective Ricardo.

Troy nodded, moved to the side, and they entered our house. The other man, the one he had called Detective Jones, nodded in my direction. Now I could see what had looked so off about them. They were almost identical. Both were white, average height, with short, gelled dark hair. There was something artificial about their faces, like they’d had plastic surgery to look like the same man. It was weird. It looked like they had been crafted to look as average and unidentifiable as possible. If I were to describe them to a sketch artist, they’d just look like millions of other men. But face to face with them, the air that something was off was undeniable.

Troy led them to the living room, where we all sat down.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greyson. Thank you for letting us in. I’m sorry if we alarmed you yesterday. We are currently investigating a string of recent incidents in your neighborhood. We saw you had reported multiple possible break ins and we’re evaluating if these are connected. Will you start from the beginning and tell us about what you experienced?” Detective Ricardo asked.

“It should all be in the police report,” Troy answered.

“We find that oftentimes there are details missing or things that were overlooked at the time of the initial report. It’s more helpful to hear the events firsthand, so we can make sure nothing is missed.” I would describe his voice as empty. It wasn’t unpleasant. It just lacked emotion and depth.

I began to tell them what we had told the police. It started with the open windows in the office, then progressed to open windows and doors in the bedroom. I mentioned that Lacy was the one who had alerted us that something was going on that day. Troy took over to tell them about the next event, leaving out the part where we saw the creatures on the security feed. He explained that we woke up to all the doors and windows open and the kitchen a mess. We stopped there. The police didn’t know about Lacy going missing, and we didn’t think they needed to. It would bring up too many questions.

“In your original statement, you said you saw two figures on the camera feed. Can you tell us a little more about that?” Detective Ricardo asked. Detective Jones still hadn’t spoken. He just listened and watched us.

Troy answered, “The camera quality was bad. We couldn’t make out any features.”

“Was there anything you could make out? Were they tall, short, thin, fat?”

“It was really fuzzy,” I reiterated.

Detective Ricardo nodded and asked, “Was this the only time you saw these figures? I saw that you have more cameras set up than the police originally noted. Have you captured any other instances of these intruders?”

My heart raced as I shook my head no. I hated lying. But this wasn’t the time to be worried about telling the truth.

“Mrs. Greyson, are you sure this was the only time you saw these intruders on the cameras? I understand the police may not have taken your initial complaint as seriously as they should have. But we have reason to believe that this was not the only time your house may have been targeted.”

“What do you mean?” Troy asked.

“We have reports of strange figures on your property after your last report.”

“Strange figures? Who made these reports?”

“We can’t disclose that information. But the figures were more accurately described as ‘tall, thin, shadowy creatures.’ Does this ring a bell?”

My heart skipped a beat and I instinctively looked at Troy.

“Mr. and Mrs. Greyson, I know this is difficult to talk about. The police department doesn’t have a great track record when dealing with things outside of our usual understanding. But you are not the only household in the area to experience strange events in recent months. We have had several reports of a strange and unusual nature.”

I looked at Troy again, and we made eye contact. He looked back at Detective Ricardo and responded, slowly and hesitantly, “That wasn’t the last time we saw the figures. We had another encounter several hours after filing the last report.”

Detective Ricardo nodded, like that lined up with what he already knew. “Please, tell us about that night, Mr. Greyson.”

We looked at each other again, a final confirmation that we were going to risk it and tell these strange detectives what we’d seen. Then Troy answered, “We were taking our dog, Lacy, outside one last time before bed. All of the sudden there was this blinding light. The next thing we remember, we were waking up in our bed and Lacy was missing.”

Troy paused, then continued, “We checked the cameras. The video quality was terrible, just like it had been the first time. But we could see a figure walk up and touch our dog. Then…”

He didn’t want to say the next part, and I understood that, so I took over for him, "We followed the creature. We don’t remember it. But it’s what the video shows."

“You called it a creature.”

“So did the other reports,” I snapped back defensively.

He nodded, “Yes. I did not mean to upset you Mrs. Greyson. We would like clarity on why you refer to it as a creature. Our other reports did not give much detail. They were too far to see much more than a dark outline. They were able to identify that something was off about the figures, hence the term creature. But you are saying you got close to them. You saw them multiple times on video.”

“And once in person,” Troy blurted out, his voice low and quiet.

“You came face to face with the creatures? And you recall this event?” Detective Ricardo asked.

We nodded, and proceeded to tell them everything. They listened intently as we described our run in with the creatures, and then asked follow up questions, prompting us to expand on our description of what the creatures looked like and what happened right before we woke up. I could feel my heart beating in my ears and in my fingertips. I was shaking, fresh adrenaline flooding through my body as I remembered the inky blackness of the creature’s eyes and the feeling of darkness overwhelming me. I could still feel the weight of it, like being pulled underwater, down to where no light could reach me. It made my skin crawl.

After we finished telling our story, Detective Ricardo asked, “Mr. and Mrs. Greyson, have you had any other encounters since then?”

“No,” I shook my head, “Not that we remember.”

“Do you think there may be other events that you can’t remember? Maybe something while you were sleeping?”

“No. There’s this feeling when we’d wake up after seeing them. It’s like a hangover. A really bad hangover. We haven’t had that since we got Lacy back.”

Detective Jones looked towards Lacy. She’d been in the corner of the room on her bed, close by like she always was. Her eyes were closed, but I saw her ear twitch when Detective Ricardo said her name.

“How long was Lacy gone for?” he asked.

“A few days. Not long,” I answered.

“And did you notice anything off about her when she returned? Any missing fur, marks that weren’t there before, increased skittishness?”

“No, not really. She hasn’t been as interested in play or food. But that started before she went missing.”

“Have you taken her to the vet? Has she had any blood work done to confirm she’s ok?”

I shook my head again, “No. She’s been through a lot. We’ve just been trying to get back to normal and let things calm down. She’s sleeping at night again and her weight is stable. That’s what really matters.”

Detective Ricardo nodded in understanding.

“Of course. We just want to make sure we aren’t missing any details. How about you or Mr. Greyson? Have you been to see a doctor lately? Or have you noticed any unusual rashes, bruising, or illness?”

Troy answered, “No. No. We’ve been fine. We’re both pretty healthy. And we haven’t noticed anything weird or different.”

Detective Ricardo nodded and they stood up. Troy and I followed suit, although I thought the abruptness was odd.

“Thank you for your time Mr. and Mrs. Greyson. We’ll let you know if we need more information. Until then, I’d suggest that you refrain from sharing this story with anyone else. We’ve found that cases such as these aren’t received well by many. They often get twisted, painting the victims as attention seekers and liars.”

“Do you think we’re lying?” Troy’s tone was tense.

The detective shook his head, “Of course not,” he paused, then continued, “Again, thank you for your time. We may be in contact.”

We began to walk to the door, when the other detective, Jones, tapped me on the shoulder. I turned, and he leaned in and whispered, in a voice much lighter than Detective Ricardo, but with the same lack of depth, “Don’t trust the dog.”

It sounds cliche, but I felt a shiver go up my spine as I looked back at Lacy. She was awake, watching us as we led the detectives to the door.

“Babe, you ok? You look a little pale. What did the detective say to you?” Troy looked concerned.

“Don’t trust the dog,” I found myself whispering.

He looked at her, as she watched us.

“What does that mean?” His voice was also low.

I didn’t know what to say. I just shook my head.

The detectives visited two weeks ago. Since then, I’ve noticed that Lacy watches everything that we do. She’s always been clingy. But I’m not sure if she’s even sleeping anymore. I don’t know why Detective Jones would say what he said. Maybe he’s trying to scare us. Maybe they weren’t really detectives. I thought about calling the police station to verify their identities, but Troy thinks we’ll be wasting our time. He agrees they probably weren’t who they said they said they were. But what would we even do with that knowledge?

This morning, Troy and I woke up feeling horrible. We had that hangover feeling, but couldn’t remember anything happening last night. I wanted to check the cameras, but I don’t think Troy wants to know. It’s weird though. Troy felt fine after an hour or so. But I haven’t been able to shake the nausea. I keep vomiting anytime I smell anything strong. And everything smells strong right now.

I decided to write all this down as best as I could remember. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s over yet. The detectives told us not to share our story with anyone else. But what if something happens to us? What if we don't wake up in our beds next time? What if we don’t wake up?

Lacy is watching me closely. She keeps looking over my shoulder as I write this. I keep telling myself it’s ok. Dogs can’t read. Detective Jones was just fucking with us. But I don’t know. I don’t know…

__________________________________________________________________

This story is an excerpt from a currently untitled book of short stories. It's a horror anthology, set in the suburbs. The premise is that horrifying things can be happening in seemingly idyllic places. The book covers various horror subgenres, including creature features, psychological, crime, and supernatural/paranormal. The stories play largely on fears and strong emotion, which contrast with the calm, safe backdrop of suburbia.

This is Chapter 1 of a story I’m working on. I’m a few chapters in and have the storyline planned out. However I wanted to share the introduction to see if it’s interesting enough.

Chapter 1: The Mountain

It’s cold. I hate it. And the air is thin, which only makes it that much worse. My best friend raves about it up here. Life on the mountain is so wonderful. Either she’s lying or she’s insane, because I’ve only been here a week and I already feel like throwing myself off the side.

Honestly, I should just leave. But I have nowhere to go. If I did, I’d be there instead of freezing my ass off in the guest bedroom of Allie’s mountaintop hideaway. But here I am, tights, leggings, fuzzy socks, thermal, and sweater in the middle of March trying to get warm enough to get some work done.

“If you’d just gain a few pounds you wouldn’t be so cold. It’s really not that bad. It got up to sixty the other day,” Allie told me, after I had spent my first night shivering so hard that I couldn’t sleep.

Gain a few pounds? How about we just turn on the heat? Or better yet, we move back down into civilization where spring is in full swing and we can wear short sleeves without turning into popsicles.

I don’t mean to complain. I really don’t. She took me in, and I’m grateful. After I had ended my three-year relationship, I had no clue what I was going to do or where I was going to go. When you spend so long building something with someone, life kind of falls apart when the relationship does. I’m cold and hurting. And I just want to be back in my little apartment in the valley, where it’s rarely drops below seventy degrees. But I can’t go back. And no matter how much I hate this place, it’s a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on.

“I know you hate the cold, but you can’t tell me that that isn’t beautiful,” Allie comes up behind me as I stare out the large glass door that leads to the balcony.

She’s right. It is beautiful. I’m not used to all the trees and green. Not up close anyways. You can see a few other houses peeking out here and there. But they’re few and far between. She loves that. There is a tiny town a few miles down a narrow, poorly paved road. Once a week, she’ll drive there to pick up groceries and socialize. Then she holes up here for the rest of the time, knitting and editing manuscripts the publishing company she works for sends. I mean, it’s a nice set up. She makes good money and doesn’t even have to get out of bed if she doesn’t want to. But it has to get lonely and boring. There’s nothing to do and cable and internet can only occupy you for so long. I’m going to end up going stir crazy. How can you be productive when you’re so cut off from the rest of the world?

“So, you remember how I was telling you about that guy - the one that owns the online business and travels around giving lectures on how to start a company? Yeah, he asked me to come to his event in Arizona. He’s paying for the whole trip.”

I grab the cup of coffee she’s holding out to me and sit on the couch before replying, “Are you going to go? I thought you said he wasn’t really looking for anything serious and you didn’t want to waste your time? Or are you thinking about starting a business?”

She sits across from me in a large chair that’s layered with some of the knitted blankets she’s made since moving up here. “When he was here last month we had a great time. I wasn’t really expecting anything. But I felt that spark. And he says he’d like to explore things a little more. Plus, you’d get a week to yourself. It’s been years since you had that much time just for you. It might be nice.”

She’s right. I haven’t been on my own in years. Not for more than a few hours while Trey was at work. I hate it up here. But at least if I’m by myself, there’s nobody telling me to get out of bed or admire the beauty. I can turn the heat up a bit and sleep for a few days.

“When are you leaving?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager to be rid of her.

“Thursday. If you’re ok being up here alone.”

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll just get some work done and eat all your food,” I smile and joke.

“Yes! Eat it all. I keep telling you that you just need to gain a few pounds. I want to take you on that hike we used to talk about. But you’re so tiny I think you’ll disappear or freeze to death.”

I roll my eyes and sip my drink.

“You know I’m right,” she teases, adding, “Will you come into town with me later? A few of the neighbors are trying to get together and start a book club. That’s right up your alley. And it would be good for you to socialize with people other than me.”

“I socialize plenty. I was just talking to Edgar and Rosie this morning.”

“They’re cats. You’re counting cats as your socialization.”

“Are you saying cats aren’t people too?”

“They’re cats. I mean, I love my babies. But even if they do understand you, they don’t care. I’m pretty sure Rosie just pretends we don’t exist aside from meal times. And Edgar runs into walls. You need people who can talk back. And if the cats are, then I think you need to come to town for an entirely different reason. There’s a really good doctor there that might be able to help.”

Another eye roll. When I’m at my best, I usually have some witty comeback. But I don’t even care to try. I’m spending too much energy shivering for that.

“So yes? You’ll come to town with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Fine. But I’m not putting on makeup, talking to any men under forty, and if someone tells me I need to gain a few pounds, I’m waiting in the car.”

“No men under forty? Are you looking for a sugar daddy now?” It’s all teasing and jokes. We’ve always poked fun at each other, but I can tell she’s going out of her way to try to keep things light and cheer me up. It isn’t working. But it’s sweet she’s trying.

I fake a laugh, “Yes. That’s exactly it. I’m looking for a sugar daddy.”

She’s happy I play along. I can see it in her eyes. After a pleased smile, she stands, “Be ready in an hour. I don’t care if you’re still in your pajamas – I’ll drag you out to the car.”

An hour passes too quickly. A warm shower lulls my body into a false sense of security. It’s shocked back into shivers and aching the second my feet touch the tile of the bathroom floor. How do I dress for town? Will we be inside a house? Does everyone keep it as frigid as Allie? Layers. I’d rather feel what it’s like to sweat again than have to socialize while frozen. My hair is still damp and I can’t find thick enough socks to warm the blocks of ice I’m walking on when Allie is yelling at me to get out to the car.

She keeps her car colder than the house. It’s like she’s never heard of a heater. And I can already tell that I don’t have enough layers on for this. But we speed down the road, taking curves like it’s a NASCAR race, so I suck it up and try to focus on the shitty music she blasts. It’s pretty much all parody rap. I didn’t realize anyone actually listened to this stuff.

The town is basically a handful of old buildings concentrated on either side of one main road. There’s a local grocery store that resembles the ones from old-timey movies, only a bit cleaner. I notice a library, two antique shops, a diner, a coffee shop, two fast food chain restaurants, a gas station, and a tiny police station. There are a few other small businesses. But after one stoplight, the shops turn into homes. There’s a patch of residencies that looks like a normal neighborhood you’d find anywhere. But it’s just a patch, and the homes space out, growing in size and uniqueness. I can see how someone could love this. It’s cute. Quaint. But is there even a bar or a place to go dancing?

“The meeting is just a little outside of town. The Millers have a huge house over on Cottage Grove. Their kids have all moved out now and I think Candice is just a little lonely.”

The way people talk about each other in small towns amuses me. Everyone thinks they’re safer and their business is more private because there are less people around. But really, everyone knows everyone and they all love to take whatever tidbits they can get to gossip over.

The house is daunting. It’s three stories, stone, and if it were any larger, it would probably resemble a small castle. The half-circle driveway is already full of cars. Either they own a ridiculous number of vehicles, or everyone on the mountain decided this book club thing was worth showing up to.

Allie is excited. It’s easy to see. Her eyes light up at the sight of so many cars. Of course. Like I was thinking earlier, it must get lonely being in her large house, miles above the town, without any human interaction six days out of the week. She grabs my hand and basically drags me up the cobblestone path to the palatial entrance. One of the beautiful, heavy, wooden, double doors is propped open, with a welcome sign hanging on the other. We walk in without knocking. These people are so trusting. I’d never leave a home this grand open and vulnerable. Anyone could just walk in and steal whatever. Or worse. But as Allie would say, “This isn’t the valley. People are good here. You don’t even have to lock your doors. It’s safe.” She’s naïve. Nowhere is safe. But I can see how it would be easy to feel that way in an area like this.

“Allie!” A willowy redhead with perfect teeth and a melodic voice bounces towards us. She seems genuinely excited to see my friend, which means she’s probably Charlotte. Allie told me about how they like to go hiking together and drive into the city once a month to drink and dance. She could be worth getting to know.

“Charlotte! I didn’t think you were coming. This is Andie. She’s the friend I was telling you about – the one I’ve known since I was like six. She’s living with me for a while. Andie, this is Charlotte,” Allie introduces us.

“Allie and Andie. I bet that was fun growing up,” Charlotte gently teases, then points down the long hallway, “Everyone is in the den. There’s a ton of food. I’m thinking Candice doesn’t know what to do with herself since Jeremy left for college. I’ve never seen so many homemade baked goods in one room before. I’m going to try to find a bathroom in this place. But save me a seat if you can!”

She walks off, looking a bit lost. I don’t blame her. There are too many doors and no indicators. Allie grabs my wrist and pulls me down the hall. I feel like she’s been here before. She doesn’t hesitate as she leads around two turns and into a large room filled with couches, chairs, tables piled with food, and more people than I care to try to interact with. It’s loud, like the food court in a mall. Everyone is standing, walking around and talking to one another. Over one another. But it all seems friendly enough. It’s mostly middle-aged women and couples. But there are a few younger people scattered about, as well as a handful that are elderly. It’s probably a good representation of the community. Not many people our age can afford to own homes – let alone the type they sell around here.

I begin to feel like a show pony as Allie drags me from one group to another. It’s the same conversation again and again.

“Hey! How are you? How are the kids? This is my friend Andie. She’s living with me for a while, but I’m trying to convince her to move up here permanently. She doesn’t like the cold. But there’s just no better place than our cute little mountain. Don’t you just love it up here?” Allie spits out the same spiel again and again.

They’re all polite. Some ramble on about how they were weary at first, but fell in love with the place. Others invite me to dinner or to meet their single adult sons. I’m asked what I do for a living by a few of the older couples, who then proceed to regret asking when they realize that they have no clue what my data analysis job entails and have no interest in learning more.

I feel complete relief when a slightly plump, middle aged woman with smile lines and crow’s feet stands at the front of the room and the noises start to die down.

“Welcome everyone. I’m so happy to see so many friendly faces. I just love when our community can come together like this. If everyone can take a seat, we’ll go over the schedule for the next two months, including what books we’ll be reading and when we’ll meet. It’s ok if you can’t come to every meeting. Just pop in when you’re available. Also, if anyone has any requests for snacks or suggestions for future books, feel free to let me know after the meeting, or you can email or text me. Let’s get started!”

I tune out most of the meeting. The books sound pretty lame. They want to meet too often. Everyone is faking excitement I think. And soon, talk of books and meetings turns into gossip that drifts into individual conversations, until everyone is standing around the food, talking about their kids and health. I want Allie to suggest we leave, but she keeps running off to say hi to whoever she didn’t get to before the meeting started. She can tell I’m not interested in being introduced to every person here, so she no longer tries to drag me around. I’m standing awkwardly off to the side – the obvious outsider.

“You’re the guest Allie has been telling everyone about, right?” A man approaches. He looks older than me, but younger than a lot of others in the room. I’d guess he’s probably in his thirties. He’s tall and slightly scruffy, and it feels like he should have stood out amongst all these people. But I didn’t see him until he was already speaking.

I nod, “Yep. That’s me.”

“How are you liking it? Allie’s place is a little out of the way. I imagine it can get a bit boring up there,” he casually leans against the wall, turning his head to look down on me as he speaks.

“It’s not exactly my style. But it’s pretty,” I feel slightly uncomfortable. I’m not sure if it’s his size or the deepness of his voice when he speaks. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention.

“It is. It’s beautiful up there. Are you going to be staying a while?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure yet,” I don’t know why I’m answering. It’s an odd question, seeing as he hasn’t even told me his name yet. I quickly follow with, “Have you known Allie long?”

He shifts his weight, “About as long as anyone else here. It’s a small community. Nobody stays a stranger for very long.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Well it was nice meeting you Andie. I hope to see you around,” he moves quickly for his stature, and I don’t even get the chance to ask who he is. I’ll ask Allie. But it still feels slightly unsettling. I never told him my name. But Allie has been telling it to everyone here tonight, so maybe he overheard. Or maybe she sent him over. That sounds like something she’d do. But the rationalization doesn’t make the strange feeling go away.

I spend the rest of the event scrolling through my phone and trying to stay as out of the way as possible. The second Allie reemerges from the crowd, I ask if we can leave. As much as I complain about how lonely and boring the mountain must get, I have had way more socialization than I desire and am ready for the isolation of my cold room at the bottom of Allie’s house.

“Yeah. We should get back. I’m sure the cats have found something to destroy by now,” she laughs. She’s glowing, and I can tell this is exactly what she needed. Her weekly recharge. It has left me feeling drained and overwhelmed.

In the privacy of the car, I inquire about the man, “Hey Allie, who is the tall guy that was wearing the grey sweater? The scruffy one with the green eyes and super deep voice.”

She looks confused, “What guy?”

“I don’t know. He looks like he’s in his thirties maybe. He knew my name and says he’s known you since you got up here.”

“It’s not ringing any bells.”

My mouth goes dry, “He’s pretty distinct. Tall, dark brown hair, green eyes, kinda pale skin. He had on a grey sweater and dark jeans I think. His voice is really deep. And he moves pretty quickly for a guy that size.”

“Yeah, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. He’s probably the kid of one of the older couples I introduced you to. They’re always telling me about their grown children who sometimes visit. But I don’t really know any of them.”

“He acted like he knew you personally. He even mentioned how your house was out of the way, like he knew where you lived or had been there or something.”

She laughs, “It’s a small town Andie. Stop being so paranoid. Everyone knows where I live. It’s a great house.”

I should feel reassured by how little she’s concerned, but I don’t. She’s probably right. These people all seem to know everything going on in each other’s lives. And her house is distinct. But I’ve spent my whole life in the city, where nobody knows where you live unless you tell them - and you don’t tell too many people so your place doesn’t get robbed. I’d prefer it if strangers didn’t know where I slept.

#excerpt #suspense #thriller #novel

I thought the adrenaline would carry me farther. I shouldn't be feeling the twigs ripping into my feet or the branches scraping at my face and arms. It shouldn't be this hard to breathe. I should be propelling forward, nothing but survival on my mind.

But I'm crashing and in pain. I feel myself slowing and my limbs getting heavier. My skin burns and stings from the hundreds of tiny cuts the woods have torn into me. And I hear him. His footsteps are closer and stronger. He's getting faster - not slowing down like I am. And if something doesn't change, he'll catch me, and I'll be dead.

This should terrify me. It should fuel the fire and send me flying. But I'm just so tired...

I don't know how far the road is. Maybe if I did, I'd have the motivation to keep going. If I knew the surface would flatten out and somebody might find me, I'd rocket towards it. But I don't know where I am. I don't know if there is civilization in any direction or if anyone will ever find me. I could run until there is no more skin on my feet and there is more blood on the outside of my body than the inside, and I still may be no closer to getting away from this psychopath than I was when he had me tied up in his kitchen.

"Mercy! Mercy! You can't run from me, Mercy! You have nowhere to go!" His voice is deep and powerful, permeating the air and suffocating me. He's right. I have nowhere to go.

Do I stop? Should I try to hide? Maybe I can climb one of these trees and see if there's anything out there. I can climb to the top and wait until morning. He'll have turned around by then. He'll have had to.

I can hear how close he is. His steps are getting louder. The twigs snap beneath his boots instead of stab and maim. And I know he can hear me. My breathing is heavy and ragged. A whimper slips here and there as small rocks lodge themselves into the balls of my feet. I know I need to be silent. I am trying. But everything hurts. Every step. Every breath. It's like millions of small knives being plunged into each part of my body.

"I can hear you, Mercy! You can't get away from me! You are mine Mercy! You are mine!"

This tree will have to do. I don't have a choice. I can't run anymore. There's barely any skin left on my feet and every step has become harder and harder to take. So I climb. The bark tears at me more than the twigs did. But it's mostly my toes. I can't describe the pain. But I can handle it. I have to. I have to keep climbing before he finds me and drags me back to that place...

"Mercy," It sounds more like a taunt now. He isn't yelling. He's so close that I can smell the stench of his sweat. It's putrid and takes me back to that dirty kitchen he has kept me in.

"Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. You can't hide from me Mercy. I can hear you breathing."

I am panting, gulping for oxygen. But I can't stop. My lungs are on fire and my chest feels like it is being crushed. If I climb high enough he won't hear me anymore. He won't be able to find me in the dark. I can get away. I have to get away.

He stops. I don't hear his thundering footsteps anymore. Is he here? Is he below me? I look down, but it's too dark to see anything below my own body. But if I can't see him, he can't see me, right? Please. Please don't let him see me.

My arms are so tired. I am not sure how I'm still holding on. I grip the tree, grabbing for branches, trying to find places to set my toes. The blood on my hands and feet is slick, and I can feel myself sliding, losing my hold. I grab tighter - so tight I can feel the bark pushing into my hands, pieces of it becoming embedded.

I don't think there's any oxygen left in the air. My chest won't expand, and the fire has spread from my lungs to every inch of my body. My head has gone light and my heart no longer beats in any sort of rhythm. It's like gravity has increased, pulling me down.

Down.

I feel myself falling and I can't reach my arms out to stop it. They're no longer under my control. They've turned to stone, helping pull me down faster. All of me is stone. So heavy.

"Mercy... Mercy."

I hear him. I smell him.

And then nothing but a slight ringing as my body hits the ground. I expect it to hurt. But there is no pain. Just nothing.

She’s beautiful. Prettier than me. And you look happy. You never looked that happy with any of the others. So, I’m happy for you. I really am.

You sit in our favorite café at the same little table we always did. And she looks so natural there, taking my spot. You haven’t even glanced out of the window once. She holds your gaze. I’m kind of glad you stare at her so deeply. It gives me time to drink it in and compose myself.

You’re so fixated on her that I doubt you’ll notice when I finally get the guts to come in. I should leave. You want me to meet her. Get to know her. I’ll love her as much as you do, you said. I laughed and assured you I couldn’t wait to meet this amazing woman you were engaged to.

Engaged.

Fuck.

I’ve flown halfway across the country and now I see her and I see the way you look at her…

My whole body is shaking, and I feel like I could vomit.

I have to do this. For you. I have to go in there, smile, hug her, hug you, and be the best friend. I have to make small talk and get to know the woman you’ve chosen. And I might love her. She will be amazing – every bit as much as you told me she is. And that will only make it that much harder to smile, to talk… to breathe.

One foot in front of the other. I make it through the doorway. Too late to turn back now.

“Ally! It’s been so long! How is life in California treating you?” Taylor, longtime owner of this place, hugs me.

I smile. “California is great. Is Devan here? I’m supposed to meet his fiancé.”

“Same spot as usual. I’m glad to hear it’s going well. You’ll have to tell me all about it before you head back!”

I nod. “Of course!”

I should talk to him longer. I should tell him all about California. He’d love to hear about all the restaurants and coffee shops in Los Angeles. We’d discuss the latest trends and all the cool new people I’ve met. And I wouldn’t have to face you right now.

But you asked me to come here. You asked me to meet her.

And we both know I’d do anything you asked of me.

“Ally!”

You jump up to hug me and my heart races, leaping around frantically trying to escape my chest. It doesn’t want to be here and I don’t blame it.

“Devan,” I try to sound enthusiastic. You buy it.

“Ally, this is Raquel. Raquel, this is my best friend, Ally.”

She smiles and it’s perfect. A perfect smile on a perfect face on a perfect body. Her hair is fiery red and her eyes are the sort of green that you only see in Disney movies. Her skin is flawless. Head to toe she looks like a model. But you did always have a type. I shouldn’t have expected any less.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Ally. Devan has told me all about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. He’s been gushing over you for months. I’m sorry I couldn’t get out here earlier. We’ve had some pretty big projects going on back at the lab.”

“It’s totally okay. He told me you were a ridiculously smart scientist. I think that’s so amazing. I wish I had had the motivation back in school to do something like that,” She smiles again. Or still. It’s hard to tell where one smile ends and a new one begins. She looks like an angel.

My stomach turns.

“It’s not that impressive. It’s just a small research laboratory. But thank you. I’m sure Devan talked up my intelligence way more than I deserve. He has a habit of doing that.”

“You're basically a genius. Get over it,” Your laugh feels like rocks being piled onto my chest. I used to love hearing you laugh.

“I’m sure he didn’t exaggerate at all. Everyone around here loves you,” Her voice is so smooth and feminine.

And you look at her again, like you were before you saw me come in.

“I’ll be right back guys. I just need to run to the restroom.”

You don’t take your eyes off of her, and just say, “Of course. We’ll be right here.”

I can barely see straight. My eyes burn. If I was any other girl I’d be crying. I’d have run out as fast as I could, curled up in a ball, and cried until the sun came up. Or whatever it is women do in movies when their hearts are breaking.

But you asked me to be here. You asked me to talk to her. You basically begged me to like her - or to at least tell you I liked her - so you could marry her and start that perfect little family you had always wanted.

Fuck.

The woman in the kitchen is beautiful. Her hair is long and dark and her lips are a deep berry shade. She glides around, occasionally laughing and glancing towards me. The smell of spices swirl through the air – a scent I’d later come to associate with the holidays.

Sounds drift from all around, and I turn my tiny head to see what is causing them. On the couch to my left sits a large old man with a round head and a deep laugh. A petite woman with shoulder length chestnut hair that curls into itself at the bottom sits close to him. Her posture is perfect. She offers polite smiles as the others gleefully exchange stories and jokes. When prompted to speak, her words are short and wrapped in a heavy accent.

There are voices coming from where I can’t see. I move my head around, trying to locate the sounds, but am restricted by the bouncer I’m lying on. To my right, there is a baby gate, holding back a golden-brown dog with a purple collar. She growls at me, barring her teeth and pushing against the barrier. I cry out in fear at the creature.

My father comes to my rescue. As he leans down to comfort me, his long black hair fans out, shielding me from the animosity of the dog. I don’t know how I know he is my father, but I do. His voice sounds like music. And as he lifts me off of the bouncer, I feel safe and protected, like nothing will ever hurt me.

You’re standing in front of me in nothing but a pair of sweats. And I’m becoming increasingly aware of the man holding my hand, waiting for an introduction and to be shown where we’ll be sleeping. You and I make eye contact. My insides squirm. Are my palms starting to sweat? Can he feel my pulse beginning to race? The air is thickening and I can barely breathe.

I’m saved by your younger sister. She has gotten so big. And it hurts a bit to realize how much time has passed since the last time I saw you. She smiles and introduces herself, then points towards our room and asks if the man I’m with has seen it yet. When he shakes his head, she takes his other hand and begins to pull us towards it. You don’t stop her. Our gazes connect one last time before you turn down the hall. I’m torn between relief and disappointment that you’re gone.

The room is large and dimly lit. I brought most of our belongings last week when you had told me there was a spare room we could rent if we needed. We hadn’t spoken in months, but you saw my Facebook post about looking for a place to live and had the space. Boxes line the walls, leaving a narrow path around the already made bed. Your sister shows the man around, pointing to outlets and letting him know where the two different doors go to. One is our own bathroom, which she says we’re lucky to have. She has to share with you. Then she leaves.

“Are you sleepy?” the man asks me. My boyfriend - he’s my boyfriend. He has been for years.

I just smile at him and nod. I know that if I try to speak, he’ll sense something is wrong. I’ll have to lie to him. And he doesn’t deserve lies. It’s nicer to just keep my mouth shut.

The days pass slowly. Each momentary glance as we cross paths sends my heart fluttering out of my chest and fills me with shame and guilt. I only hear your voice as you parent your sister. And it intensifies the ache in my chest. Watching you raise her alone is heartbreaking. We never talked about your loss. You were already distancing yourself by then. But I wanted to be there for you so badly.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of quiet lately,” my boyfriend asks. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I change into something more comfortable.

I pull on my favorite oversized sweater and answer, “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just been tiring getting unpacked and settled in.”

He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, “Then relax. There’s no rush to get everything done at once. Let’s just take a nap and then go out for dinner.”

We curl up on the bed. I wait for his breathing to slow and deepen so I can slip away. The feel of his warmth makes me anxious and irritable. It’s suffocating. Every day it’s just a little harder to look at him. He has done nothing wrong. And I do love him. But I just need to get away.

Sure he’s asleep, I tiptoe out of the room and close the door as quietly as possible. The living room is empty, so I get comfortable, stretch out on the couch, and find a movie on Netflix. I need a distraction.

The second you enter the room, I’m fully aware of your presence. You don’t say a word as you lounge on the couch beside me. Our skin touches, and I feel you staring. The thought of eye contact is terrifying, but I look anyways. We don’t need to speak, because in that moment we both know. Twelve years’ worth of suppressed emotions and unshared feelings bubble to the surface. They consume, drowning me in total bliss and complete devastation. It’s a simple touch. But it’s all I need to know that you have ruined me. My mind flashed to the man asleep in the other room. Nobody else could ever love me as completely as he does. But it is shattered. When I go back in there, I will crumble as I break his heart or I break mine.

You look away. But you don’t move, leaving the flames growing from where our bodies meet. I know I should break it off. I should go pretend to nap with the man who would never hurt me. But I can’t. The flames will burn and destroy until you leave and I am empty.