Page 10 of Fright Night
I fling open my bedroom door and streak down the hallway, my bare feet making slapping noises. At the end of the hall, my living room…is empty. The front door remains as locked as it was when I went to bed.
Ugh.With a rub of my face, I return to bed.
Tap, tap, tap.
This time, it comes from my window, and pulling the blanket up to my face, I glare at it. A curtain hangs covering the view, but there’s no shadows revealing him looming outside.
Tap, tap, tap.
This time, I refuse to get up and entertain this torment. It’d make him triumphant.
Tap, tap, tap.
Groaning, I yank the blanket over my head and push the pillow into my ears to attempt blocking the noise.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Go. Away.” It’s uttered to the empty—hopefully empty?—room. He couldn’t have heard me from outside, but saying it satisfies me.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Ugh!”
Throwing the blanket off, I swing my legs from bed and head for the window, ripping open the curtain,hatinghe’s won this round.
As expected, there’s no one on the other side, and pressing as close to the pane as possible, I peer around the yard and at surrounding houses. It’s almost impossible with how dark it is, the streetlights only providing so much of a glow.
With a resigned sigh, I slide the curtain closed again and return to bed.
Eventually, I doze, this time to silence.
Dozing only gets me so far, and I’m pretty sure it’s a result of exhaustion more than anything. It’s four in the morning and I’ve gottenmaybean hour of broken sleep.
Work is about to suck, but breakfast with my parents will suck more. When around them, it’s an all-brain-power on deck sort of thing. Which is the exact opposite of what I will be capable of.
Given the fact that sleep will not be happening, there’s little point in avoiding the side effects of blue light, so I pick up my phone for some research.
First: a popular social media app he used to use. I’ll admit to having stalked his page on more than one occasion during his absence, but he seems to have stopped using it entirely, considering the last post he put up was from that fateful party that ended with his arrest. No picture, just a text post—a green leaf emoji accompanied by a black heart.
I keep scrolling, some pictures bringing back memories, while others are brand new to me. I’m about to give up searching for nothing in particular when a new-to-me post has me hesitating, the top half of the photo recognizable from a school event years ago.
The picture of our high school was taken from afar, clearly zoomed in, based on the rough quality. It’s of me and Julian, dating at the time, but we’re only in the corner, as though captured by accident. Julian’s arm is thrown over my shoulder to keep me close, something he often did—much to my dislike—while my gaze is locked on something beyond the photo’s view.
The caption Knox added to the post reads,Something about this building… Maybe becoming an architect is my future.
There’s a few comments on it from an unrecognizable name, which Knox was replying to.
Who’s the girl? She’s hot.
And off limits.
She looks lonely.
Go near her and I’ll break your fingers.
