It was raining. At least, I hoped it was – between the old horror movie on the TV and the freezing temp of the room, I wasn’t about to leave my protective nest of blankets and go to the window to look. Who knew what was waiting on the other side of the old brocade curtains? I could hear the hiss of the trees, and prayed it was rain instead of wind; we needed a break from this winter drought.

The girl on the screen screams and the shadow of a knife flashes – I grimace and hunch farther into the old down throw. A sudden crash makes me jump, and it’s much louder than the tinny sound of the TV. Guess I have to get up. Sounds like the patio umbrella was blown over; gotta get it back in place before it winds up in the neighbor’s pool. I uncurl from the blankets, shivering until my tits ache as I shuffle over to the back door, shoving the curtains aside. The umbrella is down, all right, drowning in the downpour, but that’s not what makes me scream.

It’s the hulking shadow of a man on the other side of my door.