It took a while before Beth could settle herself onto the couch, a while before she could force some sense from the lines of type on the page. It wasn’t the creaking floorboards so much that bothered here. For months, she had struggled with those bouts of paranoia, which was completely logical. So why was she unable to put this particular episode behind her? Why couldn’t she shake the feeling that this one time it wasn’t paranoia, stress, or her imagination?
Because it felt like you were being watched.
The realization jumped out at her with all the clarity of someone coming into the room and speaking to her.
A chill scurried up her spine, tingling. Slowly, she put the book on the coffee table and glanced at the clock. Her mother would be home in forty minutes now.
Not long. Not long at
