Chapter 3: The Knock at the Window
1419 Words
Fiona’s POV
My heart stops.
Xander stands outside the window, his face half-hidden by shadows, his dark eyes locked on me like he’s reading every thought in my head. The soft glow of the streetlight behind him makes him look unreal — too sharp, too still, too dangerous. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just stands there, watching.
My breath comes in short, shallow gasps. My fingers grip the edge of the door like it’s the only thing holding me upright. He’s just standing there, I tell myself. He hasn’t done anything. He can’t come in. The door is locked.
But the logic doesn’t help. My pulse is racing like I’ve run a marathon.
“Go away,” I say, my voice cracking at the edges. I hate how weak I sound. “I’m not in the mood for this, Xander.”
He doesn’t move.
I glance at my phone on the small table next to the door. If I run for it, I could call someone. But would he still be here when I turn around? Would he come inside?
“Did you hear me?” I say louder, stepping forward, trying to channel Harper’s confidence. “Go. Away.”
Finally, he moves. Slowly. Deliberately. His head tilts to the side, his eyes narrowing like he’s studying me. His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smirk. Like he knows something I don’t.
“I’m not here to scare you, Fiona,” he says, his voice muffled through the glass but still clear as day. Deep. Rough. Too calm. “If I wanted to scare you, I wouldn’t knock.”
“Congratulations. You succeeded anyway,” I snap, taking another step toward him, even though my instincts scream at me to back away. “What do you want, Xander?”
He raises his hands, palms facing me like he’s showing he’s unarmed. “I just want to talk.”
“Then text me.”
“Texting’s boring.” His eyes meet mine again, sharp and steady. “Besides, you wouldn’t answer.”
He’s not wrong. But I’m not about to admit that.
“Look, if this is about earlier, I’m over it,” I say, crossing my arms even though I’m still shaking. “You and your brothers can find someone else to play your stupid little games with.”
Xander raises an eyebrow. “You think this is a game?”
“Isn’t it?” I fire back. “Cornering me at the party. Acting like you’re all so mysterious. Dropping creepy little warnings like you’re in some kind of thriller movie.” I shake my head. “I’m not interested, Xander.”
His smirk fades. His eyes darken, and for the first time, I see it — that shift in his face. The one that says he’s done pretending.
“You should be,” he says softly, his voice so calm it makes the hairs on my arms stand up. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re part of it now.”
Part of it? My chest tightens. My fingers curl into fists. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t care. Leave.”
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face like he’s searching for cracks. Then, he steps back from the window. The shadows swallow him whole, and for a second, I think he’s gone.
But then I hear his voice.
“You’ll see soon enough, Fiona.” It’s quiet, just above a whisper, but it echoes like thunder in my ears. “When it happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I blink, and he’s gone. Just… gone.
I rush to the window, peering outside, scanning the street and the sidewalk, but there’s no sign of him. No sound of footsteps in the snow. No movement at all. It’s like he vanished into thin air.
My heart is still racing. My mind is spinning. I grab my phone and scroll to Harper’s number. I tap it, and it rings. Pick up, pick up, pick up…
“Hey, Fi!” Harper’s voice is light and cheerful, like she’s still at the party. “What’s up?”
“Harper,” I say, still staring out the window, eyes darting between shadows. “I think Xander just showed up at my house.”
“What?” She sounds distracted. “Wait, what? At your house? Like outside?”
“Yes. He was knocking on my window.”
“Creepy much,” she says with a nervous laugh. “What did he want?”
“I don’t know. He kept talking about warnings and how I’m ‘part of it now.’” My voice shakes despite how hard I try to sound calm. “It felt like he was trying to scare me.”
“Okay, that’s weird,” she says, her playful tone gone. “Maybe you should call someone. Like… I don’t know, your parents?”
I glance around my empty living room. No parents here. No one but me.
“They’re out of town until Sunday,” I mutter.
“Then lock the doors and stay put,” she says quickly. “Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m serious, Fi. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know how this goes.”
“Trust me, I’m not opening anything,” I say, checking the locks on the front door for the second time. “He’s gone now anyway.”
“Still,” she says, her voice firm. “Stay safe, alright? If he comes back, call me. Or call the cops. I’m not joking.”
“Yeah. I will.”
We talk a little longer, but I can hear Harper’s worry in her voice. I tell her I’m fine, but I’m not. Not really.
After we hang up, I double-check the locks on every door and window in the house. Twice. My heart won’t stop racing. Every creak of the house makes me spin around. Every shadow looks too sharp.
I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it’ll help me calm down. It’s fine, I tell myself. He’s gone. He’s gone.
But the words feel hollow.
I sip my water slowly, staring out the kitchen window. Snowflakes fall quietly, blanketing the world in white. It’s peaceful. Calm.
Until I see them.
Footprints.
Fresh footprints in the snow leading from the edge of the street… straight to my window.
My breath catches in my throat. I grip the counter so hard my knuckles turn white.
They weren’t there before.
I stare at the trail of prints, my mind scrambling for an explanation. Did I just miss them earlier? No. No way. I saw the snow. It was fresh, untouched.
I set the glass down carefully, moving toward the window. The footprints are sharp, clear, like someone just made them. My chest tightens.
Then I notice something else.
There’s only one set of footprints… but they don’t lead away.
They end. Right at my window.
My breath fogs up the glass, and for a second, I see it. A faint reflection.
Eyes.
Staring right back at me.
I spin around so fast I nearly fall, my heart leaping into my throat. But there’s no one there. No shadow. No movement. Just me and the dim glow of the kitchen lights.
I grab my phone, fingers trembling as I scroll for Harper’s number again. But before I can press it, my phone buzzes in my hand.
A text.
Unknown number.
I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, I tap it open.
“Run.”
That’s it. One word. Nothing else.
I stare at it, heart thudding in my chest so loud it echoes in my ears. I check the sender. No name. No number I recognize. Just Unknown.
I try to block the number, but it won’t let me. It’s like the number doesn’t exist.
My phone buzzes again. Another message.
“They’re coming.”
I drop the phone like it’s burning hot, my breath coming out in short, panicked gasps.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, no, no—”
A soft tap tap tap echoes through the house.
I freeze.
It’s coming from the front door.
Three knocks.
Slow. Steady.
Just like at the window.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
“Fiona,” a voice calls softly from the other side of the door.
My heart stops.
It’s Daniel.
“We know you’re in there.”
- Writer
