I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I truly felt safe in my own home. The sound of faint creaks from the front gate or the crunch of gravel in the driveway now made my heart pounding, my eyes always moving towards the window sense of dread.
It all started as a normal thing, Alexander “stopping by” under the pretence of visiting my dad. He would exchange pleasantries with my parents, all charm and smiles, but when his eyes met mine, his gaze darkened with a possessive intensity that made my skin crawl.
One afternoon, I was in the kitchen helping my mom out with dinner when I heard his voice at the front door.
“Williamson! I thought I’d stop by with those business reports.”
I froze, the knife trembling in my hand. He’s here. Again.
My mom smiled warmly, unaware of the angry storm
