I froze, every nerve in my body on high alert, listening as the footsteps came closer. The rhythm was slow and confident, like he knew exactly where he was going. I didn’t dare move, even though my wrist was starting to ache from the awkward position. Maybe—just maybe—he’d go to the kitchen or bathroom and never come in here.

But then I heard it.

The bedroom door opening with a long creak.

I held my breath so tightly my chest hurt. For a moment, there was nothing—just silence, and then the faint sound of his breathing.

The next thing I knew, the closet door slid open.

And there he was....