I was home and in bed by ten. Christy, unlike me, had to work in the morning. By the time we paid the check, I was done. Three twelve-hour shifts had me practically asleep on my feet. Once in bed, I didn’t even read as I normally would, but instead, turned the light out. I thought of Gray when I fell asleep, but it wasn’t thoughts of him that woke me.
A crash from downstairs had me sitting up, the orange glow from the streetlight filtering through the curtain. I listened and wondered if I had just heard someone in the alley when the noise came again. This time I was sure it was from inside the house, from the kitchen specifically. Someone must have come in through the back door.
Crap! I’d forgotten to replace the lightbulb back there so it was perfectly dark for someone to sneak in. I’d all but helped the guy!
Footsteps moved across the kitchen. I’d lived in the house over half my life; I knew the sounds it made. My heart lurched and fear coursed through me hot and fierce. Grabbing my cell charging on the bedside table, my fingers fumbled over the screen and I was able to dial 9-1-1. As I did so, I slid from the bed and neared the door, listened.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” The neutral voice came through the phone in my hand.
I didn’t respond because I heard shuffling feet, then swearing as the guy—the deepness of the voice was the giveaway—bumped into something in the dark. My parents had night-lights around the house when I was young, but when we moved in, Chris was too big for them and we never put them back.
The house was small enough that if I went down the steps to get out the front door, I would run into the guy. Another crash. Why was he here? I’d heard that people robbing wanted to get in and out without anyone the wiser, but this guy, he was either a bumbling idiot, or didn’t care if I knew he was there. This meant one thing. He wasn’t in the house for my TV. He was in the house for me.
“Hello? What is your emergency?” The voice was low, but it was insistent from the phone.
“Someone's in my house,” I whispered.
I glanced around my room. There was no weapon. My lamp, a shoe. I had no knife, no gun. Nothing! I heard the floor creak between the kitchen and the dining area. That board had creaked forever and I used to step over it when I would come in past my curfew. I knew that sound. I heard the operator talking but I didn't have time to respond. I had to get out of here. How?
I was breathing quickly and quietly and I wondered if the guy could hear my heart beating; it was so loud in my ears. I looked to the window, my only way out. Then I remembered. Chris’ Boy Scout project. Moving quickly, tiptoeing across the wood floor, then the thick area rug, I squatted down by the rolled-up safety ladder. Emergency Preparedness had been his last merit badge before Eagle Scout and we’d had to make the house safe for different dangers. We’d put these ladders by the windows in each of our bedrooms, but with smoke alarms and the chance of fire being low, I hadn’t thought about them since then.
Now, I almost cried in relief at the sight. The window was open a few inches to let the summer air in, but I held my breath as I slid it up, more, more until it was enough to toss the ladder out and me to fit through. The rope was thin and unfurled down the brick to the ground. Chris and I had even practiced going down them a few times, taking pictures of our efforts for his merit badge counselor. Then, it had been daylight and I’d had all the time in the world. There also hadn't been a guy in my living room. With sweaty hands, I climbed out the window and got my feet on the rope. My cell fumbled and I almost lost my grip on it when I saw the hall light turn on.
Oh shit.
He was coming for me and didn’t care if I knew. With the ladder swinging and bumping into the exterior brick, I went down as fast as I could. I hit the ground and ran, my bare feet slapping the sidewalk.
“Hey!” I heard the shout and knew he was at my window. Oh God, he was going to get me. I ran down the street knowing the trees would have blocked me from his view, then ducked between two cars. I squatted down and tried to catch my breath and be as silent as possible.
Would he go down the ladder or go back downstairs and out the front door? Could he even find me?
I needed help. I was in my pajamas, barefoot with a man after me. I had to assume the police were coming. I looked down at the phone in my shaking hand. How had I not dropped it? As I escaped, I must have disconnected from 9-1-1. My fingers were really shaking as I unlocked my phone once again and fumbled to press and swipe to get it to work.
With a shaking hand, I put my phone to my ear. Answer. Answer!
“Emory.”
I almost fainted in relief at the sound of Gray’s voice. While I needed the police, I needed Gray.
“Grey,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong?” His voice went from soft to hard in a second.
“There’s…in my house,” I whispered, unable to catch my breath, looking around. All I could see was the car grill and bumper in front of me, the steps of the house to the right and the empty street on the other side. “Kitchen. He—”
“There’s someone in your house?”
“Yes!”
Gray called to someone, said something, but I was too panicked to follow. “Emory, are you in the house now?”
I shook my head, my hair getting in my face, then realized he couldn’t see me. “No. I ran down the street. I’m hiding between cars. I called 9-1-1 but didn’t get a chance to talk.”
“Don’t move.” I heard car doors slam and I flinched, but it was through the phone. “Baby, we’re on the way. Reed called the police, too. Just listen to my voice. Okay?”
I didn’t know who the hell Reed was, but I didn’t care. Gray was coming. “Okay, but…hurry.”
GRAY