Take One

Chapter 1

I tried not to sleep. I really did.

At least that's what I planned to tell the firefighters. I ran over the alibi in my head; even imagining the scenario that would play out when the cops ask me how my house burned down.

I lit a candle in the kitchen, then fell asleep on the couch. I tried not to, but I wasn't feeling well. Cue tears.

It was better than the alternative; better than the truth. If I was feeling bold and went with what really happened, I'd tell them it started with a boy. Here we go. I would say it was a tragic love story. Romeo and Juliet wouldn't even dream of competing.

I'd tell them, in the beginning there was Adam, and there was me. Hollywood hot shot Henry Schwartzman-Redgrave, otherwise known as dad, brought Adam to our home at sixteen years old as his protégé. He'd been part of our family ever since.

For the story to make sense, I would have to admit that I was out of my mind pining for him. Despite him never looking my way, despite me approaching the little sister territory, I drooled over him every chance I got. Every decision I made, there was a tiny, self-destructive voice that would ask what would Adam think?

Then, I'd explain how I held onto my feelings for four years. It's not my fault, officer. I was under the impression that he must have noticed, even a little, since he never thought to date. Maybe he was just waiting for me to turn eighteen. Maybe he was just gathering courage, so he could ask for dad's approval. Boy, was I wrong there. It didn't feel so pathetic until he began seeing Eve. Yes, Eve. The irony wasn't lost on me at all.

To make the long story short officer, I saw Adam and Eve on their date, went home and cried myself to sleep.

This was the part where the officer would ask how my being a loser had anything to do with the fire eating away the drapes above the kitchen window. If I opted to go with the truth, I would also have to admit I wasn't the run-of-the-mill damsel in distress.

I would have to admit that, technically speaking, I wasn't allowed to sleep alone. I would have to talk about the nightmares that moved me. I'd have to explain how I was haunted. I wasn't sure what caused the fire, but if it was anything like my previous dreams, I'd have to guess I started it. After that, I'd get handcuffed and committed against my will. The end.

"I lit a candle in the kitchen, then fell asleep on the couch. I tried not to, but I wasn't feeling well." I repeated to the flames; looking for anything I could use to put out it out.

I did my best not to panic, but seeing the fire crawl to the next curtain, didn't help matters much. Even if this wasn't dad's favorite house, he would probably notice if it was reduced to cinders. I doubted this could be like my other nightmares; where I could explain away the resulting destruction by declaring the interior design tacky.

"Are you planning to put that out?" A smooth, deep voice said from behind me. "Or are you doing that with your mind?"

Sorry honey, meeting in L.A. Pre-production is a mess. I'll be back on Wednesday. For emergencies, call Adam. Love you. Dad.

The message rang in my head a few more times; despite already being sure the voice wasn't one I recognized. Footsteps made their way closer, while I struggled to move from my spot; fully aware I wasn't expecting anyone. This was the beginning of a slasher film, if I'd ever heard one. Granted, Sands Point, New York wasn't exactly known for its crime rate, but someone should have really told the intruder that. I'd never expect Fright Night at mom's suburban home in Salem, Oregon. There was something comforting about only worrying about a few doors and windows; definitely not the case here.