Serial

Chapter Five

When I heard the knock on my door that morning, I didn't think anything of it. I'd just finished pulling on my tights and leotard, and was looking for something to cover up with when three sharp raps echoed through my apartment.

I glanced over at the clock. 7:15am.

Without giving it a second thought, I called out, "Come in!"

Continuing to rush around my room, I grabbed my things for class, while simultaneously twisting my hair up into a bun and pushing pins forcefully into my scalp. It didn't even hurt anymore. Not after so many years of wearing my hair this way. By this point, I was pretty sure my head was desensitized to the torture. Either that, or I was a glutton for punishment.

Several minutes went by before I realized the door hadn't opened or closed. And nobody had announced their presence. Had they not heard me? Were they waiting in the living room? The only sounds in the apartment seemed to be coming from me, which was at first comforting and then unnerving.

"Zhara, you there?" I yelled, snatching up my bag and leaving my room. As I made my way down the shadowed hallway, it dawned on me that Zhara didn't usually stop by this early. I loved the guy, but promptness wasn't exactly his strong suit, and he was always running late. Which meant it was unlikely that he was the one visiting me forty-five minutes before we were expected at the studio.

I slowed my step and tried to be quieter as I moved down the hall. As I approached the entrance of the living room, I peeked in, searching for anyone who might be waiting inside.

But it was empty.

"Weird," I muttered, and marched over to the front door.

When I yanked it open, I was again met with nothing. Even the courtyard was quiet at this time of the day. The early birds had already left to get in some extra studio time and the night owls wouldn't be dragging themselves out the door for another fifteen minutes or so. All was quiet.

A soft breeze made its way through the air and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to take in the scent of flowers that it brought along with it. I tried to enjoy the moment, since I knew it might be the only relaxing one I got for the day.

Then, with a sigh, I opened my eyes again and began to close the door, but stopped short when I heard a noise. Surprised by the sudden sound, my head flitted around nervously as I took a step back into the safety of my apartment.

"Ahhh!" a guy yelled, jumping out from where he'd been hiding just out of my view.

I screamed, and tried frantically to shut the door on my attacker before he could get to me. Unfortunately, I hadn't been prepared for the ambush and he managed to get an arm inside before I could close it completely.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up! It's me, Emmy. Don't take my arm off!"

That's when I noticed that the hand on my side of the door was holding a stack of papers, and not a weapon. And unless he was trying to threaten me with papercuts, I most likely wasn't in danger.

After a few more pleads, I was finally able to place the voice—and the realization only made me angry. I contemplated the consequences of giving the door another good shove, but decided that doing so had the potential of hurting me more than him. And what would be the point of that? So instead, I stepped back and let the door swing open, watching as Zhara fell into my entryway.

"What. The. Hell!" I said, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared him down. My body was still tingling with fear and I was thoroughly pissed.

Zhara gave me the kind of guilty look a little kid gave his parents when he knew he'd done something wrong but thought he was too cute to be punished. Luckily, I was immune to his cuteness, and only glared back at him.