ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢: ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

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Anna Beth woke up on her couch a few hours later from a sleep she didn't remember falling into. Her oven clock blinked 2:47, dimly taunting her. She rubbed her face and walked to the empty kitchen, scanning the pale eggshell cabinets through hazy, sleep-clouded eyes. As she gazed at the dimly lit liminal space about her, she saw a handwritten note taped to the refrigerator written in swirling script. The paper had been torn from a pocket notebook of some sort and read: Apartment 14-F. Call me: 555-2041. -Casey with a hand-drawn heart at the end. She smiled and thought about the time they had spent together earlier that night. What she could remember of it, at least. And she smiled. A warmth filled her chest as she thought about Casey, a comfort she couldn't quite understand. Anna Beth set the note on her counter beside the sink. "No point in calling tonight," she thought aloud. She smiled again at the thought of Casey setting her to sleep, holding her, and laughing with her.

Her fond imaginings were cut short at the sound of a dull, distant thud in another room.

Someone was in her home. Slowly, she opened one of her kitchen drawers and pulled out the first knife she could find. It was long. Sharp. Gleaming in the lamplight. There was another, louder thud. Startled, she looked up and realized it was coming from her bedroom. Anna Beth crept toward the source of the sound, the knife held in front of her. Slowly, she walked around the counter and made her way through the maze of furniture not yet placed, and boxes not yet unpacked.

She stopped in front of the door to the bedroom. Sweating. This is it, she thought. She tried to slow her breathing, to steady her hands as she grabbed the door handle and turned.

She burst into the room and blindly swung. Her knife struck flesh, spraying warm, arterial crimson across the colorless room.

Shit.

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