The Overnight Party

Chapter 11

Maya appreciated being home alone. She could shut herself away and lock the world out for a night. Of course, she knew the image of Arilla's lifeless body staring at her from the floor would haunt her, whether she was alone or not. And the ache in her sore muscles were a constant reminder of nearly being ran over. She had spent most of the afternoon after school unpacking the last of the boxes in her room and started working on the living room before giving up and moving on to her homework.

The the lamp sitting on the end table of the couch turned on, the light cast long shadows, twisting and bending into unfamiliar shapes in her new home. The rhythmic click of the grandfather clock echoed through the living room. Maya, sprawled on the living room floor surrounded by textbooks, gnawed on a pencil eraser. Silence, usually a welcome companion during study sessions, tonight felt thick and oppressive. The news report about Arilla's murder flickered on the laptop screen, details blurring as exhaustion tugged at her eyelids.

A thud echoed from the kitchen, sharp and unexpected. Maya's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers fumbled with the textbook, and she dropped her pen.

Suddenly, a sharp rapping sound from the back door splintered the quiet. Maya's heart lurched. It couldn't be Alex — they'd agreed to meet tomorrow after school. Trembling, she crept towards the kitchen, the wooden floorboards creaking under her weight.

At first she thought it was her mother, forgetting something before going back out to her dinner meeting with colleagues from work, but when the door didn't open, Maya climbed to her feet. She crept to the kitchen doorway, her bare feet silent on the cool tiles. The back door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of night air slipping into the stuffy house.

"Hello?" Her voice was a squeak, barely louder than a whisper. The house mocked her with silence. She reached out a trembling hand to push the door shut but saw the faintest glint of metal on the handle – a scratch left behind by a tool. Panic ignited in her stomach.

Someone had been there. Someone had tried to get in.

Fumbling for her phone, she hit speed dial, Officer Lofts' number connecting before she could even catch her breath.

"Officer Lofts," the voice was crisp and reassuring.

"This is Maya. Someone – someone tried to break into my house!"

"Take a deep breath, Maya. Are they still there?"

A sickening thud resounded from the back door, and the knob rattled violently, jolting Maya out of her frozen fear.

"They're getting in!" The words tumbled from her lips, her voice pitched high with terror.

"Maya," Officer Lofts' voice remained steady, "I need you to stay calm. Can you get to a room with a strong lock? Your bedroom, maybe?"

Without waiting for an answer, Maya bolted for the hallway, sneakers squeaking against the smooth wood. Her lungs burned as she reached her room, slamming the door and twisting the deadbolt lock with trembling hands. Outside, the sounds of the struggle continued — heavy thumps and the splintering of wood echoed through the house, each blow sending fresh waves of terror through her body.

Her cell phone was still miraculously connected, Officer Lofts' voice a faint lifeline cutting through the commotion downstairs. Maya huddled against the far wall, her breath rasping in her throat as the doorknob rattled again. She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Officer Lofts – stern, capable, someone who could make the terrifying things stop.

Just then, the house fell deathly silent.

"Maya — you there?"

Maya was silent for a moment. She uttered a squeaky, "Yes, I'm here."

Maya stood up. The house was still quiet. Had they gone?

Before Maya could comprehend the sudden quiet, the lights flickered and died, plunging her into complete darkness. She choked back a scream, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was only one sound in the oppressive silence — a low, rasping breath that was definitely coming from the hallway beyond her locked door.

A horrible image of her mom coming home to find Maya, dead, sprawled on the floor, just like Maya found Arilla, cut into her thoughts.

Instinct took over. She scrambled backward, knocking over a small table in her haste, a crash echoing through the silent house. Desperate for an escape, she fumbled for the window, throwing up the latch. Just as she thrust it open, the hallway erupted in noise.

An earsplitting growl sent shivers down her spine. A shadowy figure lunged through the doorway, silhouetted against the faint moonlight bleeding in through the open window.

"Maya?" The voice was harsh and unfamiliar, laced with menace.

Terror robbed Maya of thought, of reason. Her legs moved on their own, stumbling her backward, away from the grasping hands in the darkness. Her foot caught on something soft and she tumbled, her shoulder burning against the carpeted floor.

As she struggled to rise, the figure advanced, blocking out the faint sliver of light from the window. Maya thrashed wildly, her nails clawing against unseen flesh.