GENESIS: THE CATALYST

CHAPTER SIX

"Something is rotten in the state of Denmark."—William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 4)

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It had been three nights since the first tap.

Three nights since Maya had been jolted awake by the faint knocking at her window. Since then, she’d barely slept. Each night, she’d lay in bed, eyes wide, waiting for the sound to return.

Tonight, the silence was heavier than usual. The anxiety lingered, gnawing at her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Tap. Tap.

There it was again. The sound that had haunted her since the first night. The tapping at her window, faint but deliberate, sending her heart into a wild rhythm. She sat up slowly, straining to hear over the hum of the house.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was louder this time, unmistakable. Her eyes flicked to the window, but like every night before, she saw nothing beyond the curtain. Just the pale light of the streetlamp outside, filtering into her room like a ghostly haze.

Her hand reached for her phone, hesitating as she thought about waking Kylie again. Her sister had brushed off her paranoia after that first night, convinced it was just nerves, but Maya couldn’t shake it. The unease gnawed at her bones, growing stronger with every sleepless night.

She checked her phone out of habit, hoping for a distraction—anything to calm her racing mind.

It buzzed in her hand. A text.

"Are you paying attention?"

Her blood ran cold. She stared at the screen, her heart thundering in her chest.

Just like the night before, the message vanished within seconds.

Was this all in her head? Or was someone truly out there, watching her, tormenting her?

What did they gain? Doing all this. It was exhausting.

She hesitated, glancing back at the window where the tap had come from. She thought back to the first night, when the tapping had startled her awake and she had peered through the curtains.

That night, she had seen a silhouette.

It had been standing just beyond the glow of the street lamp, a tall, dark figure, watching her. She’d told herself it must have been a trick of the light, but now, as she sat frozen in her bed, the image returned, sharper than ever.

But tonight, there was no silhouette.

The figure was gone, and yet... the tapping had returned.

As the silence settled once more, Maya sat in her bed, wide awake, unable to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

The next morning, Maya trudged downstairs in her uniform, the weight of another sleepless night pressing heavily on her shoulders. The chatter of her family filled the air, a stark contrast to the silence that haunted her room.

Kylie was already seated at the table, scrolling through her phone, barely looking up as their parents spoke in hushed tones. Jake and Mila, were arguing over the last piece of toast, their voices high-pitched and playful. It still ended with them sharing it.

Maya sat down, her eyes flitting to the window in the kitchen, as if expecting to see that silhouette again.

“Morning, Maya,” her mother greeted warmly, placing a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her.

“Mornin',” she mumbled, not really in the mood to eat. Her mind was still stuck on the tapping sound from last night. She pushed the eggs around on her plate, barely listening to the conversation.