Stranger At My Door

10. Unseen

My hands trembled as I tidied up, each motion feeling mechanical, disconnected from the whirlpool of thoughts spinning in my mind. The locks clicked into place as I double-checked them, but the sense of safety I was grasping for slipped through my fingers like smoke. The blinds were drawn, but even with everything sealed up, it still felt like someone—or something—was watching me from just outside.

Amber kept her distance as we got ready. Normally, she'd joke around, make silly comments, but tonight she stayed quiet, sensing my mood.

When the taxi finally pulled up, its headlights cast long shadows that stretched unnervingly across the yard. I hesitated at the door, my breath catching in my throat. The metal handle felt cold and solid under my grip, but stepping outside felt like crossing a line—a line I couldn't uncross. The memory of the break-in flashed in my mind. Whoever it was... what if they were still watching?

Amber rubbed my shoulders, giving me the boost I needed to step out of the door.

The taxi pulled up outside The Old Swan, the familiar sound of the jukebox playing old rock music drifting faintly from inside. But the normality of it only made the unease in my chest tighten. Amber waved the pack at me as we got out of the taxi.

"Want one?" she asked, her voice calm, steady.

I took the cigarette, my hands shaking as I lit it. The flame flickered for a second before catching, casting small shadows that danced across my face.

Leaning against the wall beside her, I scanned the street again. The dim glow of the streetlights barely kept the darkness at bay. The shadows seemed to ripple, shifting slightly in the corner of my vision. I blinked, telling myself I was imagining it. But they didn't stop moving.

I took a drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling into the cold air, but the tightness in my chest didn't ease.

"So, I say we get some drinks and decide what we're going to do. I don't think the weekend's good enough—it's too far away," Amber said, shivering slightly from the cold.

"I mean, it's Friday tomorrow," I said, smiling slightly.

"Is it?!" Amber turned to me, her eyes wide.

I laughed, rolling my eyes, but something from the corner of the car park caught my attention. A can rolled from between two parked cars. I told myself it was just the wind and turned my focus back to Amber.

"Well, what if we skip sixth form tomorrow and go straight to Moulding Springs? I don't think we should wait—we need answers!" she said, taking the last drag of her cigarette and tossing the butt into the darkness.

"Do you think someone's watching us?" I asked, twisting round again. The feeling of unease crept back over me, not really taking in what she had just said.

Amber glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "No, Sam. No one's watching us." Her words were confident, but they barely registered. My pulse was thundering in my ears again.

That creeping sensation across my skin—like eyes were on me—returned.

There it was—that faint sound, just at the edge of hearing. Footsteps? No, it had to be the wind. But the sound came again, soft and deliberate, like someone stepping lightly across gravel. My stomach churned as I listened, my breath catching. The shadows under the streetlights flickered, shifting unnaturally, as though they were alive. I blinked hard, forcing myself to look away, but every time I glanced back, the shadows seemed to have moved, twisting into shapes that didn't make sense. My mind felt like it was playing tricks on me.

I took another drag, trying to steady myself. "I swear I keep hearing something. Like... footsteps."

Amber exhaled, watching me carefully. "Probably. We're outside a pub, on a street. I swear, living up in that isolated house is no good for you," she said, brushing it off.