The Unkown Caller

Jeremy glanced up at me from across the table, a small smile shaping the left corner of his mouth, like he was sharing a private joke with me and only me. Except, I don't know what the joke is. But do I smile back at him? Hell yeah I do. Hello, a cute guy smiles at you, you smile back. Even if it's one of those, I-don't-know-what-my-teeth-look-like-after-coffee-smiles where your lips remain sealed.

Then you start to send the silent signals, mostly, ASK ME OUT! Okay, desperate, I know.
BZZZZZ
Oh no...

BZZZZZ
Is that my alarm? BZZZZZ
In the middle of class? BZZZZZ

I groan awake, relieved that it is still dark out. My phone buzzes again and I realize it's not the "Imperial March" of my alarm, but the ringtone of phone call. I lean over and slide my finger across the screen, unlocking it.

"Hello?" I manage to say it coherently enough considering.

"Clarissa," Someone breathes my name in response to my question.

Adrenaline starts to course through my veins. My heartbeat thrums in my ears as my heart starts to race.

"Who is this?" I ask, sitting up. I'm awake now. Torn away from my dreamland by the voice I don't immediately recognize. 

No response, which does nothing to quench my fear. My roommate, Jenny, isn't home. I'm alone. It's the middle of the night.

Fantastic...

"Who is this?" I ask again, panic hitching at my voice. If this is a joke...

"Your worst nightmare," The someone cackles. I roll my eyes. That is so cliche, this has to be a joke. I glance at the clock. It's three am. Friday morning. People who stayed at the bars until

last call are just stumbling home. I don't have to be awake until noon. Whatever this is, isn't funny.

"Jenny, if this is you, I swear to God-" I start to say, but I stop when the deep voice starts to chuckle.

"Jenny can't help you. Tell me, do you feel safe?" Well, not at the moment, I can't say that I do. "Are your doors locked, Clarissa?"

I drop my phone. Because when someone asks if your doors are locked, you doubt everything, no matter how many times you checked the locks last night.

Flinging back my covers, I race over to my bedroom door.

I pause, my hand on the door handle. I need a weapon. I reach over to my desk and grab the hammer that lives there. My dad bought it for me for the apartment, claiming he was starting my tool kit for me, aka I have to buy the rest. Yeah, like I'm going to do that.

I open my door quickly to minimize the squeaking, my back against the wall. Peering around the corner, out into my dark kitchen, I hold my breath.

The light from the router gleams like a demon eye, glaring at me from its dark cave in the corner of my living room. The flood lights from the parking lot behind the house blare in through the kitchen window, casting a pool of light on the linoleum floor.