Like To Be You ✓

forty six pt. one

I wake up in the middle of the night. 

The room is pitch dark, and my groggy eyes take a few moments to adjust to it. My hand is asleep when I pull it out from under Tyler, who's in deep sleep, his palm lying on his chest. 

The alarm clock beside me blinks, and after a moment of squinting, I read 04:01. A small groan escapes my mouth as I stretch my legs, throwing one over Tyler's. 

I freeze when I hear a noise.

It's so feeble I could've missed it, but it's there. I hear a light whoosh that seems like it's coming from downstairs. My hand slaps Tyler's shoulder, shaking it. He doesn't budge.

Then I hear a louder thud, like a footstep, and my hand grows frantic as I throw the blanket off of myself. 

"Tyler!" I hiss. "Wake up!"

"What?" He moans sleepily, half-awake. 

"Quiet!" I whisper, reaching for my phone. Another slow step echoes outside in the hallway. Behind me, Tyler is already on his feet, his eyes wide. We exchange a look in the dark. He moves towards the door. 

"No!" I whisper-shout, reaching for him. He puts a finger to his lips as we hear more foot-steps —their volume increasing, the distance between us decreasing ⁠— and he puts his hand over the lock, turning it over painfully slowly. It lets out a low whine. I wince and reach for his shoulder again, guiding him away from the door. 

"Fuck!" I remember. "Mom!" 

"No!" Tyler pulls my hand away from the door, clamping his palm over my mouth as the footsteps linger in the hallway. Outside, the wind blows, screaming against bare branches that scrape against the walls of the house. 

I'm barely aware of calling 911 while shuffling away from the door and towards the bed. It rings for a stretched moment as I chew on my nail, watching Tyler watch the door as he takes careful, silent steps back. 

The footsteps stop outside my door. My chest freezes. 

"911, what's your⁠—" A loud pop shakes the ground, like fireworks bursting right inside my ear, rattling my eardrums. I watch Tyler drop to the ground, his hands covering his ears. Behind me, the window shatters. 

"Hello?" The woman's voice says on the other end. "Sir, ma'am, are you there? Can you hear me?" Her words are muffled, as though my head is under heavy water that presses my skin into my skull, compressing it until it's ready to burst. 

"There's someone in my house," My words sound distant to me. Tyler's still crawling towards me, his head bowed down, and horrible, horrible fear grips me. "He has a gun."

"What is your location, sir?" She says. I tell her everything in a muddle. 

"Okay, sir, are you in a locked room? Do you think you could protect yourself for the next few minutes?" 

"Yeah, the door's locked." I say, clutching the phone tightly.

"Good. Is there anyone else with you?" 

"I—I'm with my friend. Tyler." I whimper into the phone, my hands trembling. "And my mom. Sh⁠— She's in the other room. I don't know if she's safe."

Tyler finally reaches my side. He palms my desk, searching for something heavy. Outside the door, everything is deathly st⁠ill—

No. I hear more footsteps, these ones lighter. Mom. 

"What's your name, sir?" The woman says. 

"Neil." I say. 

"Okay, Neil." She says soothingly, "I need you to find something you can protect yourself with. Anything⁠— a knife, a scissor, or anything heavy. Can you see anything around you?" 

Tyler's turned on the lamp and pulled out a pair of scissors. He stares at the lamp shade, then yanks the plug out of the socket and holds the lamp by its body, gripping it tightly. 

I press a hand to his stomach, searching for wetness. 

"I'm fine," he whispers, visibly shaken. "It hit the window. I'm fine." 

I nod feverishly. 

"There's a scissor." I tell the dispatcher. "And a⁠—a lamp." 

"Okay, that's good." She says. "Can you see a place you can hide? A closet, or under the table or your bed?" 

I hear the light footsteps again. In my ribcage, my heart is racing a hundred miles an hour. 

"Neil? Are you there? I need you to follow what I say." 

"I think my mother's going to check." 

"Your mother will be alright, don't worry." She bullshits me. "I need you to listen to me for the next two minutes, Neil. Hide under the bed, okay? Take your scissors and lamp and hide under the bed. Wait for the police. Retaliate only if he gets close to you. Can you do that for me, Neil?" 

In the hallway, a door opens. Tyler freezes, his body half-hidden under the bed. 

"Neil, are you— Hey!" My mother's frantic shout is cut off by a sharp slap, followed by a thud. 

Whatever I do next is a blur, because all I know is that I'm toppling to the ground, a small, struggling figure under me. The gun lands somewhere close. My hand curls into a fist, the other holding the figure by its hair, and I slam it into his chest, then his stomach, and then the side of his ribs.  

The man is quick to recover. He throws me off with a sudden gust of strength, reaching for his gun, which glints in the darkness, and I think I'm dead, we're dead, we're done for, until—

Until my mother reaches it first, whips it up, and slams it into the side of his head. 

He staggers to the left, and I get up on my feet, gripping him by the throat. In the distance, sirens wail. Behind me, Tyler grips my phone to his ear and presses my mother to his side, trying to shield her despite her protests. 

"Who the fuck are you?" I growl, slamming the man into the wall. "And who the fuck sent you here?" 

My mother switches on the hallway lights. My eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment before I open them again. It takes my brain a moment to register the man in front of me, but then it clicks. 

I know who he is. 

o-o-o

Dun-dun-dunnnnnn!

Any guesses as to who our mystery stalker is? Hint: You don't know his name. 

Okay, okay, very unhelpful hint. You've met him before, but you might not remember ;)

As always, don't forget to vote and comment! I love knowing your thoughts!

Look out for the next chapter. It should be up by next week. 

Have a great day/night!