Page 6 of Keeping Knight

But I make it to the fourth-floor without incident, albeit a little out of breath from rushing up the stairs faster than I usually do. Once I’m in the well-lit hallway, I let out a little sigh of relief.

At my door, I unlock the doorknob and deadbolt before letting myself in. The lights are all off, which isn’t unusual, since I often forget to leave a light on when I leave.

I should get one of those smart plugs, I think. Set a timer so the living room light always comes on at sundown. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about leaving the light on at all.

The first niggle of fear comes when I flick the light switch and nothing comes on.

Frowning, I hit the switch a few more times. Nothing.

But the bulb could have blown. When’s the last time I changed it, after all? I can’t even remember. So it’s not a surprise that it’s blown.

Some light filters through the blind on the living room window; not a lot, since they’re meant to block most of the light, but enough for me to make my way across the room to the lamp beside the couch.

Except the lamp beside the couch doesn’t work, either.

The fear isn’t a niggle anymore. It’s right there, fully-grown.

My pulse jumps. Cold prickles race across my body. A terrible dread closes in, cold and suffocating.

But it’s nothing. Just a fluke. Lights stop working all the time. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong.

Besides, my door was locked. If someone had broken in, I’d know.

With that reassurance in mind, I square my shoulders and reach into my purse for my phone. Once I retrieve it, I press the button to turn on the flashlight and hold it up to brighten the room.

At first, everything looks normal.

Then something moves. Something big.

A second later, a heavy weight crashes into me, knocking me to the ground. All the air in my lungs whooshes out, leaving me gasping.

My phone is wrenched out of my hand and flung across the room.

Even as everything is still registering, a large body climbs on top of me, pinning me down.

Terror like nothing I’ve felt surges through me.

I try to scream, but all that comes out is a breathless wheeze.

A hand comes over my mouth; hot and damp and smelling of sweat. The man—I think it’s a man, given his size—digs his fingers into my cheek and jaw in a punishing grip.

As realization hits, I start fighting. Wriggling. Bucking. Kicking. But the man is too big. Too heavy. I can’t get him to budge.

Panic claws inside my chest.

My heart feels like it’s about to explode.

No! a terrified voice cries silently. No! This can’t be happening. Not here.

But it is.

Someone’s inside my apartment. On top of me. Suffocating me.

Do something! the voice begs. Anything!

So I keep fighting. Struggling. Even though nothing I do seems to work.

My head is getting fuzzy from lack of oxygen, and bright spots edge into my vision. I look up into the face of my attacker, but all I see is a dark mask, covering everything.