1 Evie Marie Lewis (2/2)

Something unusual happened that day, and now that I reflect on it, I realize how seriously my mother must have been affected by that news to discuss dad's work affairs at home and in such a loud voice.

”Charlie, she threatened to kill your family if you didn't stop looking for her,” I heard my mother's angry voice coming from my parent's room. It made me stagger. It wasn't unusual for Dad to get threats, but mom's reaction was what had stunned me. She always encouraged my father to pursue cases, yet there she was, infuriated that he wasn't stopping.

”Luna... I can't. I know I can protect you!” I smiled as I moved away from the spot.

They would figure out their problems, I assured myself and went back to whatever I was doing, I don't exactly remember what.

I had never feared that someone would harm us because we had Dad. Who would dare to stake their life to harm one of Charlie Lewis's loved ones? I went to sleep feeling safe and sound every night of those sixteen years.

That night I woke up feeling the need to relieve myself.

The thing about older houses is that... it settles. As a child, I had believed that little noises were caused due to paranormal entities, but as I grew older and more comfortable with my home, I realized that a small step on a loose spot could produce a sound from another part of the room. Sometimes vibrations from another room could make it sound like the door was rattling. Therefore, despite my upbringing, I almost always ignored the light sounds emanating from the house.

I couldn't tell the difference between the groans of the foundation of the house and the infrequent padding of footsteps and creaking of doors. Maybe, I was sleepy... maybe I was too comfortable with the identity of my parents and the security that nothing bad could ever happen to me. I was stupid enough to ignore statistical figures showing the number of crimes taking place on a regular basis.

Knowing my father as a light sleeper, I had always found a way to make the least bit of noise as I moved. As I locked the bathroom door behind me, I felt my heart start to pound. There was nothing amiss in the situation, just a sudden bout of adrenaline rushing through my veins for no particular reason.

The curious thing about human understanding of situations is very similar to Wordsworth poetic theory—”emotion recollected in tranquillity”. As I closed my eyes to relieve myself, I remembered the moment my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the hallway. I had looked down to the first floor momentarily before rushing to the washroom, but I had seen a solitary figure on the corner of the stair. The stillness was almost mechanic and in the darkness, indistinguishable from the architecture.

Breath heaving and eyes gaping at nothing, I sat there for a long time.

'As a rational human being— one who is trained to defend themselves, what should I have done at that moment,' I wondered.

Unable to answer that question, I just sat there, trying to gauge the amount of time it would take the dark figure to make their way up the stairs without making a noise. I tried to figure out what their motive would be because for the life of me I could not imagine a robber trying to break into one of Chicago's top detectives' home.

”Charlie, she threatened to kill your family if you didn't stop looking for her,” it replayed in my head over and over again. She was going to kill us.

I stared at the locked door and wondered how long it would take her to come to me.

My grandparents never locked their door and it was right in front of where the staircase met the hallway. She would probably go into that room first.

They were deep sleepers. They would not wake-

*thud*