She sat upright, heart racing. It sounded like metal on metal—drawn slowly. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just clutched her blanket and prayed it had been a dream. But minutes later, there was another sound—the low, aching groan of floorboards shifting under weight.
It came from the hallway. She froze. Not even daring to blink. There were no footsteps. Just the creaking. Then silence again. Nothing but her pulse pounding in her ears. Her fingers gripped the edges of the blanket until her knuckles turned white. She didn’t get up. She couldn’t.