Becca
The key rattles violently against the brass lock, sliding twice off the cold metal before my slick, shaking fingers manage to jam it home.
I throw my weight against the front door, stumbling inside, and slam it shut behind me. The deadbolt turns with a click, but the sound brings zero comfort. It feels like locking a cardboard shield against an oncoming hurricane.
I collapse back against the painted wood, my chest heaving, gasping for air that feels far too thin for my lungs.
The house is dead quiet. It's freezing, dark, and empty.
No lights on. No fire in the grate. Just the hollow, sterile smell of my clean hardwood floors and expensive scented candles, now smelling like a pristine mausoleum.
"God... oh God... oh Jesus..." I sob aloud, the pathetic sound tearing out of my thr
