The sound of the drill was the first thing I heard when I woke up. It was a high-pitched whine, piercing through the sleep haze, vibrating in my teeth. It wasn't the alarm clock. It wasn't the birds. It was mechanical. It was intrusive. It was the sound of intrusion.
I sat up in bed. The sheets were tangled around my legs. The room was dark, the heavy curtains still drawn against the morning light. The sound continued. It was coming from the living room. It was coming from the wall. The wall where the bug had been. The wall where the wire had been hidden. The wall where the violation had taken place.
I threw off the covers. My feet hit the floor. The wood was cold. I didn't put on shoes. I walked to the door. I opened it. The hallway was empty. The sound was louder here. It was a rhythmi
