My body, mind, and soul were exhausted, but sleep was beyond my reach. My body is too scared to give in to the unknown because it presses down on me. It's both a strangely familiar and terrifying feeling. Whenever someone from my family appears in my dreams, it's never random. There is always a warning because danger is usually nearby. I never imagined that adulthood could come with paranormal messages, but ever since I bought my house and it pulled me in, nothing has felt normal. Every sound or shadow feels like it might be a threat. Every night, I wonder what might happen when I close my eyes.
Tonight is no different. When sleep finally drags me under into its clutches, I find myself in my attic, where, to my surprise, my mom is looking through boxes near the hidden room. Her face is scrunched up as if she is worrying about something. She hurriedly searches through each box, not noticing me standing just behind her. She looks like she is looking for something important, something specific. I watch her for a moment, taking in every detail, and smile when I notice she is wearing her favorite jeans and sweater.
"Mom, what's wrong? I call out to her, more afraid of what she is about to tell me. She stops rummaging and locks eyes with me. The worry on her face never leaves as she walks over to me. She grabs both of my arms. Her eyes are full of fear.
"Roxanne," she says, her voice trembling. "You need to wake up and grab Zeke. Get to the hidden room quickly."
"Mom, what's wrong?" I ask again. "Why do we need to hide?" She doesn't answer my questions. Fear and anxiety are rising inside of me, ready to burst out. My mind is racing through several scenarios; each one is worse than the last. My breath hitches, waiting for her to explain more so I can understand the situation, but she doesn't.
"Please, sweetheart, now is not the time for your questions. I just need you to do as I say. They're almost here," She pleads. Finally, she releases my arms and pulls me into a warm hug, as she quickly strokes my hair like she did when I was a child. "I love you, baby girl, so much. Never forget that," she cries.
"Ok, I will," I reassure her, but I still ask who we're dealing with. "Who's almost here, Mom?" I ask one last time.
"They work for him. They're not nice men. They will hurt you and Zeke," she says tearfully, sobbing. "You're too close to the truth." She leans in, kissing me on my cheek, then vanishes down the stairs.
The dream fades away; I bolt upright in bed, soaked in sweat. My heart feels like it's pounding out of my chest. I grab my phone and charger, then start to shake Zeke awake.
"Zeke, get up. We're in danger. We need to hide now," I whisper, my voice trembling as my pounding heart echoes in my ears. The cold sweat on my palms made my grip on his arm clammy. At first, he mumbles half-asleep and ignores me. I shake him again. The words seem to sink in, because his eyes snap open, showing a flicker of fear mixed with protectiveness. He nods quickly and grabs his phone. Taking my hand, we creep out into the hallway, then swiftly and silently head toward the attic stairs, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on us.
Our sock-covered feet make muffled sounds on the carpeted hallway as we hurry. When we reach the stairs, we run to the top. The sound of the front door being kicked open finds us. We hear it hit the entryway wall with a loud crash, followed by footsteps running through the lower part of the house. Zeke quickly opens the attic door and pushes me inside first. He closes it as softly as he can behind us. We hurry across the attic floor, into the hidden room, neither of us speaking: our silence was the only shield we have. Once inside, we take a deep breath to calm ourselves. We sit on the bed, close together, and listen intently; every sound amplifies in the tense silence.
The room isn't soundproof; we can't move or speak. We sit as still as possible. My mind starts to race with questions. Who is doing this? How long before they find us? Can we make it out of this situation unharmed? Yet, no answers come with the questions. The uncertainty about how we are going to survive this ordeal is gripping me; each second stretches endlessly. Then I remember I have my phone. I can't call anyone, but I can text my dad, Andy. If I tell him we're in trouble, he'll send help, hopefully before it's too late.
I start typing as fast as my fingers will move. "Dad, someone is in my house. They broke in. Zeke and I are hiding. Please send help." I hope that by calling him Dad, he will understand the severity of our situation. It's not a term I have used much when talking to him. I'm still getting used to the fact that he's my dad. I stare at the message on my screen, willing him to see it. Finally, it shows he's read it, and I let out a small breath of relief. He doesn't text back, which is probably a good thing. Zeke looks down and sees my phone; he takes it from me and checks that it's on silent. He places it back in my hand and smiles at me. He's trying to reassure me; we'll get out of this somehow. As we stare at each other, we hear the attic door open, pushed hard against the wall.
Fear grips me tightly like a vice at that simple sound, sending my body into a panic. My lungs feel like they're not getting enough air, making me gasp. Zeke covers my mouth with his hand, trying to keep me quiet so that I don't give away our hiding spot. He raises his index finger over his mouth, signaling for me to stay as quiet as possible. I nod quickly. He gently lowers his hand and wraps an arm around me for comfort. The footsteps get closer, heavier as the intruders search the attic. Knocking boxes over. They stop in front of the hidden door. I grip Zeke's shirt, frightened they found us. I hold my breath, afraid my breathing will give us away. Then one of the men starts talking.
"We've searched the whole house; neither one of them is here. What do we do now?" The man's voice is gruff and deep.
"We keep looking. We have no choice. If we don't finish this job, we'll be the ones in body bags," the second man says.
"Ok, but what's the plan if we find them?"
"We do as we were told. We make it look like a break-in and kill them both," he states in a matter-of-fact tone. My blood runs cold. He said it like it was no big deal. The other guy grunts in agreement, then we hear them both leave the attic. Their footsteps are loud. The longer we sit waiting for help, the more my body shakes in fear. It feels like we have been in the room for hours, when in reality, it had only been a little over an hour.
"Rocky," Zeke whispers. "We need to try to get out of here. Do you think you can make it to your mom's room? We can go out the window and run for the tree line." He was afraid that the longer we waited for help, the greater the chance we have of being caught. I nod. On shaky legs, I stand up and follow him to the door.
He opens the hidden door and looks into the attic; it's clear. We carefully make our way down the stairs into the hallway. We listen for a moment at the bottom of the steps to make sure we have enough time to reach my mom's room. We hear them in the living room and kitchen; it sounds like they are going through everything. It was a perfect time to make our escape. We already knew what he we searching for: the evidence we had gathered. They probably figured if they found it, they would make their boss happy. Since they are on the first floor, we run as fast as possible into my mom's old room. Zeke opens the window, flinching each time it makes a noise. He helps me crawl out of the window first onto the roof. He quickly follows after me. We walk to the edge of the roof and lower ourselves onto the back porch railing. Zeke goes first and then helps me down. After we finally get our feet on solid ground. We run to the tree line for cover, hand in hand. The wet grass beneath our feet soaks into our socks.
Once we reach the woods, Zeke signals for me to lie down beside him so we can blend into the natural surroundings. As we lay there watching and waiting, we notice several blue flashing lights illuminate the night sky as they move down our road towards us. The tension eases, filling me with hope. Though they are still some distance away, they will arrive shortly. The siren blares, nearly deafening the quiet night and warning the intruders that the police were fast approaching. I let out a sigh of relief; Andy had come through for us.
As we watched the house, we saw the men run across the side yard and cut across the road. At first, I thought maybe they were heading to Ted's house, but from our angle, there was no clear view. We watch their figures disappear into the night. Although Zeke is relieved, he is also pissed they got away. I understand how he feels. Not catching them is just another invitation for them to come back and hurt us. Hopefully, the house's cameras capture usable images of the men's faces.
We stay in the woods until the sheriff cruisers reach our driveway, to be on the safe side. We don't want to give our hiding spot away, afraid the men may still be waiting in the shadows somewhere to catch us off guard. As the first cruiser reaches the driveway, we run up to the front of the house with our hands up, so the deputies don't mistake us for the intruders. They have their guns out and are heading into the house when Deputy Henderson sees us emerge from the side of the house. He signals for the others, and they cautiously walk toward us. Once he realizes who we are, he lowers his gun. He tells us to sit on the porch steps and gives us blankets to warm up with. We explain in great detail what happened during the night as he jots it down on his pad.
Deputies and crime scene technicians search the house for any clues or details about who invaded our home. I feel violated every time this happens, as if someone is trying to steal my sense of safety or freedom. Zeke retrieves the footage from our home cameras and hands them over as evidence. Hopefully the intruders were too absorbed in their job to check for hidden cameras. I can't help but think who is directing them and where the person is getting these idiots. Still, I should be thankful the men he found weren't very thorough or competent, or we might already be dead.
As I sit beside Zeke, shaking from the cold and talking to Deputy Henderson, we hear a car speeding down the road. It skids into our driveway. Andy and Sharon jump out and run full speed towards us. You could see the fear in his eyes. Sharon looked concerned but not nearly as freaked out as Andy. I can only imagine what had been running through his head after he received the text. I felt bad for sending it and scaring him, but he was the only person I could trust, and he proved me right. As soon as he walks up to me, I stand up and throw myself into his arms, sobbing.
"Dad, thank you so much. If you hadn't called for help, we would probably be dead," I cry.
"What did you just call me?" He asks with a smile.
"Dad," I sob again.
"I'm just glad they got here in time," he says, hugging me tightly back. After I calm down, Dad and Sharon sit on the porch with us while we wait for the sheriff's office to finish their work. Then the one voice I don't want to hear slices through the night.
"So, Roxanne, what did you do this time?" The voice mocks. I look towards the irritating voice and come face to face with Sheriff Dawson, my grandfather. He doesn't look happy as he takes in all the faces sitting together on the porch.