00:00Last night didn't sound like our house. Where we live, it's always the same after midnight.
00:08My parents asleep early, the heat ticking in the walls, the woods behind us pushing their
00:14cold against the glass. The smell of pine and damp earth fills the air, the sound of
00:22the foxes' screams in the trees, and my dad's voice. A comforting rumble as he yells from
00:29bed that it's just foxes. Like that makes it normal to hear a woman being murdered in
00:35the dark. But last night, it wasn't the woods. It was something else. Something that didn't
00:43belong in our familiar, predictable routine. I was still awake, my heart pounding in my
00:49chest. I was standing in the bathroom light when I heard my bedroom door open. Wood dragging
00:57in that slow, ominous way it only does in this house. And someone, or something, walked in,
01:05shocking me with its invasion of our sanctuary. I never heard them walk out. I was left standing
01:12there, my heart still racing, consumed by a burning curiosity about who or what had intruded
01:19into our home.
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