An absolute silent moment passes without any of us moving a muscle.
"What the hell?" Karlie whispers so quietly that if it wasn't for the absence of sound in the apartment, I wouldn't have heard her.
I scramble through the darkness, with Ash close behind me, to reach the kitchen counter, extending my hands in front of me to feel for the stove—thanking God it's propane. The moment my hand comes into contact with the dial, I don't waste time to turn it. A warm luminous glow sparks from under the stovetop and I am no longer blinded by the dark.
That familiar moment of one light source coming to life against an entirely dark room comes to pass. The particles in the air are blasted by that single light—in this case, the propane stove—and I watch them float around me slowly, giving the familiar room an evil foreboding.
