Chapter 2: The Shadow in the Night (Sharon's POV)
The silence in the house is almost deafening, terrifying... Lying in our massive bed, I stare at the clean white ceiling, unable to find sleep. Liam breathes peacefully beside me, already asleep for an hour or two—I've lost track of time. I should be tired, exhausted even, after this moving day... but something unknown keeps me from surrendering to sleep something that i don't know yet.
Maybe it's the excitement. Maybe it's this strange feeling of finally being HOME , yet not quite feeling like this house belongs to me not yet ! why this feeling ? .
I close my eyes slowly, determined to try to sleep.
Then, a noise .
A soft sound, almost imperceptible. A creak, like wood settling... or like someone walking slowly in the living room.
I hold my breath maybe i'm just hallucinating .
Clack. Clack Clack...
Or Maybe not .
Footsteps. Slow. Measured. As if someone were moving cautiously, trying not to wake us.
I open my eyes, my heart pounding. My first instinct is to listen carefully, but silence has returned. Maybe just the house adjusting... or my imagination playing tricks on me. But what if I'm right?
This feeling of being watched refuses to fade...
I sit up slowly, trying not to wake Liam, who is still sleeping peacefully. My foot touches the cold floor, and I shiver—but not from the temperature.
Tiptoeing, I leave the bedroom and descend the winding staircase. Each step creaks louder than I remember.
In the living room, darkness is thick, disturbed only by the pale moonlight filtering through the glass doors. I scan the room, holding my breath.
Nothing.
I look again.
Still nothing...
No shadow in the dark. No intruder. Everything is in place... except this strange sensation that refuses to leave me.
A hand brushes my shoulder, and I jump violently.
— Sharon? What are you doing?
Liam, standing behind me, his face creased with sleep. My heart pounds in my chest.
— I thought I heard... footsteps.
— That's normal, he says with a yawn. First night, you're not used to the place yet. I didn't hear anything.
He's probably right. I suddenly feel ridiculous.
I shake my head and walk to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. I drink slowly, savoring the cool liquid soothing my dry throat.
Then, without thinking, I toss the empty bottle into the kitchen trash.
My gaze stops abruptly.
The pink cigarette pack " VENGANCE " from this morning. It's gone.
I frown. I threw it away here just hours ago. It should be there, buried under other trash. I lift a paper, a banana peel, rummage around for a moment—but nothing.
A chill runs down my spine.
I turn to Liam, hesitant.
— Babe... Did you take out the trash?
He shakes his head, still half-asleep.
— Not yet, Shar. I'll do it in the morning.
I freeze. Then where is the pack?
A long silence stretches between us. Finally, I let out a nervous laugh and close the trash can.
I'm just imagining things. That must be it.
— Come on, let's go back to bed, Liam says, pulling me into his arms. We need sleep, I'm exhausted.
I nod and follow him upstairs.
But once I'm lying down, staring at the darkness of the ceiling, I can't help but think:
If Liam didn't take it... then who did?