Passage from The Night She Died by Jennifer Patrick

“…the power flickered off. Outside, the intensifying storm shook the trees and sent pellets of hail clattering against the side of the house. Branches beat against the windows. Flashes of lightning illuminated the bedroom’s dark corners with stark white light. Lara began to think about the basement.

A strange noise, at first a small scratching, like mice behind the walls. Lara held her breath and listened. The noise grew quicker, louder, more abrasive. What was it? It sounded like denim pant legs rubbing together as someone walked. A creak, the wood floors shifting, another creak, louder. Fear prickled her scalp.

She sprang up and felt her way frantically to the door, thinking someone else is up here. Peeking into the hall, she could see nothing until another lightning flash lit the empty landing. Lara stumbled forward, pausing at the top of the steps, the creaking suddenly behind her. A flash and a shadow. Long legs. Thin. A girl? She whirled just as the hallway went dark. The image of the lightning glare swam across her eyes. In a panic, she turned and groped her way downstairs and into the kitchen where she tried to calm her breathing so she could listen. A bump upstairs, a creak. Someone was in the house.

Fumbling along the counter for the phone, she prayed that the lines weren’t out. Finally, her hand closed around the plastic receiver and she lifted it to her ear. A dial tone. Focus. Be calm. Dial. As she heard the ring at the other end, she crept to the drawer where she kept the cutlery and opened it. She felt as quietly as she could for her carving knife.

“Hello?”
“Eric,” she whispered.
“Lara?”
“Could you come over?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think there’s someone in the house. Please hurry.”
“I’ll be right there. Call the police.”

But she didn’t’ call the police. Instead, she pressed her back against the wall, a door to the hall on her right, the kitchen and its opening to the living room on her left. She had two avenues of escape. She crouched there, starting at every noise. Breathe, she told herself. Stay calm. Her fingers ached from clutching the knife. She knew it would take Eric ten minutes at least, even if he drove fast. The floor squeaked overhead. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Should she make a run for it? But Lara found she couldn’t move.”