Chapter 5

Chloe didn't waste any more time. She put her phone on silent.

First, she texted Mrs. Gable downstairs.

Mrs. Gable had a spare key to our place.

Our parents had left it with her years ago in case I lost mine on the way home from school.

Chloe typed rapidly: "Mrs. Gable, if the police come, please give them the spare key. Do not come upstairs to knock on the door."

After sending it, she sent a location pin to our dad.

"Dad, Toby is staying over at our place, and something is wrong. Stella and I are locked in the bedroom. If I don't answer your call, call 911 immediately."

After doing all this, she kept her phone screen on the 911 dial pad.

Her hands shook violently as she pushed the study desk against the door.

The floor of the old apartment was uneven, and the desk legs scraped against the wood, making a sharp, screeching sound.

With every push, she stopped to listen to the noises outside.

The living room was silent.

It seemed as if Toby had really gone to sleep.

But I knew he hadn't.

Monsters like him were experts at waiting.

Chloe then tilted the small wardrobe to wedge it against the door.

She dug out a pair of scissors from the drawer and slid them under her pillow.

Then, she wrapped me in the blanket.

"Stella, if something really happens, hide under the bed."

I shook my head.

"I want to stay with you."

Chloe's eyes welled with tears.

"You're only six."

"A six-year-old can call 911 too."

I gripped her hand tightly.

"I won't sleep."

"I'll never sleep that heavily again."

Chloe stared at me, stunned.

I knew I had let something slip.

But she didn't ask. She just pulled me into her arms.

The clock on the wall ticked away.

At 1:00 AM, the summer cicadas outside stopped chirping.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from the living room.

My entire body froze.

Chloe immediately switched off the nightlight.

Darkness swallowed the room, and then came the footsteps.

One step.

A pause.

Another step.

And finally, they stopped right outside the bedroom door.

The doorknob was slowly pressed down.

Once.

It didn't open.

A second time.

Still didn't open.

Chloe placed one hand over my mouth and tapped the call button with the other.

The call connected. She kept her voice incredibly low but spoke with absolute clarity. "Someone is trying to break into my bedroom."

"My six-year-old sister and I are trapped inside."

"The address is Oakridge Townhomes, Block 2, Unit 3, Apartment 4B."

"The man outside is Toby. He's our neighbor. He's a grown man."

The dispatcher told her to stay on the line.

Do not hang up.

Do not go near the door.

A few seconds later, a thin scratching sound came from the keyhole.

Like a piece of metal scraping against bone.

Chloe whispered, "He's picking the lock."

The noise outside stopped abruptly.

Toby called out softly, "Chloe?"

No response.

He spoke again. "Are you on the phone?"

"Did you misunderstand me?"

"I was just worried about you guys. I wanted to check in."

My tears fell onto Chloe's palm.

Chloe spoke to the dispatcher, "He's trying to lure me into opening the door."

"He might have tools."

Toby's tone completely changed.

"Chloe, are you guarding against me?"

"I'm sleeping in your living room, and you lock the door on me?"

Chloe held me in a death grip.

The next second, the door was slammed hard from the outside.

The study desk skidded backward.

I shook with terror.

Chloe bit her lip, forcing herself not to scream.

"He's throwing himself against the door," she told the dispatcher.

"Please hurry."

Outside, Toby let out a low curse.

His voice didn't sound high-pitched or childlike at all.

He rammed the door again.

The wardrobe tilted, and the door frame groaned.

The third hit.

The latch cracked, revealing a sliver of an opening.

Chloe grabbed the scissors from under the pillow and blocked me with her body.

The man outside was panting, his voice chillingly cold.

"Open the door."

"Don't make me force my way in."

On the fourth strike, the door swung inward violently.

The desk was shoved back half a foot.

A small hand reached through the gap, gripping the edge of the door.