One thing I hate about mornings is getting up early. And having to be woken up lightly by an unwelcomed random thumping sound outside my balcony is making the outlook of this day absolute hell.
I peeked an eye through my warm silky blanket, glaring at the red light flashing half past five in the morning. I groaned internally having realised it has not been past two hours that I’ve been asleep. Having done an all-nighter to start my assignment should have knocked me out hard, but the annoying sound outside surprisingly stirred me up.
Huffing an annoying sigh, I rolled over to my stomach, burrowing my sleepy head into the gigantic Egyptian-cotton pillows. I tried to catch more sleep, my breathing started to even out and soon found my mind playing a montage of events of what have happened in the past few days of my life. I couldn’t help the involuntary tug of my lips, remembering how those days were mostly filled with Gerald and I sharing somewhat interesting, intimate things. Swoon-worthy things. I sighed in happiness, and felt my body shiver lightly from the chilly morning breeze, or from the delicious tingles that are slowly invading my thoughts.
The sudden rattling sound of my French doors startled me, making me gasp mixed with surprise and fear. What in the world was that? I moved my gigantic pillow from my ear, lifting my head slightly and tried to listen more of the noise, but silence greeted me instead.
Have I just dreamt that? I shut my eyes tightly in resign. It has been a long night for me and it could just have been my mind playing tricks on me. Gravity seem to agree with this, pulling my head slowly back down to the pillows, relaxing slightly like I was on a trance. But my demeanour instantly faded out to alarm and wary when someone started knocking at my doors lightly.
What the heck? My mind went to overdrive, sifting through a list of possible things of why someone was knocking at my balcony doors at this ungodly hour. If this person was a burglar, he was plain stupid! Shouldn’t he be a little inconspicuous when ransacking someone’s house?
I peeled my eyes open in a beat, albeit reluctantly, and started to scan my dim-lit room for any weapon to protect myself. Grabbing the item nearest to me, I slid out of my bed not so gracefully, knocking my knee on the foot of the bed and stumbling slightly with my own left foot. Great start on defending yourself, I chuckled lightly on my clumsiness.
“Sarah”, an almost inaudible sound wafted through in the air. I stopped midway, frozen in my tracks. My chilled body was quickly flushed with panic and terror. Why the heck the burglar knows who I am?
I paced my trembling steps, slowly tiptoeing in shaky legs onto the French doors leading to my balcony. I held my breath in fear, erratically breathing to not give away my whereabouts to my attacker. As I neared the doors, the doorknob rattled again forcefully. I shrieked in surprise, not anticipating that move from them.
“It won’t budge open”, they said in chilled, stern tone.
Almost instantly, cold chills ran up my spine and an unsettling thought popped up in my mind. Shouldn’t they be the one nervous of getting caught and I be the one whose composed and more threatening?
My eyes grew wide upon realisation that I almost dropped the weapon of choice – a photo frame - clutched in my hand. They are not here to steal money! Nor here to stalk me in my sleep! Could they be here to… to abduct me and hold me for ransom?
I hastily stepped back a little, mortified of this development. I clutched the weapon of choice tightly over my head, feeling the sharp edge of it digging in my hand but the rush of adrenaline override the pain. I was prepared to aim the picture frame onto the attacker if they plan to force themselves in.
