Hamilton could not breathe. The
door had opened one inch and stopped. He could feel eyes peering in at him. He
waited ten seconds. He was crippled by fear. The door creaked open another
inch. He was shaking and his mouth felt like sandpaper.
The door opened another inch. He stared at the darkness
between door and frame. The darkness stared back. Fifteen seconds passed.
Hamilton lay silent, trying to think of something. Anything. His mind slowed
enough for one cohesive thought.
I am not going to take this lying
down.
He sat
up abrutly and the door slammed shut. He threw off the covers and wrenched open
the door. He groped for the light switch and flicked it on, bathing the room in
glorious light. Adrenaline poured through his veins and his hair stood on end.
Hamilton swept the room with his eyes and his fists at
the ready. The room was empty. His fists fell to his sides. He ran to the door
to make sure it was still locked. Both the deadbolt and knob were locked, just
as he had left them. Then he walked cautiously to the windows. With adrenaline
still coursing within him he checked their locks. They were locked tight.
Hamilton ran his fingers through his hair and put on his glasses. He looked up
at the apartment across the way.
The figure had returned to his window. His face remained indistinguishable
from the surrounding darkness. Hamilton stared up at him and he seemed to stare
back. Something about the figure’s stance showed satisfaction. The figure withdrew.
Hamilton continued to look up. He waited for five minutes but neither the
figure nor the strange lights appeared.
Hamilton did not go back to sleep that night.
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