Three hours till work. God knows how I’m going to get through the day on zero sleep.
Andrew’s job as an Ad Exec wasn’t physically taxing, but it did require concentration. The project he was working on at the mument for a Soda company was especially important – the rebranding of a nationally-recognised product. The stress of last night’s events was a concern he could do without.
Andrew took a deep breath and closed his eyes. If there was any chance of getting an iota of sleep, he would need to clear his mind. He needed to forget that he had allowed an adolescent bully to take his trainers as if he was some helpless child and not the successful family man that he was. The humiliation weighed down so heavily that Andrew felt like his skull may split open, spilling the memories of his cowardice all over the pillow.
4:40AM.
The minutes flew by and Andrew’s mind flittered between numb consciousness and troubled sleep. His waking thoughts were so vivid that they merged seamlessly with his dreams, to the point that he had no idea whether he was asleep or awake.
5:01AM
Noise. From downstairs.
Andrew’s eyes snapped open.
He was sure the noises had been real, that he had been awake to hear them and not simply imagining things in his sleep. It sounded like a door opening.
5:13AM.
Another sound.
Somehow, Andrew had snoozed another ten minutes, the beckoning embrace of sleep managing to override his grasp on reality. But now he was fully awake, sat up in bed as he listened to yet more sounds from downstairs.
Footsteps.
Someone was inside the house.
Andrew heard another sound, this one closer. He realised it was just Pen snoring, but it was no relief. There was someone inside his home.
Someone rifling through our things.
Andrew summoned the courage to get out of bed, reinforcing himself with indignant anger at someone invading his family’s privacy. Greasy Chinese food worked its way up his gullet as a thick, syrupy mixture of fear and loathing took a hold of his body. His legs wobbled as he set them down on the soft carpet. There had been no more sounds from downstairs, but Andrew was sure that there had been a break in. His thoughts now turned to what the result of that would be.
Have they cleared us out? Taken everything?
Andrew’s mouth filled with saliva. He had to swallow several times as he exited the bedroom into the unlit landing. Bex’s door was open, as usual, and he could not fight the urge to look inside and check on her as he passed by.
Thankfully, his daughter was still asleep, snoring softly in an identical way to her mother. She was tucked up beneath her plush duvet and had not been woken by the noises downstairs.
Good. Maybe I can get everything cleaned up before she wakes up. I can reduce some of the shock.
Andrew reached the end of the hallway and looked down the stairs, cocking his head to listen for more sounds. He could detect nothing. A slither of hope told him that maybe he’d imagined it all, and that the scary movie – and his altercation with Frankie – had just spooked his anxious mind into creating yet more scenes of danger.
He jabbed the switch at the bottom of the stairs and blinked as the light filled his adjusting pupils. The downstairs hallway was undisturbed. The photos on the wall were still in place and his grandmother’s bureau was still locked tight.
So far so good.
Andrew moved over to the living room door and paused outside of it. This was the room with the television, DVD player, and most other things worth stealing in the house. If anything was missing, it would be from this room.
And if anybody is still inside, then they’re most likely to be in this room, too.
Andrew took a deep breath and pushed open the door, clutching the handle tightly as he turned it. A smell hit him as he entered the darkness of the room: a bitter, salty odour along with something more acrid. Andrew wrinkled his nose and tried to identify it.