Fourteen Days by Steven Jenkins
Prologue
He sat on the edge of the bed and convulsed back and forth, staring at the door handle.
After several minutes of dead silence, with only the sound of his heartbeat thumping, he heard gentle footsteps on the landing, outside the door. His shallow breath and his narrowing vision had brought him to the edge of passing out. He struggled to stay focused, watching for signs of movement under the door. Helpless to move from the bed even to hold the door shut, he sat, his muscles clenched to the breaking point.
The footsteps from the landing vanished, but Richard was nowhere nearer to moving. He had never been so petrified in all his life. Nothing before today could compare to it. Everything else seemed trivial, a walk in the park.
Suddenly it occurred to him: he was no safer inside the spare room than he was on the landing. Surely she could move from room to room without the worry of closed doors. The notion made him examine the room, corner to corner, ceiling to floor, for signs of her.
The bedroom was deserted.
All that dwelled there was a single bed, several boxes of junk, and a small wooden chest of drawers. In addition to the sound of a car passing outside and a dog barking in the distance, he could smell the damp old clothes Nicky had stuffed into a charity bag.
And taste the rancid fear in his mouth.
He began to slowly crawl backwards onto the bed, all the way to the headboard, to gain a better view of the room and door. He pressed his bare back against the cold surface of the wooden headboard. But the ice-cold sensation on his skin didn’t bother him. His only concern was the door.
Tap…Tap…Tap.
Did he just imagine it?
Did his petrified state plant the sound in his head?
Or was she still behind the door? Still waiting?
Taunting him?
His body tightened even more, and he bit down hard, unconcerned with chipping his teeth. His frantic breathing was now confined to his nostrils. His vision started to blur as his breathing become more and more erratic.
Please leave. Please leave. Please leave. Please leave. Please leave. Please leave. Please leave…
The light of the room faded into darkness, and he passed out.
Chapter 1
Day 1: Tuesday
Richard Gardener was wide awake, watching the clock on his bedside table turn to 5:59 a.m. Despite being a workaholic, he hated the sound his alarm made. He would always wake just before it sounded and switch it off. But today Nicky had purposely failed to set it.
He watched the digital display turn over to 6:00 a.m., with no horrid alarm wail. The silence was deafening. Staring at the time, he couldn’t help but remember the events of yesterday. At the office. That morning from Hell. He tried to shake off the memory, but it was embedded in his mind.