Be aware of who you trust, but as well as to be aware to not grow suspicions—otherwise you will fall deeper than where you are right now

I stirred in the middle of the night, jolted awake by strange noises. My body tensed instinctively as my eyes flickered open.

I turned my head to the side—Kennedy’s spot was empty. That’s weird.

Then, heavy footsteps echoed through the house, slow and deliberate. The old wooden floor groaned beneath the weight, each creak sounding almost pained.

My breath hitched.

Quickly, I shut my eyes and steadied my breathing. I couldn’t be caught—not like last time.

The heavy steps stopped right beside me, beside my bed.

I could feel it— the weight of someone looming over me, his presence pressing down like a phantom in the dark. My heart throbbed so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Seconds stretched, unbearable torturous way. The silence between each heartbeat was as if he would launch at any second.

A hand brushed the blankets near my shoulder.

I forced myself to stay still, not to flinch, not to react. Not like last time.

A Heavy weight plumped down on my bed as the mattress sunk down a bit.

“Маленькая, глупая пчелка.” He snickered lowly. Caressing my throat, for some reason squeezing it. I don’t know why but i couldn’t move, I was too afraid to do so.

His fingers curled slightly, not enough to choke but enough to remind me how easily he could. How easily he had before.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, amused. His thumb dragged slowly over the curve of my jaw.

“Ты всегда такая…хрупкая.” He muttered again. Is that Russian? What does that mean? It’s making me go crazy…

Suddenly I had a feeling, the urge to sneeze. No! Why now? Hold it in Alisha!

His finger continued to run gently across my face before he stopped at my lips. His thumb pinching it, making my eyebrow flinch. Oh no…

His movements suddenly stopped.

Silence.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The air in the room thickened, pressing down on me like a heavy fog.

His fingers lingered on my lips, unmoving, as if he were testing me. Watching. Waiting.

I held my breath, praying—begging—that he didn’t notice the slight twitch of my brow. But deep down, I knew.

He always noticed.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, quiet but unmistakable. The kind that sent a shiver down my spine.

His hand moved away from my lips, down my throat, down to my collarbone and stopped there.

My skin prickled under his touch, every nerve screaming at me to move—to do something. But I couldn’t.

His fingers, slow and deliberate, traced the fragile line of my collarbone, as if committing it to memory.

“Всегда пытаешся быть хитрой, маленькая пчелка?” His voice was a whisper, yet it felt deafening in the suffocating silence.

His thumb pressed down slightly, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind me of his control.

My pulse pounded against his touch, betraying me.

He hummed, pleased. “Вот что мне в тебе нравится. Тебя всегда так легко читать.”

What is he even saying??

His words slithered into my ears, sending a chill down my spine. I didn’t need to understand them to know they held amusement—mockery. Like he was playing with his food.

His thumb dragged across my collarbone one last time before he pulled away. The weight of his presence lingered, suffocating.

Then, without warning—he gripped my chin.

Not rough. Not gentle. Just firm enough to make me swallow down a gasp.

“Зайка” His breath was warm against my skin, his voice a dark whisper.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Silence stretched between us, thick, unyielding. Then, his grip loosened, his thumb tracing over my jaw, as if contemplating something.

A pause.

Then, a quiet chuckle.

A slow, deliberate retreat.

The mattress shifted as he stood. Heavy boots thudded against the floor. I kept my breath steady, my body still, even as the urge to break free clawed at me.

The room felt colder in his absence, but the ghost of his touch still lingered on my skin, like an invisible chain keeping me bound.

I waited. Counted the seconds in my head. One. Two. Three.

The floor creaked in the distance—his steps fading away.

Only then did I dare to open my eyes.

Darkness swallowed the room whole, but I knew I was alone now. My chest rose and fell with slow, shaky breaths, my body rigid with the remnants of fear.

I turned my head ever so slightly toward the doorway. Shadows stretched along the walls, unmoving.

He was gone.

But later a loud BANG was heard. Now that’s my head messing with me. Sleep. Just…sleep.

—

Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting fractured beams of light across the room.

I blinked against the dull ache in my head, my body stiff from staying frozen for so long. My fingers curled into the worn blanket beneath me as I tried to ground myself—to remind myself that it was morning now. That he was gone.

For now.

The sounds of movement outside the room made my breath hitch for a split second, but I forced myself to breathe. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

Slowly, I sat up, muscles protesting with every small movement. My throat felt dry, my skin still prickling from last night. I swallowed hard, pushing down the lingering unease as I turned my head toward the door.

It was cracked open.

Had he left it like that? Or had he come back while I slept?

“Morning, Sunshine!” Sophie sang happily.

“Hiii…” I responded groggily.

Suddenly a loud thud was heard.

“What was that??”

“Ahh…It’s probably the two men.” She answered, unamused.

I frowned, still feeling the tension in the air. “The two men?” I echoed, not entirely understanding.

Sophie waved her hand dismissively, her earlier cheerfulness slowly fading. “Yeah, Kennedy and Andy. They’ve been messing around in the barn all morning.”

“Doing what??”

“We were supposed to move since we don’t know if our farm will keep us safe for any longer, but the car happened to not start.”

Won’t start?

Last night the loud bang…was it?— no. Stop thinking like that. We need to survive why would I think that he did something to it?

After awhile, Sophie was done cooking and I went out to the barn to tell men about it.

Walking in, my jaw dropped.

“Haha! I wish I was 50 years younger again, youngster!” Andy happily shouted.

“HOW ON MOTHER EARTH ARE YOU CARRYING THAT WHEEL OVER YOUR SHOULDER?!” I shouted.

Kennedy threw the heavy wheel on the ground and picked up another wheel.

“I’m just not a woman.” He snorted.

“That’s mean!”

“Just kidding, kid.” He groaned and set that wheel to attach it to the car.

“Just muscles. Build some and you’ll be able to lift some—when you’re dead—in your grave, over the ground. Then you can count it as lifting wheels” He blurted out.

I pouted, but gave up on him. Feels weird to talk to him casually after what happened last night.

“Whatever, time to eat” I informed and went back inside.

As I walked back toward the house, my mind kept drifting to the strange feeling that clung to the air. Kennedy’s casual tone, the way he moved around so easily, the way the tension between us seemed to evaporate when it shouldn’t have—it all felt wrong.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This wasn’t the time for second-guessing, especially not with everything happening around us. I had to focus on surviving.

When I stepped inside, Sophie had already set the table. The smell, the aroma of food filled the room, but even that seemed faint in comparison to the tight knot in my stomach.

Sophie noticed my distracted state. “You alright? You’ve been quiet ever since you came back inside,” she said, giving me a concerned look as she placed a plate in front of me.

“I’m fine.” I forced a smile, even though it felt like a lie. I didn’t want to worry her, but everything felt off. Why would the car not start? Why the hell was I even thinking about it?

“Hmm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. We ate in relative silence, though it felt thick with unspoken tension.

I kept stealing glances toward the window, half-expecting something to happen outside. My thoughts kept spiraling back to Kennedy and last night. The strange way he acted, how he’d seemed so… in control. How it felt like there were too many moments where I couldn’t tell if I was imagining things or if I really had reason to be afraid.

I sighed inwardly. I couldn’t keep thinking like this. We had to survive. We had to keep moving forward.

After breakfast, I noticed that the noise outside had stopped, and the barn grew eerily quiet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something worse than anything we’d already faced.