Natalie

Frances sits across from Gerald and insists, “I saw her. I saw her do it. She wrapped the pill in a tissue and slipped it into her pocket. She did it. You have to take action.”

Gerald lets out a slow sigh. “Sorry, we have no proof. Without proof, we can’t take action.”

“Then why do you think she gave me a seizure pill? I didn’t even have a seizure.”

“That’s something we need to ask her.” Gerald turns to me.

My heart pounds. My throat is dry. I am trembling so much I feel like I might collapse.

“Natalie, can you tell us–,”

Before he finishes, a loud crash echoes through the room, like something heavy has fallen.

I jolt awake.

It was a dream. More like a nightmare. Except the last part. The noise which woke me up.

I blink into the darkness, trying to make sense of it. At first, everything is pitch black, but slowly my eyes adjust, and the shape of the room begins to take form. I sit up and glance around. That is when I notice the bedroom door is slightly open.

I am sure I closed it before falling asleep.

I walk to the door and peek into the hallway. Nothing. No sound from downstairs. No voices. No footsteps. I cross the room and pull the blinds aside. The backyard is still. The garden beds are untouched, the fences on both sides are steady. At the far end, the trail curves toward the stream, and beyond that, the woods remain quiet and still. I know I heard something. I woke up to a loud noise. But now, there is no sign of it.

No one believes me when I say someone’s been here while I’m alone. It happened seven times in the last two weeks. Either I hear a voice, like footsteps, doors opening or closing, or something falling. Then, I noticed misplaced items around the house. I have OCD, not like those people who throw around OCD like it’s some trendy label. I honestly have it. When things are out of place, it pains me. There’s no way I would leave a drop of coffee on the counter or place a coffee cup in the sink without putting it away properly. Someone has been here, for sure, doing this.

I walk back to the bedside table and reach for my phone.

It is gone. Again. I know I placed it on the table before falling asleep. I had been watching TikTok videos and set the phone aside as I started to drift off. And now it is gone. This is the second time it has disappeared while I was sleeping.

First, it was footsteps downstairs; now, they’re much closer. Too close to ignore. A stranger is in my room, watching me as I sleep. A chill runs through me at the thought. They haven’t hurt me yet, but they’re drawing near.

When it first started, I thought it might be Lauren. She has always enjoyed pranks. It seemed like something she would do. But that idea fell apart when she was admitted to the hospital with back pain and high blood pressure. She can hardly walk with her pregnancy, let alone sneak around the house.

Next, I suspected Bethany. She is the only one besides Mason and me who has a spare key. But every time something happened, I called her right away. Most of the time she answered the phone, and I could hear the background noise. That ruled her out.

I even considered Mason for a moment, but it did not make sense. Why would he do this to me? The events have been happening for two weeks, almost every other day. With his job as a manager, he cannot simply leave work whenever he feels like it.

My exes also crossed my mind, but they are all settled now. They have moved on. There is no reason for them to come after me.

Then I started to wonder if it could be a stranger. Someone hiding in the house. I had read stories like that before. But Mason and I searched every corner, even the attic. We found nothing.

Lately, I have started to wonder if Jaime might be involved. Could she be? She was at work whenever this happened, but maybe someone else is helping her.

I do not know what to think anymore.

All I know is that someone is trying to scare me. And I will admit, it is working. But only for now. I am not backing down. I will find out who is behind this. And I will put an end to it.

As I stand there thinking, I hear footsteps downstairs.

Is Mason already home? Maybe it’s him downstairs, not an intruder. With everything that’s been happening lately, my overwhelmed mind jumped to conclusions and assumed it was the intruder again. I remember getting home around noon, after visiting Lauren at the hospital. Maybe I fell asleep harder than I thought.

I open the bedroom door and step out into the hallway. The moment I do, everything goes quiet. It’s not Mason. It’s the one who’s been playing these games with me.

I move to the next room and peer through the blinds. There’s no car in the driveway, so Mason isn’t home. I glance down the street, scanning for parked vehicles. The street is still and empty, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun as it filters through the green leaves of the trees lining both sides of the road.

I make my way downstairs, moving quickly. Straight to the front door, I check the lock. It’s secure. I open the door, step onto the porch, and look around. Nobody’s out there. As I glance back inside, I catch sight of the clock. It’s only 4.30. I walk into the kitchen and check the back door. It’s closed, with no sign of anyone.

Then I see it.

My phone. Sitting on the kitchen counter.

I grab the phone and call Mason while pulling open the door and scanning backyard. “Were you here?” I ask when he answers.

“No,” he says.

“I heard noises again, and my phone was taken from the bedside table and left in the kitchen.”

“You’re dreaming again,” he says, laughing softly.

“I’m not!” I snap, the anger rising inside me.

He senses my frustration and softens his voice. “Is the door closed when you get up?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you left the phone by the bedside? Maybe you left it downstairs.”

“No, I didn’t!” My voice rises. “I was watching those damn TikTok videos, then I fell asleep. It was right there.”

He pauses, probably thinking of what to say. “Last few days, you’ve been exhausted. Maybe you need some rest. Why don’t you call in sick today?” His voice holds concern, but it only makes my blood boil.

“So, you don’t believe me?” I bite back.

“I believe you. I do. But sometimes, a day off helps.”

“Thanks for the help,” I snap and hang up the phone, my anger still simmering.

I make two more calls after that.

First, I call Bethany to see if she’s been here. She doesn’t pick up, but texts back, saying she’s busy at work and will call me on her break. Then I call Lauren. She sends me a picture of her with Logan on her chest, along with a text saying she is at the nursery feeding him.

From the backyard, I walk through the side of the house to the front to see if the neighbours are home. Both sides are empty. No cars in the driveway – they’re not home.

Back inside, I search the house from top to bottom. Every closet. Every shelf. Under the beds. Inside cabinets.

Nothing.

I double-check the locks and return to the room, a nagging feeling that the stalker is still inside. I refuse to let them see that I’m scared. I lie in bed, shifting slightly to make it seem like I’ve settled in, and their presence hasn’t affected me. But my eyes are wide open, staring at the door, and my hands are gripping my phone tightly.