"Any news about football?" My father's bored voice sounded from the couch as I pulled the front door open. Jesus, that man did not skip a beat.

"It's too late into the season to even get on the team." I mumbled more to myself than to him, walking straight for the kitchen.

I never liked Tuesdays to begin with, but they were quickly becoming even less enjoyable. The only reason I didn't go over to Sam's, was because my parents would definitely start to wonder where I was going off to if I was even gone on their day off. Who the hell even got Tuesdays off?

In the kitchen I was greeted by my mother, who was already making dinner. Could I just say that it did not smell nearly as good as Sam's food? With a sigh, I opened up the fridge and pulled out a milk jug, pouring myself a glass. Sam was spoiling me. I was now acting more akin to a spoiled brat than anything.

"What does that sigh mean?" She asked, looking at me with narrowed eyes. I was sure that she thought I was sighing due to her food choice. Not that she was too far off from the truth, but I would never be so open about wanting something else. I was just grateful that she took the time to make me anything.

I shrugged. "Nothing, just tired." I lied, leaning back against the counter comfortably.

She lifted one of her naturally arched brows that I had somehow missed in inheritance. Instead, I was forced to suffer with my father's flat and thick ones. "Is something the matter?"

Was something? There was the obvious problem of druggies, but that hadn't been effecting me as acutely within the last few days compared to how it originally was. Was it the fact that Sam seemed to be the only thing on my mind at all times? Or maybe it was the fact that everything was going so well the last few days. When was it all going to blow up in our faces? When would everything fall apart?

"No, like I said, I'm just tired." I settled upon just reiterating what I already said. Mom still looked slightly skeptical, but she dropped it. I was grateful that she did, because I really didn't want to think about it anymore. I tended to get way too deep into my own head sometimes. Lately it had been happening much more than usual.

After mom finished with dinner, the three of us sat down and made the usual small talk. It wasn't that we were totally distanced from each other, we just had a hard time coming up with topics on the spot.

I quickly emptied my plate into the black hole that was my stomach, and set it away into the sink. I trudged up the creaky staircase and plopped down lazily onto my mattress.

After pulling out my phone, I came face to face with absolutely no notifications. I knew that I was very popular. No had to remind me.

However, after an allotted amount of time spent sitting there watching pointless YouTube videos, a text sudden appeared.

Druggie Douche:

The house feels a lot more empty when you're not around.

A smile touched my face as I reread it a million times over. I didn't hesitate to respond, sparking a full-fledged conversation about nothing and everything at the same time.

I spent the rest of the night continuing to watch more random YouTube videos that simply popped into my recommended, and talking to Sam about whatever we felt like. Soon, it started to get dark out.

•O•O•

My eyes were suddenly open. The room was pitch black and there was a vaguely nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why did I wake up so suddenly? And why did I feel so unsettled?

I felt the headphones still settled in my ears, so I carefully removed them, quietly feeling around for my phone. When I finally felt it, I didn't dare turn the screen on, instead I just set it off to the side of the bed so that I didn't have to worry about crushing it. I must have fallen asleep while watching something.

I tried my best to glance around the room but it was too dark to see anything. For once, I wished that I slept with my curtains open.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong no matter how long I tried to go back to sleep. My body refused to move, for fear that I might be caught awake. But what was I scared of? There was nothing really there, so why did I feel that way?

The growing urge to try and turn towards my doorway was near impossible to ignore. It felt like there was something over there, and it was only making it harder to shut my mind down. Clasping my eyes shut, I turned over on my bed lazily, trying to make it seem as though I was still sleeping. I would rather keep up the small gesture than find out if someone was actually there.

I paused for a long time, just trying to regulate my breathing and attempting to work up the courage to open my eyes back up. That wasn't like me, I would never normally get scared of the dark. There was something more going on, there has to be. The longer I thought about it, the more restless I became.

Finally, I pried my eyes open.

I couldn't see anything, but something else happened before I even had to. For the first time since I awoke, I heard a noise. The sound of my bedroom door being pushed open slowly. It groaned loudly, alerting me to something or someone entering the room. Or were they exiting?

My fight-or-flight response quickly kicked in, resulting in my body lurching upright in my bed. The door was pushed all the way open as soon as whatever it was heard my sudden movement. I wished that I was the fighting type, because the moment my bare feet made contact with the soft carpet floor, I realized that there was nowhere to run.

I was trapped between within walls and something menacing in the doorway. I didn't know where it was, because I couldn't even see anything. Was it approaching me? Or was there nothing there at all? For a moment, it was just me and the screaming static of silence.

Then there was a low laugh, causing the sort of chill that traveled like spiders to crawl down my spine. My heart felt like it was both stopping and speeding up at the same time. There was someone there, and they knew exactly where I was as well.

My legs felt wobbly. The darkness was too absolute, I had no chance of seeing them no matter how hard I tried to squint. I was cornered, there was nowhere for me to go.

I took a step backwards, feeling my whole body start to shake. Was that what true fear felt like? Were they going to catch me, hurt me, maybe even kill me? There was nothing I could do.

Hearing the floor creak, I knew that they were coming even closer. I took another step backwards, stepping directly onto something sharp. I felt my leg give out instantly, making me fall back.

There was split second during the time in which I was falling, that a thought occurred to me: I was careless. Ever since I found that note, I had been checking the lock on the front door, and the lock on my bedroom door every night. Except that night. I was careless, and that was my downfall.

A pain erupted within my skull, at first it was a cold sensation, dull and echoing, but then it grew hot. The pain was almost loud enough to subdue the sound of my body hitting the ground. I brought my shaking hands to my forehead, hoping to rid myself of the burning feeling that was left behind. I was too distracted to pay attention to the person anymore.

After a few excruciating moments, my light flicked on, causing me to immediately cower in fear. The feeling of soft hands on my skin forced me to open my eyes.

"Sawyer Jay! What on earth happened to you?" My mother asked, carefully trying to pry my hands away from the wound that I had created for myself.

"I..." I attempted, but couldn't quite decide on what exactly I should have said. I couldn't tell them the truth. It would only cause them danger.

My father was stood in the doorway, looking around the room as though he was trying to find something. Whoever it was that was in there was long gone by then. It was just the three of us, like it should have been from the beginning. How did they manage to make such a quick escape? And how did my father not hear them? I guessed that they did it during those few seconds - maybe even minutes - after I initially hit my head.

"Sawyer?" Mom asked again, looking down at me worriedly. I could tell that she had just woken up based off of her sleepy eyes.

"I-I must have fallen out of bed." I lied yet again, which seemed to be all I ever did anymore. Still, I couldn't get rid of my shaky voice.

After pulling at my hands some more, she finally managed to pry them away from my forehead, revealing blood smeared onto my palms. I had fallen back onto the corner of my bedside table. How heroic of me.

"Aw, Sawyer." She cooed, ushering me to stand up with her. "You really got yourself good."

I did my best to get onto my feet, taking notice of Dad's annoyed gaze. No wonder he was pissed, he just woke up to a loud crashing sound only to find out that his son simply fell out of bed. Not to mention the fact that I was already a pussy in his eyes, so I was sure that it was just icing on the cake.

Mom pushed passed him, guiding me to the bathroom. As soon as the light turned on and I saw myself, I let out a long, well-earned sigh.

There was blood running down my temple from some source beneath my dark hair that I couldn't quite see. So I used one of my blood covered palms to push my hair back from my forehead. The gash wasn't as large as I would have thought it was based off of the surplus of blood coming out of it, but it still didn't look good. And as luck would have it, it was below my hairline - meaning that you could see it if my hair were to move just slightly out of the way.

Mom quickly went to work, and I patiently waited for her to finish. The peroxide caused me to flinch, resulting in mom saying some not-so-nice-things about being a man. I just pouted in response. That was why mom needed her beauty sleep. She was a lot nicer after a full night's sleep.

After a few more minutes of her doing who knew what, she put one of those large bandaids on top of it and pat my shoulder. I looked back at the mirror to see that she wiped the blood away for me, but there was some dried into my hair from when I brushed it out of the way. There was also dried blood still on my hands.

"I think I might just take a shower." I told her, knowing that I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not after what happened. I would just put on a new bandaid after.

"It's four-fifty in the morning, you should just go back to sleep and then shower before school." Mom reasoned, looking at me like I was insane.

"I'm wide awake anyway, so I'll just do it now. I insisted, walking out of the bathroom and across the hall to my room. "I'm sorry for waking you and Dad up, it was genuinely an accident."

Mom sighed, leaning against the doorway with a yawn. "I know, just try and be more careful."

"I will. Goodnight." I said to her, even though it was technically the morning.

"Goodnight, Sawyer." She offered me a small smile before walking over to her own bedroom. The sound of her door clicking shut was what allowed my posture to finally collapse in on itself.

I brought my shaking hands over to my phone, then dug through my closet, grabbing the first outfit I stumbled upon. I reached the bathroom again, quickly turning and locking the door behind me.

I tossed the clothes onto the floor, fumbling as I navigated my phone. As soon as it recognized my thumbprint, I went straight for the contacts, going for my most recently used one.

I didn't hesitate to press the call button, praying that he would be up. I needed him to know what happened, I needed him to tell me what to do.

As I listened to the ringback tone, I caught sight of myself in the mirror yet again. I didn't even realize that I was in nothing but my black boxers and an oversized t-shirt. That was how I dressed almost every night, which was honestly pretty mortifying when my parents saw me writhing in pain, dressed like that.

"Sugar?" Sam's groggy voice asked from the other end of the phone. I must have woken him up. I suddenly felt very selfish.

"S-Sam." I whispered, finally losing the last of my composure. Why did everything have to be so fucked up?

"Sawyer, what's wrong?" His voice sounded more awake now, and I knew he could tell that I was freaking out.

"Sam, t-there was-" I paused to take in a long breath, hoping that it would somehow help to smooth out my shaking voice "-there was someone in my room."

I kept my voice low so that my parents wouldn't be able to hear me, but I also kept it low because I was scared that I might start crying. I wasn't going to give Sam the burden of my tears, so I held them back.

"Who? Are you okay? Do you need me to come over there?" I could hear rustling on his end, as though he was moving around.

"No, t-they're gone now." I informed him, causing the rustling to stop abruptly.

"Sawyer." He said sternly. "Tell me what happened."

And so I did. I told him about the fear I felt, about how careless I was, about the stupid move of falling backwards onto my own bedside table. I told him about how that was what inevitably saved me.

He listened, keeping quiet almost the entire time. I was pretty sure that Sam was blaming himself, but I couldn't force myself to stop. I was scared, I was mad, I was ready to rip my own hair out. And the only person I could talk to about it was Sam.

He was so patient with me. It only made me care about him more.

I couldn't help but feel like it was the spark to the storm.

The first rumble of thunder.

•O•O•