I turn, walk out of the room, push open the bathroom door and pull the light cord. Everything is as it was here, too. Not a thing out of place. I’ve just my bedroom left to check and for some reason, before I even open the door, I have a feeling I’ll find something. A chill is creeping up my spine and my mouth is dry as I put my hand to the door handle and open it.

I see the bed first. My crisp white bed linen now soaked in red. My stomach tightens, then threatens to turn. Then the wall catches my eye. The same red, streaked on my walls.

There’s blood on your hands.

I hear a door slam. My door? I don’t know. I can hardly think. I can’t breathe. I step back, push my back against the wall and look around me, my hands shaking. I’m trying to unlock my phone, to call for help while I’m not sure if I’m alone. Fear has rendered my fingers all but useless. I’m trembling too much to bring up my contacts list.

Is someone here? Has someone left? And the red? Is it blood? It’s as dark as blood, I can see that. It’s running down the wall, over the fresh white paint. It’s spattered on my headboard. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure it might just jump out of my throat. I catch a hint of something on the air, a smell. Paint, I think. Could it be paint?

Gingerly I reach out, try to touch the red liquid on my bed. It’s cold, thick. I bring my shaking hand to my face and sniff. I was right – it is paint – and I almost, almost sag with relief. But even though it might not be blood on the walls, and on my bed, there’s no doubt what the intention behind it is. And I can’t escape the fact that someone has been here. Someone knows where I live. Someone knows how to get into my house, into my bedroom. Someone wants to scare me.

They’ve succeeded.

I want to leave. I want to rewind ten minutes, come back and find that this is all a figment of my imagination. I don’t want to stay here, like a sitting duck, on my own waiting for the police to come. The tightness in my chest ramps up – it feels like someone is squeezing my heart and lungs and I’m struggling to gasp at the air around me.