Sometime after nine o’clock, the sky slipped from navy into black. Unable to keep my eyes open, I noticed the words on the page beginning to blur. Fatigue wore me down, though I fought to stay awake. A line of storms was rolling in from Rocky Mountain National Park, and every few seconds, thunder cracked and lightning flashed through the blinds.

Starving, I ran outside to the vending machines and bought a pack of crackers and two cans of soda. By the time I returned to my door, a drenching rain was falling from the sky, and the wind gusted, flinging dust in my eyes. As I opened the door and stepped across the threshold, I glanced back at the parking lot. There were only three cars, briefly visible when lightning stoked the sky with a yellowish blue explosion of electricity.

I shut the door and locked it. Storm warnings scrolled across the bottom of the television screen in alarming red. Within minutes, I finished the sodas and devoured the crackers, and, having satisfied my appetite, my exhaustion became complete. I cut out the lights, slipped out of my tennis shoes, and climbed into bed. Nothing could stop my eyes from closing, not even the knowledge that he was coming.

I felt constrained beneath the covers, so I lay on top of them and placed the .357 on the bedside table. I’ll only sleep for an hour, I promised myself. One hour, no longer.

A deafening blast of thunder shattered the sky—so loud, it seemed the storm was in the room. My eyes opened, and I saw the door swinging back and forth and lightning striking a mountain peak. I glanced at the alarm clock: 3:15.

The door is open, I thought, and I reached for the gun on the bedside table but only palmed the smooth surface of the wood. A stabbing pain shot through my left arm, and I jerked up in bed. When I looked down at the floor, I shrieked. A dark figure crouched on all fours.

My mouth turned cottony, and I could think of nothing but running before it stabbed me again. I tried to lunge off the other side of the bed and move toward the door, but nothing happened. It felt as if boulders had been strapped to my arms and legs. Even my fingers were incapacitated, and I fell back, my head sinking into the soft pillow. My eyes began to close as the dark figure stood and moved to the foot of the bed. It spoke to me, but the words melted.

Lightning, black…

Pain and darkness. The throbbing of an interstate beneath me. Muffled jazz music…