I quickly cleaned up my workspace and headed for the staircase along the back of the building. My muscles screamed with each step. A hike yesterday, crappy sleep, and four hours of restoration work might’ve been overdoing it a little bit.

As I reached the top step, I froze. I hadn’t left the door to my apartment open, had I? My heart beat harder in my chest, seeming to rattle my ribs. I had been pretty out of it at five a.m., maybe I hadn’t shut it all the way, and the wind had blown it open.

I eased forward a step, listening for any sounds coming from inside. Nothing. I blew out a long breath. “Get it together, Bell.”

I pushed open the door and gasped. It looked as if a tornado had come through my apartment. Items had been torn off shelves and thrown about. My precious potted plants had been upended, and dirt was strewn everywhere. And there were feathers, so many feathers. From the pillows, I realized. Someone had taken scissors or a knife to the throw pillows on my couch.

The world seemed to go a bit wobbly at the edges, and I realized I was shaking. I needed to leave, to call someone, the police, but I couldn’t seem to get my legs to obey my brain. I simply stared at the carnage around me. My eyes caught on something in the midst of it, and a strangled sob escaped my throat.

I rushed forward, my knees knocking against the hard floor as I went down. My scrapbook. I quickly flipped through the pages, every single photo was gone. When I reached the back page, there was a note written in angry black letters.

You don’t deserve to have her. You never did.

My breaths came quicker, each one tripping over the last as they struggled to get out. I stumbled back, falling on my butt and then scrambling to my feet. I needed out of here. I needed to call the police. I shakily pulled out my phone, but before I could unlock the screen, there was a flash of movement in my peripheral vision.

The world seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. A masked figure moving forward. I tried to turn, to head for the door, but a fist struck out, landing right on my cheek. Flashes of light danced across my vision as my legs lost their purchase, and I tumbled to the floor, my phone flying from my grip.