The alarm. It’s on. Set to Stay.

I don’t know why this unnerves me. Clearly either my dad or Cora came home and set the alarm when I was in the shower. No one called upstairs or came to my room to say hello, but that’s not a shock. Sometimes I go two or three days without seeing my father.

I’ll go and see if Cora’s here. Must be her.

I turn around and start heading back up, leaving the chandelier light on. Someone else can turn it off later; I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.

Halfway up the first flight of steps, it happens.

The scream.

An awful, primal, visceral scream.

It’s not Cora. The tone is deeper.

It…it sounds like a man.

I’m frozen in total and absolute fear. The sound of the doorbell would have been enough to set me off, but the scream exists beyond my ability to reason. This must be a dream. I fell asleep with that stupid King book, and now I’m having a nightmare.

But I know that’s not really true, which is the worst part of all.

No dream is as real as this.

The scream stops as quickly as it started, but it echoes in my mind. I don’t know which way to go. Up the stairs? That’s where the scream came from. Or down?

Cora.

Oh my god, something’s happening to Cora.

I have to move. I have to do something.

But my limbs are locked, a rigor mortis of fear.

I squeeze my eyes closed for a second and tell myself this: Push through the fear. This is the kind of moment that defines who you are. Who you’ll be for the rest of your life, no matter how long or short it may be.

My legs suddenly unlock, as if I suddenly touched a live electrical wire and reanimated. I race up the stairs to the second floor. I pause and flip on the hallway light switch. Five can lights blaze from above, illuminating the long second-floor hallway that ends at Cora’s bedroom.

I’m thirty feet away from her closed door but can hear a fresh volley of noises coming from behind it. Groaning mixed with short, staccato shouting. It doesn’t sound like Cora. It sounds like…

Like a monster.

My fear of opening that door is only quelled by my need to help my sister. I’m just about to race down the hallway when Cora’s bedroom door opens.

A man.

No, not a man.

A boy. Teenager.

And…I know him. His face is distorted in terror, but I still recognize him.

He goes to my school. A senior, like Cora.

He spots me and his eyes widen, then he extends his arms as if he’s bobbing in a stormy sea and I’m a life raft just out of reach.

His name is Caleb. Caleb Benner.

His body is soaked in blood. White T-shirt. Bare arms. Crotch of his jeans.

All blood.

He lunges toward me. Stumbling on unsteady feet. Bloodied right hand printing the wall as he tries to keep from falling.