Mum reaches over and switches the telly off. She hasn’t got the memo yet that Sam isn’t a baby anymore.

‘I’m still watching!’ Sam balls his fists.

‘You’re not watching anything,’ Mum tells him. ‘Keep your phone on and beside your bed,’ she says to me. ‘I’m going to text you every half hour. If you don’t get back to me straight away, I will jump in a cab immediately.’

‘Don’t worry, Chlo, I’ll protect you,’ Sam says.

‘Actually, Sam, he’d tie you up and then take me. Easy as that.’

Sam flinches and I regret my words. He’s wearing shrunken Star Wars pyjamas that he refuses to admit he’s grown out of. Sam still believes in superheroes and the Force.

Mum corrals us into a family hug, holding on a little bit longer than normal. My chin sits on top of her head; our long black hair gets tangled together.

‘You’re both getting so tall,’ Mum murmurs.

Arnold huffs and rolls over. He puts his head on his paws and looks up at me, angling for a walk. I look away, over Mum’s head, trying not to get strangled.

‘Arnold will protect us,’ I say, to make Sam, and maybe Mum, feel better.

I decide to leave the hallway light on all night, and put the outside porch light on as well. Mum’s asked the landlord more than once for a security light along the driveway. It’s one of the few things we agree on with Ron and Pearl next door.

For a moment I push the front curtains aside and look over at the car spots opposite. The only time ours is used is when Dad visits, which is hardly ever. The porch light is feeble; beyond our block of units the leafy darkness quickly takes over. It makes no sense that light makes humans feel safer, when it doesn’t protect us at all. Fear has a steady grip around my throat and I regret telling Mum to go to work.

My phone beeps for the billionth time tonight, since the first news reports, and my nerves jangle afresh.

Liana.

babe you need to leave that school n come back!!!!!

My old school friends are losing their minds. My phone goes off again.

Katie.

dont get killed x

I send the knife emoji and the scream face and then put my phone on silent. I was already wondering how I was going to survive my first year at Balmoral, this is just adding to the sick joke.

At ten o’clock I watch the late news with the volume down low. It’s mostly a rehash of what’s been said in the earlier reports—they show the same outdated photo of Yin, the same identikit drawn from Yin’s mum’s description, and the same aerial footage that shows us how improbable it was that anyone broke into the compound.