I woke up to the subtle creaking of my bedroom floor. It was like a soft shuffle, barely audible but echoing against the walls.

Senses on edge, I sat up and scrutinized the darkness that seemed thicker than usual.

Outside, the rain tapped persistently on my window, creating a soothing yet eerie soundtrack to the night.

"Who's there?" I asked softly, but there was no response, just an oppressive quiet that hung in the air, accompanied by the distant whir of a passing car and the rhythmic drumming of raindrops.

Unease, I couldn't help but clutch the covers tightly to my chest as I asked again. "Who's there?" The air grew heavy with anticipation. "Robert?" I called, hoping for a familiar voice to dispel the mounting nervousness. "Mary?"

Something moved in the corner at that moment. The subtle shift caught my eye. It was a figure, an unwelcome silhouette, hovering there. My pulse quickened. "I said, w-who's there?!" I demanded firmly, my trembling hand reaching for the vintage flashlight on the bedside table.

Fumbling in the dark, I found it and, with a swift motion, turned it on. Its yellow beam cut through the darkness, and the figure it revealed huddled in the corner made my mouth open with a terrified gasp.

"Mr. Larsen."

It was him, someone I least expected, lurking in the corner of my room, his shirt unbuttoned, his belt loosened, and his eyes bloodshot.

An unsettling chill crawled beneath my skin How did he get in here? I could swear I locked the door. How long had he stood there, watching me...sleep?

Drawing my robe together, I fumbled for the courage to speak, my voice barely more than a whisper. "What were you doing here, sir?"

His hard footsteps resonated against the floor as he emerged from the shadows. "I came to see you, Mia."

My body stiffened.

His words were slurred. It was clear he was drunk. I could smell the horrid stench of alcohol off him.

He walked slowly towards my bed, his steps uneven, his vivid eyes dark with something I couldn't decipher.

"Sir, it's late." I stammered, trying to get off the bed as he advanced further. "And your wife, she-"

"She's pregnant and useless." He interrupted. "It's you I want, Mia, you know it."

A frisson of alarm ran up my spine. Terrified, I recoiled and attempted to slide off the bed completely, but he moved with a swiftness that defied reason and before I could take in my next breath, I found myself pushed down against the bed, his cold fingers pressing down on my shoulders.

"Mr. Larsen!" The scream tore from my throat but he covered my mouth, forcing it back down.

"Shh..." he slurred as he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them over my head. "Let me in."

Bile rose to my throat. I shook my head from side to side, flailing and screaming into his hand in terror. My vision blurred with hot tears. I sobbed and squirmed under him, trying to fight him off, but my attempts were useless. He was too strong for me.

"Stay still, Mia," he soothed me calmly, releasing my mouth. "Don't fight me." He reached for the hem of my night dress and dragged it up over my thighs. "Let me in."

My heart stopped. "Mr. Larsen, please! you don't have to do this!" I begged, the realization of what he intended to do making hot tears run faster down my eyes. "Please spare me! Please I beg you!"

"Shh..." His fingers grasped the outer of my underwear and tugged them over to the side.

My stomach revolted. "Stop!" I yelled, trying to push him off with every part of my body. "Please don't do this! Don't hurt me!"

Something hard pressed against me, poking blindly. "Don't worry, Mia," he said, smiling down at me with a psychotic glimmer in his eyes. "It only hurts for a minute."

He shifted forward.

My eyes widened. "No!"

"Mr Larsen, Stop!"

"Please!!"

"No!"