For the last thirty minutes, I haven't heard any noises except for the rain against the window and the occasional roar of thunder. Still, I sit on my bed, my back against the headboard, the door locked, and watch the handle like a hawk for any movement.

I texted Cassie and when that didn't work, called her and left messages at the nursing station.

When my phone rings, I sweep it up and press it to my ear.

"Leila, I'm busy," she says right off the bat. I can tell she is. The sound of raised voices comes across the line as if she's standing in the middle of a noisy shopping mall. "There's been lots of accidents because the storm knocked out the street lights. I can't talk. We're short-staffed and the security guards are trying to restrain a patient who won't take his meds. I hope this is important."

"I need to know if you were in my room today," I say, aware that any second now, she'll end the call.

"In your room?" she asks in exasperation.

"Did you touch my stuff?"

"I don't know. I put the laundry away. I could have touched things." There's a long pause as she speaks to a man before she comes back to me. "Is there anything else? I have to go."

"Someone left me a drawing, Cassie. Of us," I add. "And someone touched the stuff in my room. The curtains were all closed and there was the smell of roses—"

"I closed the curtains," she cuts in. "I had a headache this morning, and the house was too bright."

"But the drawing—"

"It's obvious it's from some boy who's trying to get your attention." She breathes out. "Or it's a prank to freak out the new girl. It's put you on edge so you think someone's been in your room."

"Cassie, but what if it's Paul—"

"Listen to me," she says, and the ice in her voice silences me. This is work Cassie, the one who is firm, capable, and won't take any bullshit from her patients. It's not the Cassie who can't say no to a nice co-worker who's pushing boundaries. "You've done this before. You've worked yourself up into a tizzy because you thought a stranger was in your room. Were they?"

When I don't answer, she repeats herself. "Were they?"

"No," I choke out, "It was Dad dropping off some books for me."

"That's right. And this time it was me putting away laundry. Paul is not in Ludford. If he were, he would need to register with the police and they would tell us. You're fine. Go eat dinner. Do your homework and go to bed. I have to go."

"This is different. The drawing—"

The phone goes dead before I can say anything else.

I look at the call-ended screen long after she's gone. I want to cry. I hate it when she's like this. When she won't listen... when nothing matters or is important unless it happens within the walls of whatever hospital she's working at.

I need to pee so badly, but I hold it in. Everything about this is too much like Eyre. Me in my room, scared to leave because Paul might be out there. Cassie away from home, because she'll use any excuse to get away from us. How can this not trigger memories? I squeeze my eyes tight. I don't want to remember.

I force myself to take a big breath and unlock the door. It's been more than an hour since I got home and I haven't heard a sound. When I walk to the bathroom, my breathing is shallow but controlled, like I'm resigned to whatever's waiting for me. When I stand in front of the shower curtain, it's still. From behind it, I hear rain. I pull it back with one fell swoop and reach across to slide the window closed.

Cassie's right. There's no one here but me. 

[Author's Note:

Hope you are enjoying the story. Lots more to come. 

Next chapter drops on Monday at 9:15 am].