The Murder House Chapter 12

Terrified.

Just had to make it until dawn.

Just couldn't open the door until police arrived.

Deep breath.

The killer was right next door. This might be the closest I'd ever been to him in my life.

Glanced out the window—rain showed no signs of stopping.

The balcony! The windows!

Could the killer climb from the neighbor's window?

This murder house had an open balcony, not fully enclosed.

If he climbed from the neighbor's place, he could easily smash the glass with something sharp.

I shuddered with belated fear.

Legs numb, I moved step by step toward the window.

Carefully peeked at the neighbor's apartment—lights blazing, curtains drawn.

They'd installed window guards.

Not easy to climb over! But not impossible either.

Seemed like guarding the door wasn't foolproof.

If the killer climbed over and smashed the glass, I'd open the main door and run for my life.

Down the stairs, screaming for help as I ran.

Maybe he'd catch me, but my survival chances were better than staying inside.

Even if I died, at least the chase would leave traces.

Looked at the wall clock. 3:00 AM.

Not sleepy at all. Wide awake.

I wondered if Emma had experienced this same agonizing hesitation that night.

I wondered if the killer tortured people's minds this way.

Forcing myself to stay calm, to keep my spirits up.

Didn't dare act rashly. Didn't dare pull the curtains.

Ears perked, completely focused.

Besides the patter of rain, I heard nothing.

Mental torture, imagining the killer's brutal dismemberment of the mother and child next door.

Time passed second by second.

Suddenly, the door knocked again.