CHAPTER 1

The chirping midnight silence of Emerson Residence rumbled with a fast-approaching black BMW. Ballistics of laughter and chatter, together with metallic tunes announces the energetic and sweaty night that awaits. Given the stinging scent in the air, it had already begun. All of it halts abruptly in front of a pair of heavy white gate. The pack of 4 friends steps out of the car, shutting the door in chorus. Brows knit deep. The remnants of laughter die down. They exchange a confused look at the slightly ajar timber door.

Shut doors when she is alone is a big no-no for Sarah, including her bedroom door. Sometimes, even her bathroom door. She always masks it well with the excuse of needing fresh air or vitamin D deficiency. But the friends know too well. It makes her uncomfortable-sort of a mild phobia.

The door’s hinge squeaks low as they pace into the dark space. Jessica is the first to peek in. A shivering shadow caught her eyes. Sarah, huddled to a corner– on the floor, hugging her legs and head buried between her knees. A view worth hair prickling and that it did for sure.

Could she be terrified of the dark too? She could! Since she is the most complicated puzzle they have yet to solve, keeping her closely bound to them.

Jessica's trembling hands approach Sarah with much reluctance while the others squat behind her, ready for a ghostly revelation of her demonic face– the movie Annabelle replaying at the junction of their mind. A feather touch flips her off, sending Sarah into a frenzy. She jolts back with stormy breath. Her hands slam against the floor, pushing to anchor.

“NO NO NO!!!” she whimpers.

“SARAH!!!” a loud call by a familiar voice bogs down her panic immediately.

“It’s ok...It’s me, Jess...”

A few more sharp gasps follows before Sarah broke into tears, reaching out her trembling hands, flustering against empty space to find Jessica. Jessica held her arms and she leans in for a tight hug

“Shhh…shhh….”. Her dearest friend ends up kneeling next to her, infecting the others as well to sit on the ground, coaxing her without even a hint of what might have happened or how terrified she is.

It took a while before her agonizing wail subsides to tiny sobs.

” What happened?” a deep baritone wobble down her ears and land a long-lasting vibration in the chest– the signature of Michelle Ricci. She straightens herself against the wall and sniffles her sobs. Hands land on the cold marble-tiled floor, subconsciously pushing into her own dark corner. Her lips pinch shut just like her eyes.

“I can’t open my eyes...A bug-a bug crashed into it” she mumbles between her sniffs.

The friends exchange a somewhat puzzled look.

‘Did she just cry like a baby because of such a silly matter?’ Mike hung his head low with thought train chucking across his mind. Jessica sighs her surety that she is hiding something and rub gently against Sarah’s arm.

“It’s ok honey, let’s go wash your face” Jessica guides her to the bathroom. With a splash of cold water to the face and a cup of warm water to the throat, she laid Sarah on the sofa, her lap as a cushion. Broken, she didn’t utter a word and clings to Jessica’s legs in the hope her pudding-like heart, beating out of its capacity, doesn’t slip off her mouth. Slowly, she drifts off to sleep.

“Well, there goes to our party night down the drain” Robert sighs.

Sour mouth probably pissed the guardian angels. As soon as he finish speaking, the lights came on. All of them simultaneously snap up at the light source except for Sarah who is fast asleep.

Mike is the first one to lower his gaze and study Sarah’s face in the light. His eyes widen slowly, catching everyone’s attention as they curiously follow his eye line. A row of gasps erupts. Two red bleeding spots peek at her rosy lips. A large, purplish hickie highly contrasts her slender neck. Even a few fine scratches up her cheeks.

As far as they know, Sarah is the only one out of the dating game. Her romance department is an extended dry spell for as long as they can recall; zero gravitation to man or woman despite all the temptations around her. Throw a shell-shock Sarah, in the middle of the night into the equation, and boom!!! Puzzle pieces click together.

“It’s not just some bugs in her eyes, isn't it?” Laura mumbles with a wide-opened eye too.

.

.

.

Behind that sweet and calm sleeping façade–she was falling and falling and kept falling into an endless, pitch-black pit. She screams at the top of her voice, with all her might but nothing comes out. Yet, her throat is parched and her chest aches. She claws frantically at whooshing air to grab anything but had no luck. Nothing change. The hole that she fell in seems like a dot against the blue sky, far away from her reach.

She shot up with a frightened gasp and sweaty face. The sun is sluggishly rising from the depth of the sea, casting just a dollop of light into the room. Her eyes dart around and find all her friends sleeping right next to her; two on the sofa opposite her, one curled on the floor, and another right under her. It's Sunday, a day dedicated to enjoying the sun. Meaning they didn’t have to attend work and can sleep their heads off. With caution, she removes Jessica’s hand from her waist, stood up and tiptoed slowly upstairs.

In the confined space that never fails to comfort her, she inspects the evidence of last night. The excessive water droplets stringing down the green wall, rhythmically echoing in her ears– pounding louder with growing seconds.

“So, it’s not a dream!!!” She mutter low to herself

‘Who would do this?’

‘I didn’t hurt or offend anyone, did I?’

‘Will it happen again?

‘Should I leave the house?’

‘Will he come again for a little bit more?’

‘If he does, will I be able to escape a rape next time?’

The last thought chimes a shiver down her spine. The terror in her eyes is vice. Biting down her lips, she musters the courage to gently touch her neck, only to withdraw at lightning speed. A sharp hiss fills the humid space. The hickie stings bad and is in desperate need of a cover-up

A turtleneck shirt and red lipstick should do. Perfect plan that froze in space once she stepped into the hot shower. It felt good. It felt concealed. She slowly slips to the floor, back to recoiling she goes. Two hours slip off easily before she finally came to sense and pulls herself out of the pit. Walking out of the room as if nothing happened is not as easy as suppressing the fear.

'This cannot leak out. No! No!. If Jessica knows, then Mom will know and I would be called back home. Meaning I have to leave behind MY HOUSE!!!'

No, that she can't. This is her house. Her own house, bought with her own earning. In a word– HER dreamhouse.

A cup of strongly brewed coffee might be the perfect cover-up. She lines them perfectly on a serving tray before waking up her friends. A 360° turn of event bound to surprise them, of course, but none dare to question her on what happened. At least part of what she said is true. Her left eye is red and slightly swollen– the impact of the pesky little bug. After all, she is back to herself, isn't it? Then why would they mess things up? When she wasn’t looking, Mike whispers to others “Shuuu…Let it go” and they all nodded.

Mike and Jessica are Sarah’s schoolmates. After high school, they took different courses. Mike did psychology, Sarah and Jessica did Business Management. Jessica is now helping her father to run their business while Sarah is in real estate. Robert and Laura are Mike’s friends from work, who later became looped into the circle.

Woven in Indian origin, Sarah's lifestyle is different from the others. Father is an engineer, the mother is a homemaker-determined to raise their only child on strict Indian tradition. It was considered a sin to have sex before marriage in their tradition. Sarah wasn’t interested in the concept of falling in love or marriage anyhow. So, she had practically no intimate contact with anyone. She was more interested in building her own life, her own car, a secured income, and a home.

And this is her dream home. Small but cozy, with plenty of land space around the house so that she could do gardening at leisure time. But now, in a corner of her heart, she feels unsecured in the house. Every time she looks at the entrance door, an illusional warmth grabs her neck.

She can still hear her muffled scream.

She still hears the soft groan of a man.

She still feels his warm breath and soft tongue in her mouth.

A reminder sting gently under her turtle neck shirt.