Novel & Cerita A Través De Mi Ventana

Slipping through the gates, I knock on the door instead of ringing the doorbell. No one opens the door, and I frown. Alright then, I do this my way. I walk around the property looking for a way in. Spotting a window open, I cock a brow, estimating the size before hoisting myself up. I peer inside. It’s the kitchen. I slide my head through and reach in with my arm as I stretch to reach the handle, gritting my teeth as I press the button on the window handle and open the lower window.

Franklin’s POV It came through the window. Not through the glass… through the gap where Rydan had pulled the curtain back, the window coming open in the same instant the shape resolved into something that moved with direction and intention. I didn’t have time to process the sequence. One moment I was standing behind Rydan watching something form in the garden, and the next something had crossed the room and hit me.

The cold wind blew in through the window and brushed against my face as it whipped my loose hair back behind me. Wait! The wind blew in through the window? But I was sure that I closed the window before I went to bed. My eyes flickered to the window and found it widely open. The wind blew in along with the bright moonlight. I had no idea what the date was, but the moon was almost a complete round circle. Carefully, I got out of bed and took the few steps towards the window on shaky legs. The night was peaceful regardless of the rapid beating of my heart. Why is the window open?

I jerked my head back, hitting my forehead repeatedly against the icy glass of the window. "No," I gasped.

I went to take a shower after dinner. It was then that I suddenly saw a weird palm print on the glass window. Someone must have left that palm print behind with their soapy hand while taking a shower. The print was quite faint and white against the shiny glass on the window. It was obviously a woman's handprint, and it wasn't mine. My hand was a little bigger than this. So I couldn't have been the one who put it there. It couldn't have been my daughter, Bella Quinton, either. She had tiny hands and wasn't even tall enough to reach that spot yet. Also, it definitely did not belong to my husband, Rory Quinton.

‎ ‎Right outside my window. ‎ ‎

Looking at the thick snow outside the window, I climbed out through the window. Without hesitation, I turned and walked away.

Perhaps there is something I can do. Stepping out of the mirror’s way, I gaze out the window, wrap my arms around my shoulders, and take a couple of deep breaths. The sun beats down on me from my open window. I can hear birds singing from the tree branches and the sound of retreating vehicles rushing up and down the street.

Hermosa's POV I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the trees blur into a dark smudge against the horizon. My arm throbbed where the needle had pierced me—a dull reminder of the life I’d just drained out of myself for people who looked at me like a meal.

I saw him, through smoked glass, unlocking the door. I scurried across a patch of young grass and sat down beneath one of the windows that faced into the square. I thought it was a kitchen window, for no better reason than its proximity to a large waste pipe, which could have meant nothing. I waited for a light to illuminate some of the grass, but when it did, it was at the side of the house and I had to creep round. There was a tiny crack between the window frame and the blind if I was very, very careful, I could just fit my eye in that space and take a look.