There’s a knock at the door just as I’m drying the dishes and I look up at the clock. 10:46pm. Could I really be bothered to answer it? No, I wasn’t but suddenly the knocking intensifies, getting louder and faster with every second.

“Alright, I’m coming!” I shout, hurring out the kitchen. The hallway is dark, so I switch a side lamp on to illuminate my path and grab the door keys from the bowl next to it. I place the knife I was drying on the side table by the door and fumble with the keys. Unlocking it and cracking it open reveal something I really did not want to see tonight. Or ever again.

“Hello, Grace.” Crisp, formulated words ring in my ears. How quickly a night changes.

“You left me to die in that hell hole.” Is what I want to say in response, bile rising up my throat at the sight of his arrogant face smiling at me from the sliver of the doorway. I want to kill him.

Instead I swallow and —

“It’s good to see you again.” I lie through my teeth and widen the door ever so slightly. “What brings you here at this time of night?” I try a small chuckle.

“Oh, you know, nothing in particular.” He says casually, shrugging his shoulders, hands in his pockets. “I just thought I’d — ” he pauses, and swallows, “drop in and see if the rumors were true that you were hiding out here.” His narrowing eyes fix on mine. My throat goes dry, and I take short sharp intakes of the freezing night.

“No words? You were always one to talk… Perhaps you would care to invite me in? Maybe then you can regain the linguistic ability of speech.” He steps closer to the door, hand outstretched as if to force the door wide open. If I had my way, I would rather that man on my doorstep would be six feet underground than anywhere near my house.

“I’m sorry, but it’s late and — ” My frugal attempts at backing out of the situation are met with his hand wedged in the doorway gap, preventing me from closing it. I’m sure he could hear my heart racing if he listened. In an adrenaline-fueled act I spot a glint of metal to my right, behind the door where he can’t see.

“It would only take a second.” He’s saying, but I’m not really listening anymore, not with this intense desire to get rid of him. His hand is still there and I’m focused on the knife, and reaching the knife and —

Metal piereces flesh in a split second.