The guests left around ten o'clock at night. Grandma offered to stay with us, but Dad stubbornly refused. He wouldn't even let me open the door when the last guests left. He stood by the entrance himself, waited until their cars were gone, and then locked the door and put the top bolt on it. By then, I was convinced someone was watching us.
—Now tell me what's going on—I demanded.
Dad remained silent for several seconds. Then he picked up his phone, sent a message to someone, and told me to go up to his bedroom. He had already placed an armchair with a pillow and a blanket next to his bed.
"You'll sleep here, on the sofa, and I'll sleep in the bed," he said. "We'll lock the door from the inside."
I asked her if we were in danger. She sat on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands.
"I made a bad decision, Emily. I thought I could handle everything myself. But I'm afraid something might happen tonight."
A chill ran through my body. I remembered the phone call, the closed curtains, and the fact that Dad hadn't let me walk home from school alone for several days. At 11:30, we heard a noise downstairs. Someone slowly opened the kitchen door.
I jumped up from the couch. Dad immediately grabbed my hand and put a finger to his lips. Then the headlights of a vehicle shone through the window. Someone knocked three times on the front door. Dad went pale.
—Stay here —he said.
I didn't want to let him go, but he left the room and closed the bedroom door behind him. At first, I heard whispers downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps. Someone was coming up the stairs. The doorknob began to turn.
