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I toss and turn in the bead, clutching at my sheets, waiting for the footsteps I am sure that will come. I keep my eyes open wide, looking around the room for any signs of life. Outside, the tree brushes against the window repeatedly, its twisted form casting a dark ugly shadow across the carpet.
Something moves outside. So it starts now, I think. I turn my head towards the window, far away from the door. As I expected, the door opens silently. The knob turns with a gentle metallic squeak, the hinges silent for once. He shuts the door carefully behind him, and approaches. I follow his light footsteps across the absorbent carpet material, measuring the distance between him and me. He stops about two meters away from my bed.
There is only silence left. What is he doing? Is he watching me, or looking out the window? Or is he thinking about what he has done? But just like that I realize that it is none of those. I feel his breath caressing my cheek, and even behind the shelter of my closed eyelids, I find myself wondering if he can sense the fear which is bound to show in my eyes.
Suddenly, I feel his gaze shift, tracing the soft outline of my securely shut eyes, climbing the rise of my nose, stroking the gentle curve of my lips. And there it stops, for just a second. And just like that it is gone, the intense yet weightless pressure.
Turning in my bed, I open my eyes to study him. I am captivated by his perfect figure, the tall silhouette, framed by the luminous moonlight. He turns, and in my fear, I forget to close my eyes again.
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