Luciano

Chapter 4

I felt my eyelids slowly begin to open.

My eyes gazed at the roof and I felt dazed momentarily before adjusting to my surroundings.

I lowered my blanket slightly and gazed towards the peek in my curtains. It was still dark. If anything, a few hours must've passed since I had originally fell asleep.

Before I could consider dozing off, I felt a sharp shiver pierce my body. I didn't move as I felt utterly confused at the sudden feeling of complete exposure and alertness.

It was the same feeling I had felt before entering my house.

It was an odd feeling. I hadn't felt this alert ever before and the sensation was insanely new.

I didn't know what it was.

Perhaps Arnold's death had effected me a whole lot more than I had originally thought.

I slowly rose, sitting up as I rubbed my right eye suppressing a yawn. I let out a long breath, feeling dazed, still somewhat sleepy.

I felt extremely cold as the air around me felt like ice and the air was still as iron. I felt tense and instinctively glanced around, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting the moon allowed.

The first thought that occurred to me was that someone might be in the house. A serial killer in town?

That would explain Arnold's death.

All that I could feel was a tenseness that made my muscles ache for release. I slowly slid my blanket off me and softly moved off of the bed, careful not to make a noise as my feet lightly touched the wooden floor.

Now standing up, I walked towards my door. I glanced back at my curtains and failed to spot a silhouette or even a shadow to suspect a presence in my room.

I slipped through the open gap of my bedroom door and stood still. The house was small. From the exterior of my room I could see the front door across the other side of the house meanwhile the brown sofa was a few steps away from it, with the mini kitchen on the left.

I stared at the front door blankly.

If someone was in the house I would've been able to spot them. I didn't see a thing. My mother also wouldn't be home at this hour either.

Just as I thought about retiring back into my room, back into the infamous sheets of mine, I paused.

I couldn't just ignore this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, despite the emptiness I felt in my mind and body.

If there was a serial killer around and I was next, why bother to stop it? I was going to die sooner or later. We all were. Why try and delay the bitter outcome we were all expecting?

Taking casual steps towards the front door, I grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open, my arm outstretched, with my hand still resting on the handle.

My breath left me for a second as the view in front of me was not what I expected.

At my door was a man. More accurately; a stranger.

At my sudden appearance from the other side of the door, the stranger didn't react.

It was almost as if he knew of my presence, just like I had sensed his.

I automatically noticed that he was darkly dressed. His face was hard to make out and he blended in with the nights aura, his presence the most demanding thing with in the scene in front of me.

He wore a long black coat that matched the colour of his loose hair, his hands tucked into his front pockets.

I stared at the man blandly, awaiting a response.