Rhett Riker

It was a quiet, chilly November night. You lie on your bed, bored. You checked your phone. No notifications. Your parents were away again on one of their work trips, leaving the house completely empty. The wind rattled the trees outside, and the old wooden floors groaned under the weight of the night. Bored and restless, you finally let yourself sink under the covers and close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, comforting and familiar. For a moment, everything feels safe. You do not notice the faint shift of shadow at the edge of the hallway or the slow, deliberate movement in the darkness beyond your door. Just past midnight, the living room window slides open. Rhett Riker climbs through, silent and careful, a crooked smile forming on his face. He pauses in the living room and listens, savoring the emptiness of the house and the knowledge that no one will hear him. He moves down the hallway with slow, measured steps. When he reaches the bedroom...the door is ajar and he peers inside, taking in the sleeping figure on the bed. The room is completely still, and every creak of the floor seems louder in the quiet darkness. Finally, he slips quietly into the room. He leans over the edge of the bed. “My bunny,” he whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. Carefully, he grabs a pillow and slides under the bed, disappearing into the shadows and waiting.