I couldn’t respond to Evan’s So what happened? text. I just wanted to get away from the miserable girl who had overtaken Sara’s body.

The front door was unlocked when I arrived home, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there. My mother’s car was still in the driveway covered with a dusting of snow, and the kitchen light was on, but the house was quiet as I kicked off my boots and shed my jacket.

I froze when I pushed my door open and found Jonathan at my desk. The squeak of the hinges made him spin around with a start.

“Emma, hi,” he greeted with an inflated smile, like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't.

I was so shocked to find him in my room, I couldn't say anything.

“You scared me,” he recovered with a laugh, and then explained nonchalantly, “Rachel said to use your computer to check my email. Sorry. I obviously freaked you out.”

His words shook me from my gaping expression. “It’s okay,” I assured him slowly, my cheeks warming at my overreaction.

“Are you sure?” he asked, clenching his teeth with a grimace. “You don't look okay.”

“Really, it’s fine,” I repeated, easing the tension in my shoulders.

“So, did you check it?” I finally asked.

“What?”

“Your email,” I emphasized with a laugh, recognizing how ridiculous we were both acting.

“Oh, yeah. I did,” he fumbled, folding down the laptop before standing up. “I was about to leave but noticed the pictures. You play soccer too?"

“Yeah. I'm better at it than basketball,” I replied, setting my backpack on the floor at the foot of my bed.

“You were quite amazing last night,” he admired, making me shift uncomfortably. “So if you’re better at soccer, then I would definitely want to see that.”

“Well, it’s paying for me to go to Stanford,” I admitted, embarrassed embers lighting up my cheeks.

“Do you always turn this red?” he asked, examining my face.

“Usually,” I admitted, my eyes drifting toward the floor.

“Sorry," he chuckled. "It's... cute."

My breath faltered for a second.

“Thanks for letting me use your computer.”

“Any time,” I nodded, still unable to meet his gaze without my face flaming up.

He paused before continuing. “I’ve been meaning to say something, but…”

“What?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

“I'm really sorry about the first time we met. Rachel said you were going out and to just come in. I really didn't mean to walk in on you like that. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

And just like that, it was even more uncomfortable. I nodded not sure what to say, wishing he'd never brought it up.

“I just made it awkward, didn’t I?”

Of course, my glowing cheeks gave that away.

“Umm… a little,” I admitted with a half grin.

“Sorry," he grimaced. "That's not what I wanted to do. Wow, I'm usually not so bad at this."

I couldn't help but smile at the falter in his confidence. With that one sentence, he had just become a little more, well, like me.

"What?" he asked, his eyes searching mine. "Did I say something wrong again?"

“No,” I answered, connecting with his dark brown eyes with a slight smile, making the corners of his mouth curve as well.

“Can you give me a hand?” my mother interrupted from downstairs. When Jonathan and I emerged from my bedroom, she cocked her head to one side at the sight of us. “Uh, hi. What are you guys up to?” Her words came out in a hesitated pattern, with a hint of unease.

“I was checking my email,” Jonathan explained casually. “Remember, you said to use Emily’s computer?” I looked over at him, surprised to hear my formal name. But then again, seeing my mother's questioning eyes, it was the right choice.

“Oh,” she recognized. “Thanks for letting him use your computer.” And instantly, all was right with the world.

I shut myself up in my room for the rest of the day; reading, studying, and listening to music. I wasn’t an expert at occupying my time. I actually preferred not to be alone for too long because that’s when the thinking began.

And that’s where I found myself late Saturday night, lying in my bed staring at the white above me. I ran my hand along my neck, and a cold chill ran through my body. An image flashed through my head as fast as the snap of a picture, but the panic and fear wrapped in it forced me to sit up in bed. I shook off the remembrance that had forced its way to the surface―her frigid hands and my silent pleas for help. And then it was gone. I was alone in the house once again.

I searched the kitchen for something to eat, but it was scarce pickings. My mother and I kept missing each other for dinner, so I’d stocked up on microwavable anything to keep me nourished. But my supply was dwindling.

I called to order a pizza, and decided to pick up a movie along the way. As much as I wished I could hibernate for the winter to avoid the bone chilling cold, I sucked it up and drove toward the commercial side of town, far away from the homes that paid for the silence, where the neon was allowed to glow.

I pulled into the gas station that had a movie rental machine. There were a few carloads of Weslyn students lingering inside, trying to decide where to go―whose party to crash. I didn’t make eye contact as I waited behind an older man to pick out a movie.

“Hey, Emma,” one of the girls recognized. I looked over at the soda cooler where she and two other girls were choosing forms of caffeine. I smiled politely, trying to place her. She may have been in my Art class, but I was pretty sure she was a junior.

“Great game last night,” a guy praised.

“Thanks,” I returned lowly, stepping up to take my turn at the movie machine.

“Do you want to go to a party with us?” another girl asked.

“No, that’s okay,” I replied, trying to make a hasty decision with a movie. “I’m staying in tonight.”

“See you around.”

I made my way out of the gas mart and waved with an awkward smile. It was strange being recognized outside of school without Evan or Sara. But at the same time, it felt kinda good. It was like waking up to discover I was my own person and people actually wanted to hang out with me. I grinned as I started my car.

I returned to the house, prepared for my solo night, with a new found sense of confidence. I was somewhat disappointed to see Jonathan’s truck had returned. It was barely nine o’clock.

I pushed open the front door and heard the buzz of the TV in the living room. After abandoning my shoes at the door, I brought the pizza into the room. Jonathan was sitting alone, and appeared surprised to see me.

"You're back early." I set the pizza on the coffee table.

"Rachel's sick," Jonathan explained.

I nodded in understanding.

“I thought you’d be out.”

“Staying in,” I replied. “Hungry?”

“Uh, sure.” Jonathan got up from the couch and crossed over to the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

“Diet Coke, please,” I answered, looking around for my mother. I hung up my jacket and Jonathan came back over with drinks, paper plates and napkins. “Is she in bed?”

“Yeah. She drank a little too much cough medicine,” Jonathan shared, sucking in air through his clenched teeth. He handed me the soda bottle. “And then had a couple glasses of wine on top of it. I wouldn't be surprised if she's out ‘til Tuesday.”

"Great,” I said with a shake of my head.

“What movie did you get?” he asked, eyeing the plastic casing.

“You know what? I have no idea,” I admitted, pulling it open. “I was in a rush and just picked a new release. Do you want to watch it with me?”

“Sure,” he responded.

I looked at the title and groaned, “Oh great. It’s a horror flick. Exactly what I don’t need.”

Jonathan laughed. “We’ll keep the lights on while we watch it.”

“Did you think for a second I’d let you turn them off?”

He laughed again, taking the movie and inserting it into the DVD player while I doled out pizza on the paper plates.

There wasn't really a point to the plot, except maybe to sear my brain with lifelong nightmares―but then again, I already had those. I watched the entire movie with my knees pulled into me and a pillow clutched to my chest. I’d shove my face into the pillow whenever the music chimed in warning. Jonathan would talk me through what was happening and then let me know when it was safe to look again.

By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to sleep again. Jonathan changed the channel to ESPN, allowing talk of the Super Bowl to help disperse the disturbing images.

“What are you doing for the game tomorrow?” Jonathan asked, tucking in the lip of the pizza box and stacking the crust-laden plates on top of it.

“Oh, uh, nothing. I mean, I’m watching it, but I don’t have plans.”

“I’m sure there’s a few Super Bowl parties you could go to.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, not having given it a second thought. “But, I think I’d rather watch the game. You know?”

“Yes,” he stressed. “We’re going to a party with some of Rachel’s friends, and I have a feeling the game’s going to be background. I’d actually like to watch it too.” He shrugged and carried the box into the kitchen.

It felt like I hadn’t moved the entire movie. I stretched my legs and stood to go to bed.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to sleep?” Jonathan asked when he saw me head for the stairs.

“Probably not,” I admitted, “but that’s not different from any other night.”

He gave me a questioning look, but didn't say anything.

“Goodnight."

“Goodnight, Emma,” Jonathan returned watching me enter my room.

“Emma,” the dark beckoned. A banging followed. I fought to hold on to the bed, but the sheets were slipping. The room continued to tilt, determined to dump me into the black hole at the end of my bed. Horrific screams cried out from the abyss.

“Emma,” the dark called out again.

I kicked my feet to work my way further up the mattress.

The banging grew louder, and I shot up in bed. My sheets were tangled around me, and I was breathing so fast, I was practically hyperventilating. I turned on the light next to my bed.

“Emma?” came from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Will you open the door?”

It was Jonathan. I inhaled deeply to calm my nerves. “I’m fine,” I answered, sweeping strands of sweat soaked hair from my face with a shaking hand.

“Please open the door?” he requested again.

“I’m okay, really,” I responded, unraveling the sheets around my legs.

“Please,” he pled. “Just open the door, okay?”

I hesitated and stared at the door. “Fine. Just a minute.”