As I said this, Videohead suddenly halted, stopping almost directly in the middle of the frame. He cocked his head slightly, as if straining to hear something. Videohead then turned and seemed to look directly at me as his face lit up. He grinned at me then and it’s worth noting that, on a scale of 1 to 10 of bone-chilling creepiness, that grin would’ve scored a perfect “holy fuck!”
After another tense beat, Videohead turned and exited the frame, leaving me sitting there looking like Lenny holding a freshly crushed puppy. For about five minutes, that’s how I stayed, mouth-agape and waiting-hoping that Videohead would return to his lair. Perhaps he’d simply left something in the car and that apparent fourth-wall break had really just been him spotting a stain on a couch cushion off screen. I bet there were stains ALL OVER that place.
“There’s no need to panic,” I told myself when Videohead didn’t return. I made my way downstairs to lock the door to the garage and then hurried back up to my room and grabbed my bat. “Which is why I’m not going to panic.”
I pushed my dresser in front of the bedroom door and then, just to be safe, I locked the window as well. Surveying the room, I remembered Monday night’s visit from Brett and immediately grabbed my phone.