“Who has two thumbs and the presence of mind to no longer make cliché mistakes?” I said aloud, trying to distract myself from my own increasing heart rate. And then the backyard’s motion-triggered light came on. This time, I didn’t bother checking to see what had set it off.
A moment later, I heard the doorknob rattling downstairs as someone tried to turn it, followed by the sound of breaking glass. I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed 9-1-1. The line rang once and then a woman answered, her voice sounding vaguely familiar as she said in a quiet tone, “Hello?”
“Hi, yes, uh someone is breaking into my house!”
The operator let out a stunned gasp. “REALLY? That’s awful.”
I suddenly realized why I recognize the voice on the phone. It was Videohead’s first victim, the woman from my nightmare.
“There’s no one coming to save me, is there?”
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m afraid not.”
