The Incident, as I had coined in my head, began to fade from my mind as time passed. I recounted it to my friends and got exasperated sighs.
“You’re always having some sort of dramatic episode,” my best friend grumbled. “Maybe you need to get out of your head more.” I nodded through the video chat and we said our goodbyes that day.
Tonight was another night on the road and another night in a hotel. Work demanded more field work engineers and I was available.
My boss had chuckled over the phone speaker when he told me about the assignment.
“We need to get you out of the office and on the ground. Wasted potential, if you ask me.”
So here I was, listening to the housekeepers outside gossip about the receptionist’s promiscuous relationship, as I typed up another daily progress report. The sky outside grew dark and droplets pattered my window panes.
It wasn’t until I sent off my final email that I noticed the silence.
…and the scratching.
I was on the third floor. There were no tree branches near the window. The units adjacent to mine were empty. Where was the scratching coming from?
Then the TV turned on.
Static assaulted my ears.
The scratching grew louder. And louder.
I blinked and I saw.
Fingernails. Behind the TV screen.