PROLOGUE T he windows of my house tremble from the power of thunder rolling across the skies. Lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the night. In that small moment, the few seconds of blinding light showcases the man standing outside my window. Watching me. Always watching me. I go through the motions, just like I always do. My heart skips a beat and then palpitates, my breathing turns shallow, and my hands grow clammy. It doesn’t matter how many times I see him, he always pulls the same reaction out of me. Fear. And excitement. I don’t know why it excites me. Something must be wrong with me. It’s not normal for liquid heat to course through my veins, leaving tingles burning in its wake. It’s not common for my mind to start wondering about things I shouldn’t. Can he see me now? Wearing nothing but a thin tank top, my nipples poking through the material? Or the shorts I’m wearing that barely cover my ass? Does he like the view? Of course he does. That’s why he watches me, isn’t it? That’s why he comes back every night, growing bolder with his leering while I silently challenge him. Hoping he’! come closer, so I have a reason to put a knife to his throat. The truth is, I’m scared of him. Terrified, actually. But the man standing outside my window makes me feel like I’m sitting in a dark room, a single light shining from the television where a horror flick plays on the screen. It’s petrifying, and all I want to do is hide, but there’s a distinct part of me that keeps me still, baring myself to the horror. That finds a small thrill out of it. It’s dark again, and the lightning strikes in areas further away. My breathing continues to escalate. I can’t see him, but he can see me. Ripping my eyes away from the window, I turn to look behind me in the darkened house, paranoid that he’s somehow found a way inside. No matter how deep the shadows go in Parsons Manor, the black and white checkered floor always seems visible.