prologue
"Come on, you know I can't throw a party." She rolled her eyes as if her friend could see her facial expressions through the phone. "My dads got cameras surrounding this whole house. He'll know if anyone comes in or out and he'll literally kill me if there's a speck of dirt on his new carpet."
"Don't me so dramatic, Em." Marlene was also at home, alone. Perched on the kitchen countertop in the dark, she ate a bag of salted tortilla crisps, wiping her fingers on her tartan pyjama pants every so often. The window was open and next to it was a used ashtray, a lighter and half a pack of Lambert & Butlers. She didn't know when her flatmates would get back and she didn't care.
"I'm not being dramatic, I'm being realistic." Emmeline scolded her friend, as she wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder so that she was able to pick up a white cardigan of her bed and clumsily wrap it around her shoulders. Her bedroom was decorated in every shade there was between baby pink and pristine white, not a single poster on the wall. The most personality that was available was a neatly framed picture on the dressing table. The picture was of Emmeline and a few friends on a night out.
"Ugh, you're so-" Marlene spoke through a mouthful of crisps but was cut off before she could finish her half hearted insult.
"One sec, Marls. I'm getting a call on my phone."
"But you're talking to me on your phone."
"No, this is the landline."
"Dude, what century do you live in?"
"Haha. Very funny." Emmeline deadpanned before hanging up and answering the other call, expecting it to be marketing or a wrong number. She liked having a laugh with those calls, putting on a stupid voice and pretending to be Ghost face from Scream. "Hello, Sydney."
"That's not my name," This guys Ghost face impression was much better than hers, she thought. Maybe he had a voice changing app. "Emmeline."
Her smile faded quickly. This couldn't be happening. Those movies weren't real. "Who the fuck is this?" She spoke in shaky breaths but tried to keep her cool. After all it could still be Marlene, right? They watched the films together but something deep in the pit of her stomach knew that it wasn't Marlene, or any of her friends. She knew that she might die tonight and couldn't do anything about it.
"I think you know who this is."
"No, I have no idea who you are." She lied, trying not to cry as if she could already feel the knife twisting in her stomach. All of a sudden she could remember all those little things from the last week or so. Those little tingles in the back of her neck that made her feel like she was being watched. Those three phone calls where the person on the other end just breathed down the phone for a few seconds and then hung up. She could remember everything.
"I'm the person that's going to kill you." This person told her. He kept breathing through the phone waiting for her reply. If she wasn't breathing so hard already she might have heard it, she might have heard her cats loud cry, or the footsteps on the stairs.
"Why? I've never done anything to you."
"Oh, but does that matter any more, Emmy."
"Only my friends call me that." Her voice shook more and more with every tear. "You have no right to call me Emmy."
"Well, why don't we get to know each other and then we can be friends."
"I never want to be friends with a bastard like you." She spat.
"Oh, that's sad. So so, sad." The voice hummed slightly. "But then, it might be easier to kill you. Do you want to do it in the bedroom? That's where you are, isn't it?"
"No, no. I'm not in the house. I'm not home." She could feel her face and neck getting warm but the creaking of the stairs made shivers creep all down her body.
"You might be more comfortable in your room but it is completely hideous. Like a PG-13 Victoria's Secret." Emmeline was starting to get creeped out now and a little offended, she'd decorated her new room with her mother so that she could feel at home when she was uni. "I'll be happy to cover those sickly pink walls with your blood."
When the door opened, she couldn't find it in herself to run or to hide. Emmeline stood still, the only movements she made were to scream through her quivering lips and drop to her knees. She knew she couldn't do anything. She was never a fighter.