Chapter 27

"Who's there?"

She said standing behind the door, holding the door knob for as long as possible. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to take chances. She sighed tapping her feet on the floor dramatically. She knew anything could happen at anytime.

She was glad that she had called 911. But what if something odd happened before they arrive. Like it happened in Ishbelle's house? Though none of them called 911.

The door bell rang again. She was cornered. She knew there was no other option.

"Would you open the door now?"

The voice came again. Twasnt harsh that time. Twas mild and somewhat stressed. She probably had misconceived in the first place.

She wanted to call 911 again and tell them that twas just a false alarm. But she couldn't be so sure yet. She was yet to confirm who was at the door.

"Jesus, save my soul."

She said finally before she wanted to bother the knob of the door. She hesitated again.

Wasn't it better for her to wait for the cops to arrive. And then if twas nothing to be scared off, she would plead with the cops and say twas a false call. Just a call of being careful or something. She would find something to say.

She bothered the door knob and opened the door. She didn't know why she did that. Wasn't she using her brain anymore?

She didn't pull the door wide yet. She was beginning to pull it gently when a force came from the outside.

The door opened wide at once and she was knocked back with force. She fell on her back. She began to scream.

Then stepped into the parlour was somewhat a huge guy wearing a pair of sneakers. That was the first thing she noticed. She stopped screaming.

She was scared to look up at whoever twas at that moment.

She kept tracing her face through the joggers up the tank top the fellow was putting on. She was moving back dramatically.

She dilly-dallied as she kept looking up till she got to the person's neck. It seemed like she knew who that was.

She was going to look up at the person when she heard,

"Sorry, Emma, didn't know that you were by the door."

Twas Eric's. She held him in her gaze. He was looking uncontrollably handsome. But one thing she had no idea of was what he was doing there. Why he was there.

Before she could give a reply, she began to hear the blaring of the police car siren. Eric helped her up. Though she wanted to hesitate.

She didn't know what to think.

"Are you alright?"

He asked as they both heard approaching steps. Then there was a knock on the door.

"Police."

A husky voice came from the door.

She walked off Eric's and walked to the door.

She opened the door and smiled. She stepped out before the police would step in.

"We got a call from here. The caller was feminine, and I'm sure you are. Are you alright?"

The man asked, breaking the words into plumpy syllables. He seemed to be English. What was a Briton doing in the Connecticut police department?

None of her business. She said,

"Sorry, twas a misconception. Didn't know what I was thinking. Got a knock on a door, freaked out, but happened twas a friend."

She said. She didn't know if she was making sense or not. Didn't matter too, she had made her point clear.

"Wonder that the police would now go on an escape mission to citizens houses at a door knock."

The officer said and turned to walk away. Emma stood there munching,

"Sorry."

She didn't mean to say that. The officer was rude. An opposite of the physical qualities he possessed.

She ignored the irritation and watched the police drive off. She didn't know what she was really thinking. She had no idea what Eric was doing there.

She turned to the door and sighed. She opened and walked in.

Eric wasn't in an eye shot. He wasn't in view. He wasn't in the parlour, neither was he in the dining room.

"Eric"

She called, freaking out. She didn't know what to think.

Calling the cops wasn't an option. She grabbed a long plastic fork under one of her chairs and kept calling his name.

Then she felt a touch from her back. She turned immediately and hit him with the fork on his head. He staggered back.

There was a magazine in his hand.