The room was dark when Ella woke up, breathing hard. She had a terrible feeling she was no longer alone, but she saw nothing as she scanned the room. Her mind was foggy from sleep and blamed her unease on a forgotten nightmare. Deciding to get a drink, she threw off her blanket, hesitating before putting her feet on the floor. How many horror movies played out that way? A monstrous hand thrust out and grabbing some poor victim's ankle, pulling her under the bed into whatever abyss waited there.
She shook it off and firmly placed her feet on the carpet, although she quickly got up and nearly ran to the wall to flip the light switch. Fully lit, she could clearly see the room was delightfully free of monsters and murderers, and she sighed with relief. She silently scolded her silliness as she walked down the hall to her kitchen. It wasn't cold, but little chill bumps erupted on her arms and legs as she walked. She wore a pink tank top and a pair of blue cotton panties to bed. She thought about getting the robe from the end of her bed, but she was already in front of the fridge.
She took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with cold water from the fridge door. Yawning widely, she became impatient for the slow trickle to fill the glass. A few seconds later, she sipped the water, still calming herself. There was a noise behind her, small, like fabric rustling. She froze with the cup at her lips. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Placing the glass on the counter, she turned around to find the kitchen empty. She cursed herself for being so jumpy and paranoid as she went back to bed.
She knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep, even if it was just her imagination. She would pull up something funny on her phone to put her at ease. She climbed back under her covers, pulling them close around her, and took her phone from the bedside table. She turned on a sitcom, humming along with the familiar theme song.
She didn't hear the rustling when it happened again. The flickering light from her screen kept her from seeing the shadow as it came closer to the bed. Turned on her side, she didn't see the man standing beside the bed until his hand was on her mouth. Ella dropped her phone as the man turned her over. His hands were gloved, and his face was covered by a black ski mask. She was in shock, trying to reconcile her assumed imaginary intruder with this real life one now sitting on top of her. He had pulled off her blanket, knees on either side of her hips. One hand was still on her mouth, the other started touching her. He squeezed her breasts, one at a time, cupping them and pinching her nipples through her tank top.
"Don't scream," he told her. His voice was commanding. She shook her head to indicate she would not. Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, and she almost screamed anyway, but fear struck her dumb. She didn't see a weapon, but that meant nothing. He was strong, much stronger than she was. She tried to push him off, tried to kick him away, but he shoved her back into the bed, holding her down by her throat.
