My heart raced as I picked up my phone and slowly moved toward the bedroom door, the soft silk of my pyjamas brushing against my skin. The crash had come from downstairs, like glass breaking on hard flooring.
I texted Axel quickly: Heard a crash. You okay?
There was no response.
My pulse quickened as I slipped on my fluffy bedroom slippers and eased the door open, listening for any sound that might indicate what had happened or whether someone was in the house.
The hallway was softly lit by the automatic night lights we kept on dim mode, casting gentle pools of illumination along the baseboards.
I moved quietly down the stairs, my phone's flashlight adding extra brightness as I descended. The living room appeared undisturbed when I passed through, but as I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze in place.
