In the living room, Rafe Harlow sat on a noiseless swinging chair, a braille document resting on his thigh as he read it with his fingers.
When footsteps filled the air, he immediately stopped swinging the chair and tilted his ear toward the direction it came from.
All these while, it was just them in the house and Chad had only gone to the kitchen a few minutes ago to make them tea, so it had to be him
"You returned quickly. Did you even brew it properly?"
But the man didn't respond and simply continued approaching. The nearer he got, the heavier his breathing grew.
Growing apprehensive from the gnawing silence, Rafe gripped the sides of the swinging chair and reached for his cane.
He probed the the air in front of him and swallowed when someone pushed against him, forcing him back.
"Help… did something happen?" He called out again, rising to his feet.
But just like the first time, all he heard was the man's breath, heavier and quicker now.
He blinked.
