The water is warm against my skin. I turn it up. I like it to almost burn me. I think I hear a faint knocking at the door. I listen, but it doesn't come again. I wash the shampoo out of my hair, and then I get out of the shower. I wrap a towel around my body and quickly dry my hair. There isn't the usual sound of clinking knives and forks on plates. Maybe they went out? Rubbing my eyes, I open the door that leads out to the upstairs hallway, which connects all the rooms together. I stop rubbing my eyes, and I look.
I freeze. I blink. I scream.