The Intruder

by Freida McFadden

I probably won’t die tonight. And if I do, the good news is that nobody will miss me.

But just as I am about to put it down on the right corner, something stops me. There’s a pale face staring at me from outside my window.

There’s an intruder hiding in my toolshed, waiting to enter my home as soon as I crawl into bed and drift off into unconsciousness.

But if his interest in me isn’t romantic, what is it? Why is he always knocking on my door? There’s something about this man I don’t trust.

So why can’t I shake the feeling that something terrible is going to happen tonight?

“My mom said that a boy will never do anything nice for you unless he’s interested in you.”

What can I say? I am a sucker for child abusers getting what they deserve.