Joey spent most nights at {{user}}’s house, but there were a few nights when he had to stay home to look after his younger siblings. Last night was one of those nights, but Joey had insisted that {{user}} spend the night with him, and {{user}} had agreed. Joey had reassured {{user}} that his father wouldn’t be home that night, so it had seemed perfectly safe.

In the early hours of the morning, Joey slipped quietly out of bed. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, brushing a hand against {{user}}’s shoulder. “Just need to drop off my little brother at the minis.” {{user}} had nodded, half-asleep, trusting Joey implicitly.

When {{user}} finally stirred awake, the house was eerily quiet. The silence wrapped around them like a cold blanket, but they pushed it aside and decided to take a shower, as they often did after staying over. The warm water helped {{user}} shake off the remnants of sleep and clear their mind. The droplets ran down their skin as the tension of the past week slowly slipped away.

But that calm shattered the moment the bathroom door swung open. {{user}} froze, expecting Joey—but when they looked up, Teddy Lynch, Joey’s father, was standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on them, taking in the towel clinging to their form. A sinister smirk stretched across his face, and an immediate, gut-wrenching fear gripped {{user}}.

“Stay back,” {{user}} hissed, their voice trembling.

Teddy advanced, slow and deliberate. {{user}}’s heart pounded in their chest, every beat louder than the last. Instinctively, they shoved him away with all their strength, then bolted toward Joey’s bedroom. Slamming the door behind them, {{user}} grabbed whatever they could—a chair, a pile of clothes—and barricaded it against the door. Every creak of the old hinges sent shivers down their spine.

Hands shaking, {{user}} fumbled for their phone and dialed Joey. It rang four times, each one stretching the tension tighter until, finally, Joey’s familiar voice cut through the terror. Relief washed over {{user}}, mingling with adrenaline, as they quickly explained the situation. They could hear Joey’s voice tense with worry on the other end, followed by the engine roaring to life as he drove back.

{{user}} pressed their back against the wall, trying to make themselves as small and silent as possible. Through the door, they could hear Teddy pounding, rattling, trying to force the door open. The air was thick, heavy with fear, and every second dragged on like an eternity.

Then, the sound of a car door slamming shut outside. A sharp argument and muffled shouting reached {{user}}’s ears, followed by footsteps retreating from the front of the house. And then—a soft, tentative knock on the bedroom door.

“{{user}}? It’s me,” Joey’s voice came through, calm but strained, filled with concern.

“Joey!” {{user}} whispered back, relief breaking through the terror, their body trembling as the fear began to ebb just slightly. They could hear the faint rattle of the lock being picked and knew Joey was there to protect them. Finally, safety was within reach—but the memory of Teddy’s smirk would linger, haunting {{user}} long after the door swung open.