It was mid-winter. Adrian was coming home for the holidays. He arrived at the station around midnight, but no one was there to pick him up. He called his father, a police officer, but there was no response. With a sigh, he took a taxi home through the cold, silent streets.
As the cab turned into his neighborhood, something felt off. Every house was dark—no lights, no noise. Even the street lamps were dead. The entire place felt abandoned. Adrian's instincts screamed that something was wrong, but he tried to shake it off.
When he reached his house, he noticed the front door was slightly open. A chill ran through him. He called out for his dad, but there was no answer. Just as he stepped inside, the power suddenly came back on, flooding the room with light.
His phone rang—it was his father, who said he'd just gone out to buy groceries. Adrian exhaled in relief and went to his room to unpack.
A few minutes later, he remembered the front door was still open. As he went to close it, faint whispers drifted from the kitchen. His heartbeat quickened. He slowly peeked around the corner—and froze. A masked figure was slipping out through the front gate.
Adrian ran after him and grabbed the man's collar, but the stranger twisted free and shoved him to the ground. Adrian tried to get up, but before he could, something hard struck the back of his head. Everything went dark.
When he came to, hours later, the house was in disarray. Drawers were pulled open, papers scattered across the floor. His head throbbed as he stumbled toward the living room—only to stop cold.
His father's phone lay shattered on the ground.