It was strange to feel this dullness inside of you again. It had only been mere hours since it had faded and now it was as strong as ever with a slight burn that made the air inside your lungs unbearable to breath.

Your eyes wandered through the room. Everything was unchanged, from the walls to the paintings and the carpets.

If you wouldn't have know better you would have sworn you were just confused because of the grief. But you weren't. You knew.

And for some reason that someone wanted to talk to you.

A dull suspicion awoke in the back of your head. But you did not dare say it out loud. It would have been insane, cruel even. Especially when it would turn out to be false.

But if it were false why did you even have this feeling in the first place?

As you passed the desk with the landline waiting on it, you stopped and waited for a moment.

You argued with yourself. If you were to call anywhere now, whether it was Phillip or 911, and it all turned out to be a fantasy, you would be finished. The company would be put in a bad light.

Besides, how would you explain a dead body in your house?

Sure, Michael had been old and had probably suffered from advanced Alzheimer's disease. But that didn't change the fact that he had obviously been poisoned. Even if cyanide was hard to prove, you knew as well as anyone that it had been the cause of death.

And officially you were all alone in that house. The simple explanation would have been that you acted strangely after your father's death and poisoned Michael.

You'd be hospitalised if you were lucky. Otherwise it would be prison. You couldn't prove your innocence and a footprint on the carpet wasn't a watertight alibi.

So you grabbed the phone.

But it didn't even take two numbers on the number field before you noticed that something was wrong with the connection. Noise could be heard in the background.

Still, you dialled the number for the emergency services.

Nothing happened.

Silence.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and hung up. Your hand rested on the receiver for a moment before you leaned down to take a look under the table.

The cable had been cut.

"Of course...", you sighed with an unimpressed expression in your eyes. "Anything else would have been too easy."

What else did you expect?

That only confirmed your suspicions.

There was someone in the house. And this someone didn't want you to be able to call for help. So it was either a completely mad axe murderer or an overly careful thief.

Neither was pleasant.

However, there was one ace you had up your sleeve. Or rather, in your pocket.

You dug out your mobile phone. A message popped up on the cracked screen.

Phillip.

Everything in you resisted against calling him again. He probably already knew you were crazy. And asking him to help you now would probably be the last straw that would break the camel's back for him.

So you dialled the number of the police.

But when you put the phone to your ear you were shocked to find that there was no connection. To be sure, you glanced at the display in the top corner of the screen.

Not a single bar was visible. And the mobile network wasn't active either.

"What?", you frowned, staring at the cracks.

That couldn't be.

There was only one telephone pole in this area and it had once been erected just for this house. The connection must have been broken.

Usually this only happened when service people came to do the annual check. But that had already been this year. And there were always fixed appointments. All of them announced themselves personally before their work.

Unless the burglars had taken care of the signal themselves.

"Fuck.", you groaned but moved on anyways.

What did you have to loose?

No one was left to be worried for anymore. And if you were honest with yourself you didn't even care either.

"All right...", you expel a deep breath. "Then let's do this."

As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the door behind which the phantom was waiting. With every step you took up the stairs, your body bristled. It was as if your innermost self was trying to protect itself.

Your instinct wanted to run away. But your brain refused.

You needed to know what was happening in your life. Everything was changing as if the foundation was breaking under your feet. Everything that had happened in the last few hours could not be a coincidence.

It had been planned. You were convinced of that. You just wondered who could have had an interest in harming you.

You stopped in front of the office door.

Your gaze wandered to the right. There was nothing. Everything was silent.

Then you looked to the left. Still nothing.

The house was as you knew it.

And once again it felt like you had made it all up. As if your own mind was trying to drive you into insanity.

Quickly you glanced at your phone.

23:11.

Later than it felt.

Your hand was already hovering over the door handle when you paused and glanced over your shoulder down the stairs.

No one was behind you.

But something felt strange.

Your eyes returned to the display. Then you put the phone against the post of the banister. For some reason it felt like it was about to become useful.

With a deep breath, you grasped the door handle.

You hesitated one last time, hoping that something would move behind the door or that voices would reveal who was waiting for you.

But nothing.

Luck was not on your side this time. So you did what was left to do and opened the door to enter the room.

"And as always, the main prize takes the longest to show up.", a voice mocked, both amused and annoyed. "You have always acted as if you were the chosen one. But you were just a surprise and not a plan."