The morning light crept in far too early for my liking, slanting through the curtains and stabbing me in the eyes. I groaned, rolling over and trying to bury my face in the pillow, but there was no escaping the sun. My body ached from the events of the night before—apparently, fighting off intruders with cookware wasn't something I was physically prepared for. 

Who knew?

For a brief, blissful moment, I thought maybe it had all been some kind of fever dream. But then I glanced over at my nightstand, where the pendant lay, glinting innocently in the morning light, and reality came crashing back in.

"Right. That happened," I muttered, rubbing my temples. My gaze flicked to my door, half expecting someone to barge in and demand an explanation for the chaos I'd left in the kitchen. But the house was eerily silent. Again.

Apparently, the aftermath of a literal break-in wasn't enough to stir anyone in this household. Not my mom, who'd probably blame me for the mess without even asking why it existed. Not Evan, who was probably too busy being everyone's golden child to care. And not Grandma, who—okay, Grandma was probably the only one I didn't hold a grudge against at this point. But even she hadn't noticed anything unusual.

I swung my legs out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. My muscles protested every step as I trudged to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face in an attempt to wake up. The reflection staring back at me in the mirror wasn't exactly reassuring—dark circles under my eyes, a faint scratch on my cheek from who knows where, and a general aura of "I've been through too much, and it's not even noon."

"Looking great, Alexia," I said to myself, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Really thriving."

By the time I made it downstairs, the kitchen was back to its usual spotless state. Someone—probably Grandma—had cleaned up the broken plates and scattered silverware, leaving no trace of the chaos from last night. For a second, I wondered if I'd imagined it all, but the soreness in my arms and the faint bruises on my palms told a different story.

Grandma was at the stove, humming softly as she flipped pancakes. The smell of butter and syrup filled the air, and for a moment, I felt a flicker of normalcy. Maybe I could just... pretend everything was fine. Maybe I didn't have to bring up the intruder or the weird obsession with the necklace. Maybe I could have one morning that didn't spiral into complete insanity.

"Morning, sweetheart," Grandma said, glancing over her shoulder with a warm smile. "You look like you didn't sleep much. Everything okay?"

Well, so much for pretending.

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "Uh, yeah. Just... weird dreams," I said, which wasn't entirely a lie. It was just easier than explaining the frying pan duel.

Grandma raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, eat something. You'll feel better."

I sat down at the table, my fingers brushing against the pendant around my neck. It felt heavier now, like it was carrying all the questions I didn't have answers to. Who was that guy? How did he even know about the necklace? And why did he think breaking into my house was a good idea?

"Something on your mind?" Grandma's voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up, startled. "What? No. I mean, yeah, kind of."

Grandma set a plate of pancakes in front of me, her eyes kind and patient. "You can talk to me, you know."

I hesitated, debating whether to tell her everything. But then I remembered her reaction yesterday, how she'd brushed off my concerns about the necklace. 

Would she even believe me?

 Or would she just chalk it up to an overactive imagination?

"It's... nothing," I said finally, stabbing a pancake with my fork. "Just tired."

Grandma didn't look convinced, but she let it go. "Well, if you're feeling tired, maybe take it easy today. No need to push yourself."

Easier said than done. 

The rest of the day stretched out before me like a giant question mark, and I had no idea what to do with it. Every time I tried to focus on something else, my mind kept circling back to the intruder. 

Who was he? 

Why the necklace? 

And more importantly, was he going to come back?

The day passed in a haze of restless energy. I tried distracting myself—scrolling through my phone, half-watching some mindless TV show, even attempting to read—but nothing worked. My thoughts kept spiraling, each one more unsettling than the last.

By evening, I was practically bouncing off the walls, the unease bubbling inside me like a pot about to boil over. I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, that the break-in was just the beginning. And the worst part? No one else seemed to care.

Dinner was its usual chaotic mess. Mom was busy fussing over Evan, who had apparently aced some math test. Dad was buried in his laptop, barely looking up from his work. And Grandma—sweet, wonderful Grandma—was the only one who noticed my silence, shooting me the occasional concerned glance.

"So, Alexia," Mom said suddenly, her tone sharp enough to make me flinch. "Care to explain why half the kitchen was a disaster this morning?"

Ah, there it was. The inevitable blame.

"I—" I started, but she didn't let me finish.

"I don't know what you were doing down there in the middle of the night, but you could've woken the whole house," she said, her voice dripping with annoyance.

"Yeah, because that would've been such a tragedy," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I said, stabbing my fork into my mashed potatoes. "Sorry for existing, I guess."

Mom narrowed her eyes at me, but before she could launch into another lecture, Grandma stepped in. "Leave her be, dear. You did worse when you were her age! Remember that one room you wanted to paint?"

"We don't talk about that!"

"Thank you," I said, shooting Grandma a grateful look.

The rest of dinner passed without incident, but the tension lingered, thick and suffocating. By the time I escaped back to my room, I was ready to scream into a pillow.

The door to my room slammed shut behind me, and I let out a loud, frustrated groan before diving face-first into my pillow. Then I screamed. Not one of those delicate, movie-like screams, but a real, raw, lungs-on-fire kind of scream that made the pillow muffle half the sound and still wasn't enough to get it all out.

When I finally ran out of breath, I rolled over, flopping dramatically onto my back and staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to the universe. Spoiler: it didn't.

"What is my life right now?" I muttered to myself, throwing an arm over my eyes. "Seriously, Alexia, what is this?"

I couldn't help it. The words just spilled out, echoing in the stillness of my room like I was trying to convince myself that this was all some kind of fever dream.

"Let's recap, shall we?" I said to the empty air, gesturing wildly like I was presenting a twisted PowerPoint. "Step one: random family drama. Check. Because heaven forbid I go one day without being the family punching bag. Step two: actual, real-life home invasion. At night. While everyone else was snoring peacefully and dreaming about rainbows or whatever."

I sat up, crossing my legs and hugging a pillow to my chest. "Oh, but wait—step three is the best part! Nobody believes me. Not Mom, not Evan, not even sweet, lovely Grandma, who I'm pretty sure is the only person in this house who doesn't actively want to strangle me."

I paused, letting the sarcasm settle in the air. Then I tossed the pillow aside and stood up, pacing the length of my room like a detective in a bad TV drama.

"And let's not forget the pièce de résistance: this stupid necklace." I grabbed the pendant hanging around my neck, holding it up to the light. It sparkled innocently, as if it hadn't been the center of all my problems for the past 48 hours. "What even are you? Some cursed artifact? A beacon for weirdos? A shiny excuse for people to break into my house and scare the living daylights out of me?"

I dropped the necklace, letting it rest against my chest again. My pacing slowed, and I leaned against the edge of my desk, staring down at the floor. The adrenaline from earlier had finally worn off, leaving a hollow, exhausted ache in its place.

"Okay, but seriously," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is going on? Why would someone go through all that trouble just for a stupid piece of jewelry? And why me? I didn't ask for any of this."

The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Of course, they were unanswered—who was I even talking to? Myself? The pendant? The random guy who'd broken in? I let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking my head.

"You're losing it, Alexia," I muttered. "Completely and utterly losing it."

I flopped back onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling again. The events of the night replayed in my mind like a broken record—the sound of shattering glass, the stranger's face, the panic that had gripped me when I realized what was happening. And then the sheer absurdity of it all, me wielding a frying pan like some kind of deranged chef-turned-vigilante.

"I mean, who even does that?" I said aloud, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "Who breaks into a house for a necklace? And who fights them off with kitchenware? Am I secretly starring in some low-budget action movie and nobody told me?"

I snorted, the sound half-laugh, half-sigh. "At least I didn't die. That's something, right? Small victories and all that."

My gaze drifted to the window, where the moonlight cast long, pale shadows across the floor. For a moment, the silence felt comforting, like a soft blanket wrapping around me. But then the unease crept back in, a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispering that this wasn't over.

Because it wasn't, was it? This wasn't some random, one-time thing. That guy had been after the necklace. And as long as I had it, I wasn't safe. None of us were.

I swallowed hard, the weight of that realization settling over me like a heavy stone. "Great. Just great," I muttered. "As if my life wasn't complicated enough, now I've got to worry about mysterious thieves and magical jewelry. Awesome."

I turned onto my side, curling up under the covers and clutching the pendant tightly in my hand. It felt cool against my skin, a strange, soothing presence despite all the chaos it had caused.

"Fine," I whispered, my voice trembling but determined. "If you're going to be a problem, then I guess I'll just have to figure out what's going on. But you'd better be worth it, you shiny little troublemaker."