You slide out of bed as quietly as you can, half-convinced you were just hearing a creepy, but normal late-night sound in your house. But you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong.

On quiet feet, you edge toward the door of your bedroom. You've left it open, as you normally do, and through it you can see into the dark hallway.

Nothing.

Cautiously, you creep into the hallway, straining your ears, and all the while thinking up possible explanations for the sound you heard. Maybe it was something shifting in your closet, like that coat you have that always likes to slide off the hanger? Maybe it was a branch or something falling outside your window?

Maybe it was the sliding door opening, says a back corner of your mind.

Maybe it was a sound you made moving around in the bed, rustling the sheets. Maybe it really was the house just, well...settling.

Maybe it was the sliding door opening, your brain repeats.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You wish your mind would be silent if it isn't going to be useful. You're tiptoeing down the hallway, alert for any movement in the darkness.

You emerge into the living area. To your right is the sofa, its back toward you, and your small flat-screen TV; past the sofa is the front door.

Across the shadowed room, straight ahead, you see your small dining table and its two chairs. The pendant light hangs centered over it, and a stack of papers, mail, and bills is crowded onto the tabletop.

The kitchen is untidy, with dirty dishes stacked at the side of the sink and a pizza box still sitting on the counter, waiting to be taken out.

The sliding glass door to the porch is shut, and the curtains hanging down on either side of it are still—

—and there's a human shape standing just inside. You didn't notice him at first; he blends in with the inky fall of the curtain, nearly invisible, but as you glance across, the highlight of the street light on his shoulder snags your eye like a fish hook.

It's definitely a male shape, tall and broad. You stare at the light on his shoulder for a moment, your entire body frozen with shock and fear, and then you glance up at his face. You can't see his features in the dark.

He's no more than 15 feet away, and there is nothing standing between you and him. You quickly assess your options.

Just this side of the stranger is the kitchenette, where your knife block full of potential weapons sits on the counter—but to reach it, you'll need to move toward him.

To your right is the front door, but the sofa stands between you and the door, and it's farther away than him.

If you run backward, it's nothing but a dead end; your bedroom and bathroom will permit no escape, and if he's armed, he'll corner you.

So, Kendall: what'll it be?

Run away from him toward the front door. [[Go to Chapter 65.]]

Run into the kitchenette and grab a knife to defend yourself. [[Go to Chapter 66.]]