She's not supposed to be here

I don’t know how long she’s been standing there. 

I noticed her when I got home from work. The house was pitch-black, save for the moonlight seeping in through the kitchen window. I flipped the lightswitch on, and there she was. I don’t have a roommate or a girlfriend. I live completely alone. 

I don’t know who she is or what she wants. Her body is pale, her porcelain skin almost as white as the nightgown she’s wearing. Black, stringy hair obscures her face, but I know she’s looking at me. I can feel her eyes drinking me in, running along my flesh, crawling up and down my body like spiders. 

She hasn’t faltered since I found her. Not so much as a twitch - and neither have I. I’m paralyzed with fear, far too afraid to even move a muscle. I forgot my phone in my car, and I have this dreadful feeling that if I turn my back, I’m going to die. I don’t know if she’s going to stab me, or claw at my face, or sink her teeth into my neck. I just know that whatever I do, I can’t take my eyes off her, not even for a second.  We’re at a stalemate. 

But things just escalated. 

Because she’s started counting down from five, and I have a horrible feeling that something downright insidious is going to happen when she reaches zero. 

Five.

Her voice is sickly sweet with a deep undertone. No girl her age should sound like that.

Four. 

I… I think she’s smiling at me. 

Three.

She’s lifting her head, oh god. 

Two. 

The light’s flickering. I think the bulb is about to go out. 

One. 

I can see her clearly now. She’s the last thing I’ll set eyes on before I-

Pop.