Natasha sat on the hospital bed—arms wrapped around her legs, reading a novel to pass the time while she waits for her dad to come take her home. At periodic intervals, she kept staring at the big clock that hung on the wall. She was getting upset at how long her dad was making her wait.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps outside the door and peeked her eyes to see what it was. Caught a glimpse of someone standing outside the door. Could tell that whoever was standing out there was masculine from its shadow.
“Who’s there?” she asked inquisitively, but there came no response.
Then her eyes narrowed. Placing a pen between the pages of the book, she closed it and set it aside. Felt like she was being watched, and it sent cold chills traveling down the length of her spine.
“Hello?” she called out nervously, leaping cautiously to the door. “Dad? Is that you?”
A knock sounded on the door and Natasha—frightened, stopped in her path. For a moment, she stared quietly at the door.