How I Met Sam Part 9

So I got the spare key. Got the room ready. Met the dashingly handsome Mr. Sam Logan himself. Talked for a brief time before heading to bed. The content of that conversation?
"Here's your room, it doubles as the library and office."
"Oh, thanks. So, what kind of books do you like to read?"
"Russian History and Poetry."
[thinks to himself: 'Hmmm. We have nothing in common.']
[thinks to herself: 'Hmmm. I didn't think an engineer would have any interest in history or literature.']
And he didn't. And as far as reading interests, it seemed we DIDN'T have much in common.

We said good night and went to bed. My room was just down the hall from his, and my parents room was opposite his room.

At three a.m. I was awoken from my sleep - and I happen to be a deep sleeper. I heard shouts, screams, commotion. I tried to go back to sleep. I didn't want to have to get up. I heard words such as, "God send your angels!" "Lord, get these men away!" “
God, HELP ME! I am ready to die!”Could it be our houseguest was particularly devoted to prayer to be praying this early in the morning? It sounded like he was dramatically reading the imprecatory Psalms. But it was more than dramatic. It was chilling. My second thought was that maybe it was a nightmare.
I rolled over and tried to dismiss it and go back to sleep. But the cries continued. This time I got up.

"Okay," I mused, "I'll see what's going on..."

So I did. And to my shock I saw lights on in my parents’ room. I went over to their open door and saw they were lying on their stomachs with their hands tied behind them. They weren't moving and their faces were away from me. There was a man with a knife digging through the drawers. I stood at their door and gaped.


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