Insight of a Kenyan Girl

The night had wrapped around us gently. Outside, the world murmured in low winds and far-off barking dogs, but inside, the house felt like a held breath soft, suspended, safe.

I was half-asleep, curled into Patty, the TV flickering forgotten images across the wall. He ran his fingers absentmindedly along my arm, tracing lines like he was learning a language only my skin could speak.

“I should head to bed,” I murmured, voice thick with sleep.

He didn’t reply immediately. Just kissed the top of my head and whispered, “I’ll check the doors.”

I nodded, already sliding off the couch.

It must have been past midnight when I stirred again. Not to a sound but the absence of one. The fan was still whirring, but something in the air had shifted. It was too still. Like the silence had turned sharp.

Then I heard it.

A faint creak.

The sound of a wooden gate… or a foot on gravel.

I sat up, heart suddenly racing, eyes straining in the dark.

From the hallway, a shape moved just a shadow, but I gasped.

“Shh, it’s me,” Patty whispered, stepping closer. “Don’t turn on the light.”

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to the window, peering through the curtain with careful precision. His movements were no longer soft or lazy. They were calculated, sharp.

That’s when I saw it. Tucked in the back of his waistband a gun.

My breath caught.

He turned, catching the panic in my eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quickly, voice low but steady. “I need you to trust me right now.”

I nodded, but my body had already gone cold.

“There’s someone outside,” he continued. “Has been standing near the fence for the last ten minutes.”

My skin prickled.

“Are you sure?”

“I saw the glint of something metallic. I don’t know if it’s a weapon or just nerves, but I don’t like it.”

He walked to me, quiet and careful, like I was a cornered animal he didn’t want to startle.

“Come here,” he said.

I did.

He cupped my face with one hand, the other still loose near his side. “Whatever happens, stay behind me.”

I wanted to ask a thousand questions who are you, why do you have that, what did you bring into my home but none of them mattered right now. All I knew was that he was steady. He wasn’t afraid.

And somehow, I felt safer standing behind him than I ever did standing on my own.

He kissed me then urgent, but not rushed. Like he was saying goodbye without saying it.

I grabbed his shirt. “Don’t go out there. Call someone.”

“I’ve already sent a ping,” he said simply. “Backup’s five minutes away.”

My heart stuttered. “Backup?”

He looked at me then, really looked. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you. But right now, I need you to trust that I’m not the threat.”

A knock.

Not on the door. On the window.

Three slow taps.

We both froze.

Patty moved like water quiet, smooth, silent. Gun drawn now, eyes sharp.

He gestured for me to stay low as he crept toward the window.

Another knock. This time harder. Closer.

Then nothing.

Only silence again.

Except now it wasn’t calm. It was a warning.