It was waiting for me when I got home on Monday. Placed on my desk was a stained, brown letter sealed tightly by a blue sticker. Blue. My favourite colour.

Picking it up, I ran my hands along its textured surface and carefully peeled it open.

Ten. Ten? That is all it read. In bold numbers placed in a cursive handwriting in blue. Blue again.

Must be a mistake, I thought as I threw it in the bin.

Tuesday.

I entered my room. It was waiting for me on my desk. A brown stained envelope but this time it had my name on it, splattered across this mystery paper in blue ink. ‘Mila.’

This time when I opened it the letter read ‘Nine.’ Nine? I threw it in the bin again.

Friday.

I received a letter every day this week counting down from ten. Today’s one- It read ‘five, halfway there.’ I was confused but thought nothing of it…

Today was Tuesday. It read ‘Two. Two left.’ I had discovered these letters must be counting down days. But why? And why is it written in my favorite colour?

It was Thursday, and i’d be lying if I said I was not scared. Because I am. I took the long way home from school to avoid what I knew would be sat on my desk.

The enveloped perched on my desk but my room felt strange. Not as empty as it normally feels after school. I peeled it open, breathing heavily and wetting the paper with anxious sweat.

It read ‘Zero. Mila.’

Suddenly the front door slammed shut. My mum was working. Grandma was meant to be coming in an hour. An hour. Grandmas never early.

A shrill, spine shivering voice rang out. ‘It’s over.’

That was not my grandma's voice.