Mara Ellison counted six pears in the bowl on Sunday night. On Monday morning there were five. It is a small thing - the kind of small thing a woman who knows her own house notices, and everyone else waves away. But the small things keep coming. A door she knows she locked. Footsteps that stop when she listens. And the slow, cold understanding that someone else has been living inside her home's rhythms, learning her the way she has learned the width of her own staircase.

To prove it, she will have to do what nobody believes she needs to do - and the truth about the other occupant is worse than the fear.

A psychological thriller about the terror of not being believed, and what a woman does when the only way out is through.