"We'll be back around midnight. I hope that's okay with you, Veronica."
"Oh don't worry about it Ms. C. You deserve a night out." Veronica Knight, a eighteen year old who had volunteered to baby sit for her neighbors, reassures the women, not knowing that this night is going to change her whole life. "I'll take care of Robert, don't worry." Robert is Mrs. Carter's nine year old son and he didn't seem too happy about having a baby sitter. Truth be told, Veronica didn't exactly want to be here either. After all, it was Friday night and the only reason she volunteered is because she owes Mrs. Carter for covering with her parents a couple weekends ago.
"Robert, you better behave." Ms. Carter shouts up the stairs before she gives a hurried thanks and rushes out the door, where her date was sure to be waiting. Veronica shakes her head and heads up the stairs. She finds the door to Robert's room and raps on the door slightly.
"Hey, buddy," She says quietly before pushing open the door. "What'cha want for dinner?" She questions and steps into the room. Robert has his face shoved in a gameboy, seems really into what he's playing. Even if she didn't want to be here, she might as well try and enjoy it and she might as well try and make the kid happy.
"Chocolate chip pancakes." He replies stubbornly, his gameboy blocking his face.
"Come and help me make them, kiddo." She chuckles. He gives a silent, 'really?' She nods in response and he is down in the kitchen before she can even blink.
x - x – x
Soon enough the pancakes are done and the two are cozy on the couch, watching one of Robert's favorite TV shows. Veronica had cut them up with a larger then usual knife since she had been unable to find any normal knives. The pancakes were quickly finished and both plates - now empty - and the knife were set aside on the coffee table.
"Robby?" Veronica asks, nudging the boy slightly. Asleep, good. It would give her time to relax but first she would have to get him a blanket and some pillows. She knows from experience that this couch is extremely uncomfortable. She pulls herself up and heads up the stairs. She fiddles around the wall, reaching blindly for the switch. The light clicks on softly and the hallway is illuminated in an almost creepy fashion. She finds the closet concealing the extra pillows and blankets. She grabs them quickly, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. The closet is closed quickly and the light is turned off. She heads down the stairs, nearly tripping as she nears the end.
"Veronica? Is that you, Veronica?" She can hear Robert but she can't see around the corner. She drops the blankets and nearly sprints to the living room. A shrill shriek fills her ears before she can reach the other room. She skids to a stop and her eyes grow wide. Someone - or something - is standing over Robert. It's back hunched, unnaturally, and a trickling sound fills her ears. Her heart beats loudly in her chest but somehow she manages to take silent steps to coffee table, where the knife lay. She takes a shallow breath and reaches out, her fingers grip the knife as quietly as she can. She pulls it close to herself but the thing, whatever it is, turns swiftly and faces her. Before she can think, her arm goes up and she swings wildly at whatever stands in front of her. It lets out a series of loud shrieks before she brings the knife back and gives it one last violent swing, stabbing the thing right where it's heart is suppose to be. It keels over, a long pained howl leaves it's mouth and it crumbles into what looks like dust.
"Robert." Veronica lets out a choked cry as she drops the knife and walks over to the couch, where Robert lay in a bloody mess. She drops to her knees and covers her face with her hands. If he wasn't dead before she walked in the room, he is certainly dead now. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes but she holds them in somehow and pulls herself up off the ground. Whatever that thing was is dead now and there was no one else to blame but herself. Her hands curl into fists as her eyes search the room. Where the hell had that thing come from? She hadn't heard anything and now her neighbor's nine year old son is dead. She runs a hand roughly through her hair and turns away from the gruesome scene. As soon as her foot touches the ground outside the house, her walk turns into a run and soon into a full on sprint. She can never come back; she can never go home because no one will ever believe what truly happened.
This is where Veronica Knight's story truly begins.