The broken glass in the window ceil was still shaking. My ears were bleeding from the scream; my throat on fire, but numb. Blood stained my hands and my body swayed unstably. This can't really be happening; it couldn't have happened. All I could think of was a way out. The tapping replayed over and over in my head, haunting me. My heart was working so hard that I could see my shirt beating. I staggered to the door to find it locked. Out of my mind I moved toward the closet and locked myself in... as if It wouldn't get me there. The smell of the ashes intoxicated me. I couldn't think and the thick air was hard to breathe. I began to wonder how long this would last, how long I would last. I could feel my heart pounding to the beat of the sound of the running footsteps that haunted my thoughts. I felt I was losing my mind, along with the will to live. I could've sworn I felt the breath on my back but when I grasped behind me I only felt emptiness, dense emptiness. I reached up to open the door, but my hand slid off. I clasped my hand around the door handle, harder this time. I barely managed to get the door open. When I looked at the palms of my hands they were covered with fresh blood. I looked in horror at the blood. I wasn't even sure whose it was anymore. I tried to gasp for air but I was choked by the stale atmosphere. I felt like a deer caught in a wildfire, death closing in on all sides with only time for remorse. Drops ran down my face, whether it was blood or tears I didn't know. I scrambled up the stairs falling on the way up. My front teeth met the carpet and I tasted more blood. I struggled to get back up and run. I found the room and everything was still there. I suppose I was expecting time to have reversed the events. I ran to the next bedroom. I saw the window and pried it open. It would be death to myself to jump from this height, but I could find no other way out. I put one leg through and was about to swing my other leg with it; preparing myself to jump but I heard footsteps. I ran to the closet knowing it would've been smarter just to jump. I heard another scream and I could almost feel the blood trickle out my ears. I felt It getting nearer and nearer and then I heard the slam.
Lock.
My window option was now ruled out. It was as if I was in some sort of game and happened to get the player with bad luck. I lay silently in the closet, not breathing and certainly not thinking. It could hear my thoughts. I pulled my eyelids as close together as I could. It's mangled face flashed through my head, smiling the smile that told exactly how it would get me this time. I felt steaming tears run down the side of my face as I fought to not scream, to remain holding my breath. I could hear It laugh, my stomach churned. Nauseating. I couldn't give in to It, but this seemed, no, it was inevitable. I listened to It's footsteps trail off. I let the tears continue to burn my face. I didn't have the strength to make them stop. I gagged in my mouth, my heartbeat matched It's footsteps. I couldn't handle this anymore. I cursed myself for not jumping when I had the chance. I could feel the blood in my ears drying up. I slowly, breathlessly, heaved my body in an upright position. I let the music fill me until I started to barely breathe again. It was the longest night of my life and I wondered if the sun had lost as much hope as I had. I took a single deep breath and opened the door of the closet. Inch by inch more of the room was uncovered with the door swinging away. I looked straight ahead and my eyes became fixed on the person before me. She was across the room. Blood was painted on her hands, fitting to her fingerprints. Her jeans so ripped and stained that it was hard to tell where it all had came from. Her hair was knotted and askew. Her ears had the slightest drops of blood on them. Her face was the worst part. Her nose had obviously been broken. She looked as if she had been weeping for years, but her eyes were full of fear. I was across the room and I could see this all so clearly. I moved toward her to see if I could help her, and she moved toward me. It had taken me a moment to realize it was a mere reflection. I was still in the house with It. I wanted to hurt myself for believing someone was in the same pain, and could help me. I could feel fierceness in my eyes but I only saw fear when I looked in the mirror. I ran back in the other room. She still laid there.
Dead.
The person who gave me life, dead. Irony. My life; her death. I looked for a phone but I knew It was smart enough to disconnect them. I heard another scream and I wondered if my head was on fire. Ashes. I could smell them again. I ran down the stairs trying hard not to fall again. I ran down the stairs trying hard not to fall again. I turned to run into the kitchen but was stopped dead in my steps. I'd almost tripped on something. There she laid, my baby, my sister, staring up at me with cold, dead eyes. I backed away overwhelmed with shock, but I was stopped. It. It was behind me, breathing on me, into me. I turned around and looked into It's cold blooded eyes. I didn't need words; It knew what I was thinking. It knew I had no will to live. It knew that to kill me would be a pleasure, but to keep me alive would kill my soul, just the same as It killed them. It smiled at me and I grasped It's throat. "Never again." I murmured. It had done some bad things in It's life, but this would be worse than It's death. All I remember is the room growing dim and It murmuring words to me. I fought him as long as I could before I passed out.
They say they thought I was dead when they found me. They think it was a miracle that I was alive. I thought it was strange I was existing, but all I could think about was It and what had happened. I watched the police officer when he came in my hospital room. My mind was fogged and it was almost impossible to focus, but I looked at the man in uniform. Now he wants answers, but all I have are questions. At first he tried to remind me who was asking who. As the questions turned into minutes and an hour drew near the man had finally broke down and started confessing all of his knowledge to me.
"No, they think they've almost caught him though. I know this must be tough for you kid." The uniformed man looked at me like a dying puppy. "They're on his trail. They'll catch him soon. Don't worry kid, you're safe here."
I looked at him in astonishment. Safe? I was with my family, in my home. I could feel my anger rising. I felt as if I would go mad if I didn't get out of that room. I told him I was really tired and didn't think I should talk anymore. He gazed at me sympathetically and followed my orders. I stared into the far wall of my room sorting thoughts. After some time I passed out again.
I awoke to seeing my mother in my room. She was smiling and Awyn was running around the tiny room playing some strange game with the floor tiles. I was beyond confusion. Perhaps I really had gone mad. In a moment the room faded to black and I lost sight of everything again.
When I opened my eyes I saw my empty hospital room. No mom and no sister in sight. I realized that I must have been dreaming. I rested my head on the pillow and saw my teddy bear tucked under my arm. I gently pulled it out. It could only be from one person. I read the note, and read it again. I shook my head and put the note on the table. He had sent it to me. Obviously the police weren't as close on His tracks as they thought they were. My mind was now flooded with memories of Him and me as children. Aren't older brothers supposed to protect you?
I opened my eyes and it was Saturday morning. I had fallen asleep on the couch sung to sleep by the sound of Awyn's kid shows on the television. Mom was running around the house trying to get everything ready in time for when he got here. Her son goes off to college for a semester and she's made enough food for a third world country. I suddenly remembered the dream, was it a dream? I looked around the room. Everything was as it was supposed to be. I wanted to warn mom, but who's to say it wasn't just my overactive imagination again? The room suddenly seemed cold to me and I went to the closet to get my brother's old jacket. I grabbed out the jacket, and I looked at the inside door handle and lost all breath. Dried blood was covering the handle, with my fingerprints smeared on it.