The sun was shining ever so brightly and the neighborhood was full of chattering children dancing in the sprinklers. I paid no heed to the delight, as I sprinted across the block. I could feel the stares. Such exertions were not expected in such heat and I could feel the hot sweaty liquid dripping off my body. I was overheated and I swear that you could hear the sweat drip onto the sidewalk.
My chest heaved and my body blistered. I could feel my skin searing and stinging but I ignored it. I was fueled by a greater cause.
From a distance, the dandelions scattered among the hedges looked like the tape of a crime scene. For a second, my heart leapt but my hopeful hallucinations were shot as I neared the house. As I strode past the cautionary fence of hedges that barred my way into my home, I struggled to control my shaky breaths. My throat was tight and my fingernails scraped red imprints into my palm. They hadn't come yet. They hadn't heeded my call.
I trampled over the artful cobblestone steps that lead to the front door. They jarred my gait, somehow. It was if someone had uprooted the stones and shoved them out of place. I haphazardly trekked over them, and then climbed up the crooked front steps.
Someone had been here, someone who shouldn't have been allowed entry.
The door was unlocked, a further sign of an interlopers presence. I felt a roaring in my gut and a cloying voice whispered warnings in my ears.
Do not enter aloneā¦
I paused for a moment, fingering my cell phone. I could call someone, perhaps, and beg them to get the police. Except I'd tried to explain to them, tried to emphasize the danger that we all were in, but they wouldn't listen. They were trapped in the monotonous drudgery of life, unable to see what was happening right outside. Oh the fools. It had taken some time to realize why and how this fiend was after us but when I had, I had tried to find someone who could help us and who could protect us from the hell that now raged inside my home.
When they realized, when someone came to find me, they would know how they had failed to protect themselves and me from the havoc that was waiting inside.
I was terrified, almost paralyzed with fear. I reassured myself, telling myself that they would thank me later for what I was about to do. My cowardly self was all that stood between the murderer and my family. My love and my baby might be inside, trapped and defenseless against an unassuming killer.
I ignored my terror and pushed open the door. My sweaty palms stuck to the handle, warning me that if I were to let go, I would be trapped inside, alone with a monster. Only a beast would want to separate my family, separate me from the only world I had ever known.
Despite the pressing panic, I knew I could not stop now. I was here and there was no time to spare. It could be mere seconds until the merciless being could destroy my world.
I pried my hand off of the doorknob and the heavy wood closed behind me with a resounding click.
There was no room for hesitation. I knew where they would be. Stealthily, I tip-toed to the living room. Each step caused my spine to tremble with terror. My shadow was hesitant to follow me. I could feel her lingering by the doorway, clutching the doorknob with insubstantial hands.
Oh you poor dear, I told her, as I gazed backwards. She abjectly stooped by the door, ever so helpless and frail. It wouldn't do for her to follow me to my doom and I let her remain there, safe in the way that I never would be.
I crept on. My shadow-less being felt light. I did not have to strain against the flimsy weight of my shadow. Each step felt like flying. I was floating there now, to the scene that would break my heart.
The unforgiving hardwood shifted into a crushed carpet, marking the threshold between hallway and panic. I was suddenly fascinated by the paradox of this border. I chuckled to myself softly. When I entered the living room would become the room of death. In fact, it may already be stained by mortality's permanent blemish.
I thought of them, maybe waiting there, to kill me. I thought of them perhaps muffling the noises of my dear ones, trying to lure me into the open with the misleading silence.
Waiting was only making it worse. Having come this far, it would be impossible to turn back without detection. I continued forth, strengthened by my determination to see this through.
The room was not well lit, I had to blink and wait before my spreading pupils could consume the images.
I could feel my heart palpitate, as the scene grew clearer. Oddly, the room was devoid of any human presence but I knew they must have been hiding, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
Yet, I knew that my fear had not been misguided. The pale cream walls were streaked with the decaying tinge of blood. The white carpet was matted and stained. I gulped. They had taken my other selves, my dear ones. Hands shaking, I explored the room, shoving furniture, looking for them. How could I have been so late?
I only hoped that help would come. I was possessed, searching the room, uprooting my prized ornate mirror and other decorations in hopes of finding them and helping them.
There appeared to be nothing. Until something dark caught my eye. I mentally begged that it would not be the children, lying there, ever so still like a crumpled sheet.
Curiously, it was a ball of fabric that lay in that desolate corner. Dazedly, I grabbed it, holding on to this one sign of the intruder. It had the coarse feel of polyester but, to the touch, it was somewhat flakey. I shook it out carefully. The fabric stuck together, glued with dried blood. Still, the movement of the fabric gave it some form. It was a ladies suit jacket. The sleeves were saturated with blood, as if someone had been scraping away at the skin underneath.
Horrified, I collapsed by the stained walls. So they had found my darlings. They had managed to evade my best efforts at bravery. Against my back, I felt the wall radiate coolness as if it was trying to heal the shock.
Bereft, I sat there, waiting for them to kill me or for someone to come help me. I must have passed out there, exhausted from my courageous exertion.
I awoke to the sound of the door springing open, and the sound of a sharp cry. Sirens echoed in the background.
Startled, I pulled myself from the heavy carpet, which was drenched with blood.
I shook my head at my obliviousness, how could I not have realized the blood had soaked the carpet? I said, farewell, to the blood on the ground, knowing that it was all that remained of one of my dear ones. Of my other half.
I sprang away from the wall and towards the door where whomever entered would either be my savoir or my murderer. Quickly, I told myself as I raced to the door. Except, I hadn't taken the havoc of the room into account. I felt myself flying, tripping into a sharp wedge of glass that sliced my side. My mirror. Instinctively, I righted it and noticed that it had been cracked in the chaos. I placed it gently against the wall and hurried on, trying to disregard the imminent bad luck that the crack warned against.
Though I tried to keep moving, I couldn't help but check behind me. I could feel someone following me. The intruder did not want me to get to the door. Thus, the newcomer at the door must be my friend. I continued to run, as fast as I could, to the door but I felt the presence following me, entrancing me. Stopping, I slowly turned backwards.
I could hear my husband calling out to me, his voice mingled with the child's yowling. She was in his arms and I could hear him racing to me.
That no longer mattered. The fiend had caught me with its eyes.
I looked. There the murderer stood, glass-eyed and bloody. Its arms had been clawed at until they had become a tender red.
The defining feature, however, was a sharp glassy line that slashed its face in half. It was a demon, I thought as I succumbed to the floor, as an escape from its dreadful entrapment.
It mirrored me however, and it stared at me unblinkingly as they came for me.
My last glimpse, when they took me away, was my shadow, lurking by the door, promising to wait for my return.
