Chapter 2
It was late by the time she stepped from her bathroom. Wrapped around her thin frame was her bathrobe, shaded the color of pale rose petals. The bath had been hot, scalding almost, in an attempt to drive the confused thoughts of the argument with her mom out of her mind. Her skin changed to the color of her robe by the time she stepped from the water. It had calmed her as she thought, but it didn't make the guilt go away.
This was her mom after all. And after loosing everyone she was all the poor woman had left. Was it really fair for her to do this to her? This woman was her mother, the one who raised her and taught her. The one who, aside from maybe Santana, encouraged her to do the things she loved and to be happy, no matter what path she picked.
But then again this was only one night with Santana, and it was her birthday. It really meant a lot to her friend, the two of them spending time together alone. It didn't happen often, with her going on tour all the time. And Santana's schedule wasn't exactly empty either. She was a performer too, a singer, and one with a voice that caused Brittany's heart to melt every time she heard the sound. Tana was still a bit of a bitch when she talked to people. But she was different to Brittany. She was soft and tender when she touched her. Her kisses were gentle and smooth.
Santana was still in love with her, Brittany knew that, even after the years of separation and reunion their lives had taken them on. Brittany was the one who had not explored her heart thoroughly enough to be able to say for certain of her love was the same. She cared for her high school friend, but who was to say if it was love or not? How could she know?
She left the bathroom in her room and sat on the edge of her bed. The water she had left in the tub, bubbles still clinging to the surface and walls. She may decide to use that water later. She still wasn't sure what she was doing with her evening.
She looked at her pillow where her phone lay. She had started keeping her phone in the bed with her in case someone, usually Santana called. With the both of them traveling for performances and recordings the both of them were, more often than not, in different time zones. It was impossible to tell when in the night she'd get a call. Finally with a heavy sigh of defeat she called Santana.
"Hey Britt-Britt." She heard Santana's voice and smiled just a little. The expression quickly fell away. "You all ready for tonight? I got a little something for us." Brittany could almost picture the toy Santana was referring to in her teasing tone. It had to be better than the one she got.
"I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about that . . ." Brittany said hesitantly.
"Please, don't tell me what you're gonna say has to do with your mom."
"You know me to well, don't you?"
"I always will." Brittany tried to keep herself focused.
"Well, it is our one night out. You know, every Friday. I've told you before."
"Too many times." Santana's voice was heavy with annoyance. "I'm really sick of hearing about this B."
"I just don't want to hurt her feelings," Brittany tried to defend her mom, "My leaving was hard enough with her."
"Look, this is supposed to be your life. You can't just let her live it for you."
"I know I had every right to leave. That's not the point though." Brittany sighed sadly, "I realized you were going to come over but-"
"Do you have any idea how much trouble I went through to set this up with you?"
"Tana . . . it's only one date. Couldn't we celebrate some other night?"
"Brittany you can't just-"
"I just don't wanna hurt her feelings. She is my mom after all." She knew Santana wouldn't sympathize with her. Where Brittany's mom had supported her long after her high school years Santana's had tossed her out a month after graduation telling her to fend for herself. The two never had much of a relationship anyway. There was a long moment of silence and Brittany waited for Santana to say something.
"I was just . . . " Her friend mumbled, "really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I miss you Brit. Probably more than you understand."
"I do," Brittany fought her hardest to keep herself from giving into the sadness and disappointment in Santana's perfect voice. "I will spend time with you. Some other night though. Not on a Friday."
"I love you Brittany." Santana said,
"I love you too." Brittany said, "I'll see you later. I promise." Santana said goodbye first and Brittany put the phone down slowly, sadly. She hated that she had to let her down like that. Only one good thing seemed to come from it: Now she wouldn't have to give her that creepy ass doll. She resolved to put it back in the box and send it back then get herself something to eat real quick. After that she'd drive over to her mom's place. It'd be a nice surprise for her. She'll find something for Tana tomorrow. A real toy, one she wouldn't be able to resist.
"Horary for Friday night." Brittany mumbled to herself.
She first went to the kitchen, flicking on the switch on the wall. She fetched herself some chicken from the fridge and took one of the silver pans from under the oven. She took the cut of meat and put it in the middle of the tray. Looking at it for a minute she stopped. The meal was big enough for her and Tana to share, that was the original plan, but was far too much for her to eat by herself. So she took a small knife from a rack on the counter and cut the meat roughly in half before sticking in the oven and turning it on. She had never been much of a cook.
Brittany went to the living room while it cooked and turned on the light close to the sofa as she entered. The world was so dark outside she could see the stars. They were pretty, watching her through the window. She smiled at the sight of the twinkling celestial lights, though it was forced. She didn't really feel like smiling. She strode across the carpeted floor and walked around the couch. She then looked around in confusion.
The doll was not on the coffee table where she had left it "What'd you do, fall of the table?" She asked. She bent down next to the table and lifted the chain she had seen wrapped around the doll's middle. The scroll was on the table as well, but nothing else. She lifted the chain of gold, studying it for a moment, almost as if not believing this was the actual chain. But it was, and she dropped it back onto the table. She crouched over to look under the table. It was not there as well.
"Where'd you go?" She asked it as thought it would hear her and pulled the coffee table away from the sofa. Bending on her knees again she reached underneath. Her hand plunged repeatedly into the unseen darkness and explored the length of the couch. "Where are you?"
She cried out slightly and retracted her hand. Straightening up she looked at the tip of her finger where blood was beginning to flow. She looked at it in disbelief for a second then sucked off the crimson stain. "I guess I found you," She said, "Or at least the tip of your spear." She stood and walked around to the back of the couch so she could reach it easier, sucking on her finger as she did. "But how you got that far back . . ."
She reached in again, this time much more cautiously and pulled the spear from under the couch. She held it for a moment before dropping it by her knees. "We're getting warm." She ducked her head down, close to the floor and looked under again saying, "Come out come out wherever you are." Like a child playing a game. But it was not there.
This is stupid Brittany thought raising her head, it's just a toy.
She turned her head at a sound. She swore she had heard something moving. Fast footsteps, padded by carpet. A chill crept up her spine as she remembered the scroll. The chain was gone. But there was no way a toy could come to life was there? "Is that you, little man?" She said playfully with a hint of laughter in her voice. She ducked again to look under the couch, but again, saw nothing.
She turned again at a second sound coming from the kitchen. A distinct sound of metal hitting metal. She lifted her head and raised her voice, "What's going on?" She called, but heard no response.
Standing she walked into the kitchen. Cautious now she stood in the doorway looking over everything exposed in the kitchen. A book on the countertop, the plate with the second half of the chicken near it. Only a metal spoon sat between them. Her brow furrowed and she moved the spoon and dish. She knew she had left the knife there.
Thinking she had probably put it away without thinking she checked the knife rack. Four knives lay in their places in the wood, the blades reflecting the light from above, but the last was missing. She shook her head in disbelief and checked under a few dishes, then pulled out the drawers under the counter. Kitchenware clattered loudly as she yanked them open and slammed them closed as she did not see the blade. "Come on Brittany," She told herself. The last drawer was closed with a loud thunk as she jerked towards it.
In the very corner of her vision a shadow darted past the door accompanied by the same sound of tiny footsteps she heard a moment before. Slowly, even slower than before, she walked into the living room. Her hands were raised in balled fists as if ready to fight off an intruder. Each of her footfalls was silent against the carpet. Her own ears strained for the sound of, well, whatever she had heard. "Don't get spooky on me, Brittany," She said to herself again and walked further into the room. Everything seemed to be in place, not a single piece of furniture moved. She saw no more movement, heard no more footsteps. The only thing that sparked in her mind was the door. It was locked, something she didn't remember doing when she came in. She must have forgotten. She had to be imagining things. "The wooden doll is not running around."
Darkness flooded the room in an instant. Brittany let out a small squeak of surprise and turned abruptly towards it. Nothing had changed, nothing had moved. The light had simply gone out. Brittany took the few steps needed to close the distance between her and the lamp. "That bulb probably just burned out, that's all," She said, now more to herself than anything. She reached inside the shade to pull the brass cord.
Just as she felt the cool metal of the cord against her fingertips she felt pain searing through her calf. She retracted her hand, her head falling back as she cried out in pain. A second stab of pain ran through her other leg, then a third and a fourth. At her feet the doll stood - He Who Kills stood - shouting madly in words Brittany didn't understand, slashing at her legs with the knife.
Brittany ran, but her legs did not take her far. The pain of the deep cuts He Who Kills gave her caused her legs to give under her. Her body collapsed heavily onto the floor. By the time she looked up she screamed again. The doll rushed towards her, impossibly fast, shouting just as madly as before. She scrambled away, as if it would help her, but he reached her all the same.
His knife blade flashed sliver and red as it struck at her clothes, her legs, her feet, anything it could manage to reach. It's hair flew all around its head as it stuck. Its black eyes were wild. Continuing to cry out, their voices seeming to compete for volume, Brittany reached towards the doll in an attempt to grab it and toss it aside. Progress was slow as each time she came close her skin was met with the sharp edge of the knife. As she struggled to grasp it he slowly moved his way further up her body, his blade meeting with thigh, then stomach, then chest. Only then did she manage to grip his scrawny wooden form and throw him away from her with all her strength.
With him gone she fled again, this time towards the living room. She made the mistake of looking back at her attacker and she tripped over a footstool. From the ground she saw him recover. He stood for a second, his arm raised with the knife in hand, as he shouted again. Brittany screamed and ran again quickly managing to make it to the bedroom and slam the door shut just as he reached her.
Beyond the door she could still hear its voice. He scrapped the knife against the wood of the door, trying to break through and reach her. Could it reach her? She wasn't sure. If it did what could she do? She needed help. She picked up the phone from where she left it and called Santana tried desperately to remember the police's phone number. She was sure they had told her before in school. She dialed a number and waited. Each second lasted hours.
"Operator," She said cutting off the greeting message, "Please get the police." She panted heavily as the voice on the other end asked her where she was. Brittany thought, there was so many places she had stayed at over the years. And since she was rarely home she had never learned the address, "I don't know where I'm located! Just get the police! It's an emergency! There's a . . . a," How was she to explain this? "Just get me the police please." She looked up, back to the door and her heart stopped.
The brass handle turned. She dropped the phone, not even remembering to hang up. Slowly she pulled herself onto the bed. Her legs left trails of scarlet on the sheets as she moved to the head and cowered. The doll no longer shouted, but it was not silent. Its words were low and menacing, reminding her of a growling animal. The door swung open and she saw it, hanging from the handle. Its eyes fell on her and it stretched his mouth wider before dropping to the floor. It walked around the bed, its shape hidden behind the mattresses but its position given away by the sounds it made. The sheets pulled close to the edge of the bed. A hand appeared at the side. A second joined it. It pulled its head over the side of the bed, the knife held firm in its sharp teeth.
