I've seen so many red eyes at once that they don't seem red anymore.

There they were, multiplied by six and as red as the flag waving in my head. Like the ones of that skull wreath, only more human-looking. Not big crimson marbles stuck in a head with expressionless stillness. They were really no different from brown eyes to me. Just normal eyes with a different, if not unnatural color. The children that owned them changed with their progressing glow. Their innocence and regretful betrayal was sabotaged and they were once again against me, 'genuinely'. It still existed in them but was pushed down by primal hunger brought to them by the factory gas.

"Your blood is valuable, Amanda," Mr. Dawes moaned. He ripped off the beard from his face, I saw ruined skin revealed from underneath.

Wanting to be taken extra seriously, he removed his hat too. "What feeding off of you would do; would be more marvelous than being alive."

The baseball bat Ray was previously equipped caught my eye. It conveniently rolled in my direction and at my bare feet. Even though I nagged at myself to grab it, I didn't want to move. A whole choreographed series of events concerning an escape was developing; pick up the bat, hit the first one that gets too close, run up the stairs, find the real wreath, burn it, hold myself through until mom and dad return. I couldn't hide exactly. Each kid has lived in this house and would know all its crevices backwards and forwards.

"Looks like we're all going to need it now," Mr. Dawes opens his arms above the children. It apparently was a signal, because one of them lunges forward.

I kicked up the baseball bat and shot her against the head with a lot of my muscles used. That head decapitated on impact, with an awful rip! sound it flew over the mob like a baseball off a tee. At least it was bloodless. If only it didn't continue to move too as it hops on her chin to travel closer to me.

The way to the stairs was free and in my reach. When I dropped the bat on the way there, my feeling of security misplaced. I spent the rest of the chase unarmed and helpless. They followed me all at once to the upper den— where I met a dead end. Outrunning them through the kitchen, dining room, various halls and everywhere else was possible but now I stop.

That survival instinct I talked about comes back, candles and candles were lit around here. The only electric power present was a lightbulb that stuck on the ceiling with a stringy chain hanging down. Whatever idea I had in my head disappears and was suddenly forgotten. It was breathed out of me by the stress overbearing my brain.

The kids start to float a foot above the floor like phantoms. They all possessed their own auras that varied in size-ratio to their bodies. Mr. Dawes had the biggest glow, as a fully grown man.

"It's okay," Ray said softly to me. Hearing him speak made me bounce back from his voice. It didn't match the hungry look on his dead face.

"At least we'll all be together after, right?"

I'm crying on the inside, any second the tears will break out regardless if I want them or not. I hunted for the lost idea in my head; it had to do with the candles surrounding us. I wanted to stall them with something, anything. But they look impatiently longing.

"Come on - I'm starving here!" A big boy, who looks like a teenager, marches forward. An aggressive shove was given to Ray by him, who he impressively outsized. His slicked-back black hair that was usually maintained with gel was messy. He looked less like his greaser typed self and more like how Mr. Dawes looked in a way.

In an attempt to grab me, he trips and spirals me backwards into something long and thin. When it tips, the fall sounded like glass breaking. The boy curses under his breath. Then the rest curse as well and scream in panic. The cruel irony was that I then remembered what my idea was when everything burns down.

My hands are pressed against hot wood as I am elbows and knees on the floor. Or is that hands and knees? I'm under sulfuric smoke, safe from it but afraid to stand up. I'm trapped, like the others. Their shouts didn't sound like ones of people in pain, but they're hindered badly. I hear a girl complain about having her arm burn off like it was just a paper cut. If anything— I'm the only one fatally affected by this.

Mr. Dawes yells at everyone to clear the room, because the floor will collapse. I start panting in light of that news and force myself to find a crutch like a latch or nook. I jump for the lightbulb chain but as expected my weight snaps it off; the fall made me crash through the floor.

I pummeled through the wood from the den to Josh's bedroom. The only positive thing was that I landed on his bed, but it was a futon like mine so the cushion wasn't that great. He was no where to be found, good. That means he went with mom and dad. He's safe as this dead house is in flames from top to bottom. That one candle made a castle full of explosions and ash.

Seeing as how the dinning room was the only place safe, I naturally took refuge there. It's only a matter of time before the fires would eat up this room too. If I wanted to catch my breath I would have to now.

Mr. Dawes picked up the table where I hid under above his head. He effortlessly tossed it into the corner, it crumpled against the wall in a ball of powdered sawdust. A wall of heat rose at his hunched back that could barely touch the top of the hole filled ceiling. Also at his back were all his fallen followers that were left harmed by the status of the house.

I cower behind a chair, which he also knocked out of the way. I inhaled so hard some of the smoke actually came up my nose. My eyes water; I can't tell if they're tears of emotion or from the sulfur. I'm too soggy to run away, not that they is any where I can run to.

Mr. Dawes wiped away the black ash that was under his nose. "Let's see my little helpers try to save you now—"

His lagged steps towards me come to a random stop. His eyes become wide with flummox, one of his helpers literally tried to help me.

He looks down to his foot, the one that was delayed. Karen has caught his ankle in a firm fist. Even though she was missing half her face, and a lot of her hair, I was able to pick her out from everyone else. She looked like a melted Barbie doll, and yet she kept going. What was left of her burnt lips was curled into a snarl.

"Let go of me, Karen," Mr. Dawes calmly asked. He bent his leg in different directions to lose her but her fingers were clasped.

The spasms of his leg progressed to full on kicking, he shook and shook but the girl on him was stubborn as can be. The single eye, paired next to a gaping black socket, still had its red. No gentle shade of gray was seen in it and yet this.

"I said get off!"

He took his free foot and thrusted it in her head onto the vulnerable bald spot. She turned over onto her back with her stomach up for more kicking. Mr. Dawes seemed to have forgotten about me, he only cared for her now. I wasn't jealous as she was furiously battered by his boot in brutal redundancy. He lost his temper to such a level that he attacked her past the point where she even tried to defy him.

He caved in a dent into her ribs. I know because I saw his foot digging into it down to her spine. Just because there was no blood doesn't mean this was at all pleasant to watch. Especially since it was Karen.

While he was preoccupied, I threw a chair at him. It was as effective as a snowball as it burst against his hard back. He glared back with a terrible leer of his eyes, wide and erupting with blind fury. He raised a fist at me and I stand passively with my eyes closed; I might be dead after but at least I won't be undead like him.

Mr. Dawes was struck down by a bathtub. All that was seen were spidery limps coming out of it. In the ceiling above him there was a hole leading directly from the upstairs bathroom. Grumpy mutters can be heard from underneath, they vibrated from porcelain to wood.

I dust off soot on my nightgown. "Geez, I thought Santa was supposed to give coal to kids that are naughty."

My name is called from outside, it's as faint as a whisper. Even though it was a shout. It couldn't be the dead kids' as they were still here, plastered to the floor by the foam of their watery skin. I listen in to the cries of outside the house — my dad's call. He sounded devastated. I wanted to pick myself up, crawl to him and jump in his lap; letting him know I was okay. Before I close my eyes, I can feel him pick me up and carry me. It felt a little more like my mom's. I couldn't judge by sent since my senses are drowned by the heat and smell of smoke.

When I open my eyes, the cries continue. Only they sound closer and relieved instead of the panicking of a worried parent. The car was parked safely on the street. Dad hugged mom, giving her a reassuring rub on the shoulder. She sobbed into his shirt but cried in gratitude to God in relevance to my well being. Josh reached over and honked the horn of the car, rather rude to our parents if you ask me.

If the three of them are in the car, with my body limp in the air, who was the one holding me? I let out a scratchy cough to drive out what was polluting my system. The chilly winter air was very refreshing and restored me back to consciousness. I can smell things better now, like the burnt fabric of a coat. It was a pea coat.

Ray Thurston rocked me closer with one arm tucked under my knees and the other around my waist. A scrawny, lanky kid was walking off with me with no issue. He was a lot like Karen in that sense; skinny and scrawny but tall and strong. With the exception of his missing eyebrows and a few missing fingers, he looked intact compared to the others. Ray dipped me onto my feet to stand me up. My toes were already freezing in the snow but I didn't care.

"Before I go, let me help you again," I beg him.

The sun was probably blocked out by a house or tree. All I needed was a few minutes. One by one, I'll take the dead kids by the hand and walk them into the sun. If I'm the only one who could do that then it's my job to. I ignored the calls from my family and stared him straight in his baby blue eyes, the only red left were tinged by the pupils.

Ray shook his head and pushed me to the street. "There's no time. Just go."

I did inch towards the car, but I remained facing him. The frustration mixed with lament left me feeling down. All he did was wave, forcing a smile. I waved back and promised to go back for him and the others one day. The roof of the dead house sunk downward with all windows smashing to shards. Even the bricks started to deteriorate, some popping off.

I sat next to Josh in the car as I watched Ray outside my door's window. As the wheels turn, I kept on waving. Mom asked me who that was, I made fun of her for caring at a time like this.

"How come every time we get a new house it burns to the ground?" Dad asks, I am uncertain if he was joking or not. It seems that him, mom and Josh regained their memories. Wherever that charmed wreath laid in the house it finally burned with the rest of it. I accomplished so much with just one candle.