Unbeknownst to Craig, Pip had indeed been awakened by the sound of breaking glass. Lingering fatigue, however, had compelled him to stay in bed...until the sound of the door opening roused him completely from slumber. The sound of foreign footsteps passing over the carpet made Pip's eyes open wide with breathless terror.
It couldn't possibly be mom and dad, he thought. I remember them telling me they couldn't possibly be home until next week. And, besides, why the hell would they break a window in order to get inside the house?
The moonlight falling through his window lit up the room, making it appear stark. Silently, he blessed the sterile illumination...he'd be even more frightened if he'd opened his eyes to complete darkness. Pip pricked his ears up, listening intently for any suspicious sounds.
Maybe I was just imagining things...or dreaming! Desperately, he hoped that was the case.
A muffled thud from below squelched the burgeoning hope. Droplets of sweat broke out across Pip's body, causing his hair and clothing to stick to his skin uncomfortably. Terror, like a thick jelly, filled up his chest cavity and threatened to choke the life out of him.
Slowly, Pip sat up in his bed. His frenzied mind struggled to come up with a plan of action.
Should I try to make a break for it? He wondered as the smell of his terror-sweat wafted beneath his nostrils. Nausea washed over him at the odor of his own fear, making him feel cold and weak. The idea of getting out of bed and trying to make it out of the house overwhelmed him. What if he ran into the intruder as he tried to escape? There was no way he could overpower them...he wasn't a formidable opponent and the stranger probably had a weapon.
A weapon! His eyes popped open at the thought. Dad's gun...if I can get to his study I can grab it out of his desk! The study's right down the hall...I could probably make it if I'm really quiet...
The notion of venturing out into the dark hallway with a stranger lurking about made him want to vomit. But what other choice did he have? He had to arm himself...he couldn't just hide in his room and hope that the interloper overlooked him.
Still fighting the idea, Pip's mind turned to the window. Was there any possibility that he could climb out of it and jump to the ground? Taking a deep breath, Pip slowly climbed out of bed to check. Droplets of sweat ran down his body as he padded along on (hopefully) silent feet. Approaching the window, he could already tell that there was no way that he could jump out and survive. To begin with, he was too far up (he'd break every bone in his body, surely) and secondly, the wrought-iron fence that enclosed the yard was situated right below his room. Pip certainly didn't relish the thought of being impaled on its wicked black spikes. No, the window was definitely not an option. (not at this point, anyway...if the intruder DID happen to corner him in his room, he'd jump. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be because he tried to escape...not while cowering at the feet of a stranger)
Pip's heart, which was already racing at a dizzying pace, thumped ever more wildly behind his sternum. Frantically, he tried to think of anything else...some way out...
"My phone!" He whispered almost soundlessly. God, I'm such an idiot! Why didn't I think of that at the very beginning?
Praying to God that his passage over the floor went undetected downstairs, Pip tiptoed over to his nightstand. Feeling along its surface, his fingers came across his iPod, a pile of change, a slim prayer book and -
Fuck! He screamed inside his head. I left it downstairs after I got done talking to mom. She's not even HERE and she's screwing me over!
Pip wanted to cry. Now he knew he had absolutely no choice...he was going to have to scrape up what little courage he could muster, open his bedroom door, and venture down the darkened hallway to his father's study. Taking a deep breath, he made it over to the door, and began to slowly open it...
...
Craig bit down on his tongue to hold back a scream. Fucking table! What the hell was it doing right in his path? Rubbing his leg, Craig prayed that Pip hadn't heard him make an ass of himself while traipsing through the living room. He waited in an agonized limbo, expecting the lights in the upstairs to come on at any moment. Minutes passed while he waited, but nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief, Craig continued wading through Pip's house. It filled him with secret pleasure to be inside of Pip's home when he was completely unaware of his presence...in fact, the idea sort of turned him on. He also thanked his lucky stars that he had overheard Pip talking on the phone with his mother. In his frenzied mood, he had completely forgotten about the idea of running into Pip's parents. Thank god they had jobs that had taken them out of town.
Pip's folks must be pretty loaded, he mused as he walked along. Idly, he ran a finger down a crystal candy bowl on the mantle and laughed to see a curio cabinet filled with Hummels.
Why does every middle-aged women seem to have such a boner for these stupid things? He asked himself. Craig was half-tempted to pop the heads off of the cheerful children feeding geese and holding huge umbrellas, but he refrained - there was always time for that AFTER he took care of Pip.
Continuing towards the stairs, Craig slowed down to peer at the family portraits hanging in the hallway. Everyone at South Park High School knew that Pip was adopted, so he was unsurprised to see that Pip's parents looked nothing like him. Pip's mother and father, who were rather nondescript yet tidy looking people, gazed out at the world with "Leave it to Beaver-stuck-in-the-1950's-not-a-care-in-the-world" smiles. Like the Hummels, Craig found this endlessly amusing. In contrast, Pip's smile in every portrait was one of wistful sadness. In fact, as the years passed, and Pip grew from an 8 year old cherub to a frail 17 year old, Craig noticed that his smile grew decidedly more sorrowful. The blue eyes of his youth became cloudier as he passed into adolescence...indicating a growing distrust with the rest of the world. Craig smirked. He was pretty sure he knew why Pip looked so sad in these pictures...there was just something so satisfying about knocking that British kid around; though he couldn't begin to explain why that was.
Already bored with the portraits, Craig began to make his way up the stairs. Anticipation, like a wonderfully potent drug, swept through his body- he could practically feel Pip's glacial flesh sliding and ripping in his hands.
...
Pip was halfway down the hallway when he heard the first creak of the stairs. Managing to hold back a gasp of fear, he pressed a hand into his mouth and leaned against the wall.
I can't do this! He whimpered. Oh, Christ, just make this night end already!
His body shaking almost uncontrollably, Pip was able to regain enough composure to continue down the hall. Thankfully, his father's study was only a few doors down from his own room, and his dad never closed the door to it. His parents, being the regular Ward and June Cleaver of the new millenium, had nothing to hide, so why keep the doors closed? As the footfalls on the stairs drew closer, Pip slipped into the study, made his way over to his father's desk, and frantically ripped open the left-hand drawer. Drawing out a black case, he flipped it open and pulled out the gun. The moonlight glazed it, turning it into a chunk of ice in his hand. Although he knew it didn't make any sense, the revolver seemed to exude a comforting warmth when he wrapped his fingers around it. Checking the rotating cylinder, he was thrilled to see it completely loaded with bullets.
Crouching low behind his father's large desk, Pip waited for the intruder to find him, or to take what they wanted and leave. He was almost certain that whoever was out there was finished climbing the stairs, and was scant yards away from his hiding place. The thought brought a fresh wave of terror, but this time it wasn't as overwhelming as when he was in his bedroom. With the revolver in his hand, he felt a little bit better; not nearly as vulnerable. Mutely, he decided he wasn't going down without a fight.
...
"Wow, that Pip kid has more balls than I thought." The girl remarked languidly as she licked a strawberry lollipop. Even though she really didn't have to eat to stay alive, she was still a slave to sugar. "It'll really blow if he shoots Craig...the show will be over before it's started and we'll lose all of that delicious blood!"
Watching the mirror closely, Damien nodded. "Sometimes that runt surprises even me. Who knew he'd be brave enough to go and grab his daddy's little gun? Pip might just be more interesting than I thought."
"So, what'll happen if Craig gets shot? I've waited too long for the game to be over so quickly!" His companion whined.
Exasperated, Damien looked over his shoulder at her. "You're forgetting that I injected a part of myself into Craig's bloodstream. Right now, he's a lot more powerful than a mere human...he'll be alright. Just wait and see."
Knowing better than to show her skepticism, the girl went back to servicing her lollipop. As her tongue slid over the candy-shell, she watched the mirror intently, hungry for the real fun to begin.
...
There were so many doors...how was he supposed to choose when the options seemed endless?
Standing at the top of the stairs, Craig ran his eyes down the length of the hallway, wondering just where he should begin his search. In an action that surprised even him, he lifted his nose to sniff the air. A peculiar, yet enticing scent filled his nose, making him feel dizzy.
He knew immediately that he was inhaling Pip's aroma. Feeling limp with a deranged sort of ecstacy, he smelled the air again, drawing the scent of pine and musk into his lungs. Along with the pine and musk, he also detected another, more acrid aroma...
"Fear." He said, aloud. "Oh, the poor thing is afraid. That must mean he's awake AND he knows there's a stranger in the house with him. Well, that's just fine...if he's awake that means I don't have to work so hard to be quiet anymore."
With the scent as his guide, Craig followed it down the hallway. Like a wolf stalking its prey, every inch of his body was alive with the urge to pounce and kill.
...
The footsteps were coming closer now. They were also getting louder, as if the stranger didn't seem to care about being quiet anymore. As if to cement this idea, Pip could distinctly hear a male voice cutting through the dead air inside his father's study.
"P-i-i-i-p," it called, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
That voice sounds so familiar, he thought. Familiar but...warped somehow. Like it's being played backwards on a record player.
The knowledge that he potentially knew the intruder filled him with a different type of fear. Who was so desperate to hurt him that they'd break into his house in the middle of the night? Damien certainly didn't have any need to break into his house by force...not when he so easily appeared in his room the other night. And even though the kids at school were gigantic assholes, who among them could possibly be monstrous enough to...
"Oh, my God." Pip whispered, his eyes bulging crazily in his skull. "It couldn't be."
"Good evening, Pip." A voice above him purred.
Mechanically, his body so taught with fear that he was afraid that he'd break in two, Pip raised his eyes to look into the face of his tormentor...
What he saw nearly made him faint dead away. As he suspected, Craig was standing before him, but his eyes were no longer his own.
They were Damien's.
TO BE CONTINUED.