Day 3
He couldn't remember much about what happened that day. Fragments drifted to and fro in his mind, bringing the occasional thought to light. What he could remember was this…
He looked in the kitchen pantry and the food looked like little moving brains. Maggots, slimy and disgusting, crawled all over his food. He let out a shout of surprise and repulsion and fell backwards. A knife on the counter fell on his hand, slicing off his fingers. His digits excreted maggots, covered in blood. More maggots spewed from his hands. Jason looked down, and his hands were normal. The pantry door was shut. He didn't want to look in there anymore.
He ran to the bathroom and vomited.
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The house was cold, but the thermostat read 76 degrees. Jason shivered. He could see his breath condensate into the air. He moved towards the front door to get out, and turned the lock. It wouldn't turn. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't turn.
After what seemed like hours, the door flung open, missing his face by almost an inch. The light was so bright, it seemed unnatural. He shut the door, the afterimage burned into his eyes. He walked into the hall, rubbing his eyes.
The lock clicked behind him.
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He was in the bathroom again. He didn't know what time it was. What mattered was that he was dirty. He felt dirty. The dirt of whatever was out there was in his skin. Water would purify him. He put the stopper into the bathtub in front of him and turned on the water.
Once it was full, he stopped the faucet and sat down on the toilet.
Drops of black, murky water dripped into the bathtub, dying it a sickening color.
Jason moved towards the basket of magazines to read a little something, and froze. A burning sensation started on his arm and slowly registered in his brain. His neck stiffened. He slowly turned his head to look at his arm.
The water in the bathtub was oozy brown, emitting a stench like dead animals and moldy cheese.
Someone occupied the bathtub. It was a little girl in a tattered white dress, her black hair covering her face. Her decomposing arm clutched onto his, her nail-less fingers spindly grinding into his skin.
He jerked his hand back, screaming in pain and terror. His mind was flooded with images…terrible images filled with pain, suffering, death.
All his fears were brought to life in his head in that one second before he landed on the bathroom tile and was knocked unconscious.
She crawled from the bathroom and touched his head with what could be adoration. She continued over his body and to the hall, where she climbed into the mirror in the hall, and hid out of view in the darkness.