I can't just sneak around all night. Then again I very well can't stay here either. Creeper might smell me again and no doubt he'll make haste to catch up with me.
Tears began to well up in my eyes.
Why did I have to be all alone? Why did this have to happen to me?! What did I do to deserve this?
My hands shook as they wound their way into my hair, beyond the point of frustration. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to myself angrily. I wanted to scream, wanted to lash out against the universe for my great misfortune, my twisted fate..
If only mom and dad had been here!
Even before I could finish the naïve thought, I was scolding myself. My inner child was a cowering mess. I couldn't altogether blame me, but pushed that side of myself back down anyway. Aggressively wiping the beginnings of my tears away, I mentally argued;
Don't be stupid! It's a damn good thing they hadn't been here. Who knows what would have happened if they had been. You should be glad for that. Thank God Alysson isn't here. She'd be reduced to a whimpering ball. There'd be no way Max could handle it either.
I tried to steel myself, forcing a breath in to cleanse my thoughts.
Yes. It's better this way. Better me than my family.
I didn't have a large family. I suppose it could be considered the typical American household. Two parents, three children. Nevertheless my love for them was endless.
Despite their marital success, even I had to admit that mom and dad were an odd pairing. In a lot of ways the two were opposites, yet the love they had for each other had it all making a perfect kind of sense. Lily Caddie, with her vivid green eyes, wild brown curls, and her easy-going nature, her free spirit often left her more nervous husband guessing. Completely at odds with her graceful, tall height, it was her adventurous self that kept his baby blues on constant alert in their day-to-day.
Blonde haired, blue-eyed Scott Caddie, while doing his best to keep up with his unpredictable spouse, often had to play the part of the more sterner, stricter parent. His comely paranoia and overprotectiveness, which always seemed to be magnified behind the lenses of his glasses, left little doubt in my mind that it had been him from whom I had inherited my overthinking. It couldn't be said who the palest person in the family was, him or I. Baseball nut that he was, getting him outside and away from his books was akin to pulling a tooth and I had always burned rather than tanned. And while the answer to the who-was-paler mystery wasn't quite clear, it was obvious that Alysson and I took after our father in terms of our looks as Max took after our mother.
Alysson is my loud, pink-obsessed, sweeter-than-candy little sister. At six years old she's the youngest of us and nearly the spitting image of me. While we both share the same blonde locks, she has a more peach colored skin tone in comparison to my paper complexion. Our eyes are both blue, though hers is lighter than mine, mine being more of a dark ocean and hers being more of an icy chill. Her hair is a little past shoulder-length, while mine reached a bit past my hips.
Meanwhile Max is my little brother, a tad older than Alysson at twelve which makes him the second youngest with me at third. Though his own hobby was with the stars, his head is much more grounded in comparison. His skin is tan, telling the story on first impression that he was an active boy. His chestnut brown hair curled without end around his ears and his eyes were a brilliant green.
And there's me. Just a much bigger version of my little sister without the confidence; Less obsessed with her favorite color, less artistically inclined, and with much longer hair. Too long probably. Dad was always after me to trim it. Mom loved the length. I'm short, petite, and right now? Royally fucked.
I was rudely yanked out of my thoughts by an angered yell. And just like that, I was reminded of how much life apparently had it out for me.
I need a weapon.
An innocent voice of reason suggested;
Just call the police!
"I'll do you one better," I muttered as quietly as I dared to. "How about I get the fuck out of this house instead?" Calling 911 was a fantastic idea. That couldn't be denied...Except for the damning fault that our house phone was down in the kitchen. It was also the only phone we owned. If I could get out in one piece, be one hundred percent certain that I was safe, then surely I had a chance. A better chance anyhow. Although if I did have an opportunity to call for help, I most certainly had to take it.
I stood abruptly from my bed, staring with fresh fear at my bedroom door. Not wanting to tear my eyes away from it for a second, I nervously crept to my closet. I had a baseball bat inside somewhere, no doubt buried underneath clothes and years of childhood memories. My dad had gotten me into baseball for a few years. Being the firstborn of the family meant that my father couldn't wait to project his love for the sport onto me. Alysson had been mercifully spared from the sport, but when Max had been born, the initiation of baseball had begun all over again. Little did our father know that his son would never be the avid fan of baseball that he was. While I had about seven years worth of experience, I hadn't been very good at it. Frankly I had only continued playing to see my dad's face light up, and it was worth every embarrassing failed catch and every bruise I got from practice. I was however quite the track star. But that was besides the point.
Now let's be honest: Did I really, truly, seerioouussly think that a measly little baseball bat would be enough to handle eight grown ass men? Of course not, but it was all I had. And for now, baseball bat was as good as it was gonna get.
Silently pulling the closet door open, I ransacked the contents in search of the bat. I had to ignore Creeper's phantom fingerprints on my belongings while I rooted around. Not having the nightlight on didn't help, but I was far too afraid to turn it on. I tried unsuccessfully to ignore the unsettling memory of Creeper stuffing his face into my clothes while I looked.
"Please, for fuck sake..." I begged, a break of cruel laughter making me temporarily avert my gaze. At this rate I was never going to find the damned thi-
"Yes!" I cried, barely above a whisper. My hands found the familiar body of the bat and grasped it like it was a life raft in the middle of a churning sea. There you are, Mr. Lucky. Dad had named the bat Mr. Lucky when he had gotten it for me for my tenth birthday, a year before I had stopped playing baseball altogether. As if the gift alone would spark in me a passion I never originally held for the sport. Needless to say it never did. When I had told him how silly naming a baseball bat that was, he had insisted that the bat was going to be my lucky charm and that I should take Mr. Lucky seriously. Damn. I hadn't touched this bat in years…But there was no time to reminisce. Gripping it so hard that my knuckles were certainly turning white, I stepped back from my closet and took some practice swings in the dark. My form was still lacking. My odds still weren't good. They were far from that, but there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to suck it up.
"This'll have to do.." I turned to face my bedroom door, incredibly unprepared for even half of what this night could promise me. I quickly crept towards it and carefully grasped the doorknob. It immediately became slick in my hand and it was then that I realized I was in a full cold sweat. I hastily wiped my hand on my pajama bottoms and tried again. Slowly, I edged the door open just a little wider. I didn't want to move it too much. Otherwise it would have given the impression that someone else other than them had moved it. I peered into the eerie moonlit hall. Not a soul in sight. Seeing nothing, I was encouraged to squeeze my palms tighter around the bat's handle.
I wasn't entirely sure if that reassured me or further spiraled me into a frenzy of fear.
A foolish sigh of relief came stumbling from my mouth, as clumsy as falling down stairs. Though my eyes could detect nothing, my ears told different stories. I could hear voices in my home. Scattered. Between the hammering of my pulse and the echoed sounds, it was difficult to tell where they were.
Come on, Jennifer. You know this is a bad idea. You KNOW it!
It was true. I absolutely knew this was going to be the worst idea of my life, yet...What else could I do? Cower in my room all night? Wait to be eaten, or killed, or.. I had to banish the list of possibilities before they could spring out. I had a tendency to overthink to a horrible degree and right now was not the time for that.
No turning back. Not now, not ever.
"Just you and me now, Mr. Lucky." I whispered. Ever so slowly I left the doorway of my room and abandoned safety behind. I couldn't recall a time in my life when I had ever felt heavier than this moment. The weight of the world was upon my shoulders and I was the one to bear it.
The air seemed uncomfortably thick with something unnamed yet known, but with what?
Fear.
The thought made me shudder. I gripped the bat harder than before. After all these years I still kept it. Good thing I did. Honestly, I never thought I would've had a reason to touch it again.
Funny how life finds a way..
Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside. I needed my focus. I needed to stop yammering. In an effort to keep myself present, my gaze lingered on each of the doors on my right. Five in total: The stairway leading up the attic, the bathroom, the storage room, Alysson's room, and Max's room. The door at the very opposite end of the hall led to my parent's bedroom. As I continued along, my ears were displeased to pick up the noises of those same voices, additional snippets of unfriendly laughter floating about. Thankfully they all seemed to be coming from one place, not as scattered as I had previously thought: To my left and down below to the first floor. Which ultimately had to be the living room. I gently edged myself to the railing on my left, not too far from the staircase that connected both floors. Nothing seemed amiss in the general space, no creepy shapes or shadows to be seen, only empty air. I was certain of it; My unwanted guests were gathered in the living room, but how many of them were there?
As if to answer that question, my eyes then went to the right towards the kitchen. The door to the room was left wide open, revealing the familiar silver body of the refrigerator. I stopped immediately and crouched behind the wooden railing. The fridge door was open, its yellow light spilling over the floor to reveal the doll in front of it. It seemed as though he had discarded his little backpack for the time being. Anger rose in me at the sight of him going through the contents of the fridge. Why can't they just fucking leave already?!
That's our food, you little fuck. Not yours! I clenched my jaw and sunk lower to the floor as I watched the cursed toy stroll from the kitchen, across the main hall, and finally into the living room with one of my dad's beers in hand. My dad didn't drink often; Just whenever his friends came over to discuss work. My dad is a well known lawyer, often successful in his cases yet rarely ever home.
That little fucker hadn't even had the decency to close the fridge after he was done.
Ooh, I hope you choke on that drink you fucking...Ugh. Nevermind that, Jennifer. The kitchen should be empty. Just call the police and promptly get the Hell out.
As much as I wanted to high tail it out of the front door, I knew something had to be done about these fiends in my house. Heading directly for the door may prove fruitless, especially if opening it turns out to be louder than I think or God forbid I were walked in on in the midst of my opening it. If I could at least make it to the kitchen and get my call for help out, that could assist in guaranteeing the arrival of police. That way if..
I stilled, my eyes lowering to the floor in thought. That way if I'm found, if I...If I die, the cops can handle everything from there and ensure safety for my family. It definitely wasn't my favorite thought. My hands loosened and regained their grip on my weapon, my small way of distracting the stress. I have to get to the phone. For my family, and for me. This was the very same house my little brother and sister would eventually come home to. There was no way I was going to just leave this mess behind for them to find. I could only hope that this was a mess not too sizable for the police to handle..
Reaching the top of the stairs, I cast a final paranoid glance around the second floor. Satisfied with the results, I took a shaky breath and began my descent down the staircase-
A descent of which was almost immediately interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
A shard of terror shredded through me at the sound. My brain hopped into 'don't fuck up' autopilot to inform me that the noises were coming from behind me. So in one fluid motion, I let the wall along the staircase catch my back while I turned to wait there; To pathetically 'hide' and see who was coming. Mr. Lucky lay in a bone-crushing hug in my arms as my left cheek planted itself against the wall to stare out at the hallway right beside me.
Then the footsteps became a piss-inducing visual.
My eyes widened and bulged in silent horror as the masked man in blue stepped out from around the corner. Two steps had him stopping to a sharp halt with just enough space to have me safely out of his peripheral vision, but not far enough to be safe. The side profile of that haunting white face eternally staring down the hall had every inch of skin prickling with goosebumps. I felt myself sweat.
Dear God. Please don't look at me. Don't look. Don't look. Gooo the fuuck awwaay. Go on! Go! GO! SHOO! Leave!
But he wasn't shooing. He was just…Standing there. Watching the hallway. Breathing . Staring it down like he had something to prove. As if he had…Heard something? My heart thumped painfully at the possibility. It turned out I might not have been as sneaky as I had thought. Had he heard me coming this way? Had he come out to check? WAS HE GOING TO TURN AND FUCKING SEE ME?! SEE ME STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS WITH MY METAPHORICAL DICK IN MY HANDS!? Either way, the longer he stood there, the more his refusal to leave had my thoughts squawking like a shrill, desperate bird;
I'mmm noot heeree. Nooot heeree. I'm invisible! You can't see me. Totally invisibllee. Sooo invisible, couldn't possibly be ANYMORE invisible if I TRRIIEDD! SO GO THE FUCK AWAY! THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE HERE! KEEP IT MOVING! PLLLEEEAAAASSEE!
His head ever so slowly shifted to look at the door to the storage room, and before I could decide on how to react to the motion, he set himself on a way there. My heart gave a tap dance, but for the life of me I couldn't watch the performance. My eyes stayed trained on the lanky figure's back as he swiftly opened the door, quietly entered, and thankfully shut it behind him without a further thought.
I seriously almost considered going back to my room to hide for the rest of the night.
Go. Go. GO. GO NOW! GO, YOU STUPID BITCH! GOOO!
I ripped myself from the wall and tiptoed as fast as I could down the rest of the stairs. Even as I was leaving, my mind strayed behind to make myself second-guess every single step that I took. What if he came back out? What would I do then? Before the awful imagery of him stalking down the stairs after me could manifest, my attention was captured by something to my left.
The living room.
Fixing my stare on the entrance, fear and curiosity battled for the most prominent emotion. The entrance to the living space was a wide and rounded one, but did not reveal much to my misfortune. All my gaze could latch onto was a bookshelf against a wall, a half of our tv, and a part of the couch. A shadowed silhouette of Pinhead sat rigid in place. Multiple gleaming reflections from the tv shone on every embedded pin. The intruders were sitting around, relaxing, watching..
I stared in disbelief. It was enough to make me forget myself in the middle of my slow descent. Cheering and hooting could be heard from within. They were...They were watching..? One internal word echoed with incredulity; Boxing?
"Davidson gives Floyds a quick left hook, and a straight back hand! It looks like he's down for the count, folks!"
No words could describe just how flabbergasted I was.
At least they're distracted. Exactly like how you are right now. FOCUS!
I snapped out of it and quickened my pace as much as I could be allowed to. Every step heightened my desperation. After what felt like an agonizing eternity, my feet felt the cold first floor at last. Without a sound, I dashed inside the kitchen and gingerly closed the door behind me. I turned and took a step annnd-
Immediately stepped into a frigid pool of liquid. I jerked my leg up in response, snapping my gaze to the floor.
Milk.
There was fucking milk on the floor.
I lifted my eyes from the mess back to the fridge. I couldn't help the way my body cringed at the loss of food. Half of its contents had been carelessly pushed over and shoved about. The usual tidy order that my father kept everything in had been ruined. It looked as though my intruders just grabbed what they wanted and had no second thought, as if they were clumsy bears picking through our stuff.
Well dad's going to be pissed.
Forcing myself to ignore the searing heat of anger within me, I cast anxious eyes around the darkened kitchen. Beautifully empty. I let out the breath that had been longing to be released. In spite of it all, hope had begun to blossom inside of my chest. I knew I couldn't celebrate just yet however..
Annoyed, avoiding the milk, I sloppily wiped my foot off on the little rug in front of the island and let myself concentrate on my top priority: The phone. Sitting in the middle of the island itself, it gleamed in the fridge's light. It looked more akin to a gift from God rather than a normal house phone. Halting in front of my salvation, I went to pick it up with my free hand, my fingers just hovering over it when I was stupidly jumpscared by the sound of dogs barking.
I became momentarily possessed by the soul of a pogo stick. A hissed whisper of "F-Fuck!" escaped as I jumped. A frustrated, though relieved breath evacuated shortly after. I cast a livid expression towards the kitchen window, as though directing my sudden hatred towards the canines themselves wherever they were. Yet they howled on, entirely oblivious to my anger and to my present predicament. Stupid! It's fine. It's just dogs. Dogs bark. They do that. It's fine. My body briefly sagged with the release of another breath. Probably just barking at a fucking squirrel. Taking a moment to compose myself, I reached for the phone again..
Only to be jumpscared a second time when it rang.