By the time I had gotten to the top of the stairs, I had stopped seeing red. I came to a sudden stop, as if whatever trance that I had been in, I had finally snapped out of. I was still fuming, beside myself with the emotions that the interaction had invoked in me; But now a weariness began to take priority. My legs wobbled back, causing me to stumble to the left. The corner of the wall that connected with the staircase and the left hallway caught me.

Breathing lightly, I looked back over my shoulder down in the direction of the kitchen. I was beyond relieved to see that no one had followed me out. I wanted to give into the urge to sink to my knees all the way down into the floor. The only thing that stopped me from doing so was the thought of them seeing me in a heap at the top of the steps. If I had to come undone or break down, I at least needed somewhere I could be alone to properly collect my thoughts.

I settled my eyes on my bedroom door.

It seemed so far away.

If this morning was any indicator of how the rest of my mornings would play out, it became clear to me that I wasn't in for a fun time. There had to be a way. There had to be something that I could do, but what?

I almost hurt him. Fuck sake, I WANTED to hurt him.

I had never raised a weapon at anyone before. Never. Not at my family, not at my siblings, not at any of the friends I used to have, no one! Ever! Hell, the most violent thing that I had ever done was tickle my sister until she gasped for air or pelted my brother with water balloons in the summer. Yet there I had been, with a huge fucking knife in my hand and more than just a little bit of motivation to drive it in-between his off-kilter eyes. I shouldn't have let him get to me. While some of his words hit a tad too close to home, the latter half definitely hadn't. I wasn't raised on a farm in some sadder version of Charlotte's Web, and I hadn't been bullied in my previous school. I existed, sure, but to describe life at my old school certainly wouldn't be 'a living Hell'.

Ghostface had been talking out of his ass, probably trying to get a better read on me and I let the asshole get to me.

Groaning, I pushed myself off the wall and dragged my feet towards my door. No doubt he had a knack for that, but nonetheless I was upset with myself. And I was becoming a little more irritated with myself because I was right back at square one with wondering how the hell to get myself out of this house. Pinhead had made it abundantly clear that I was not allowed to leave.

'If you truly desire to be reunited safely among your family, then you must cease any thoughts of future imprudence. Rid those futile schemes of escape from your naïve mind, lest you crave to bring about the destruction of those you hold dear.'

His warning swam through the recesses of my skull. I would be indescribably stupid to even think about trying my hand at another escape. But plain and simple? This shit wasn't fair! Why should I have to deal with these insufferable lunatics? Why did I have to sit there and take the harassment? Just watch them wreck my home, make death threats, and crack jokes while they did it? Had it been something I'd done? Or was it all just a cruel twist of fate?

Sure, the situation could be way worse.

Sure, they could have killed me already.

But I was sure as hell fed up with it.

At long last I was mere steps away from my bedroom. I only had to take a few more and I could lock myself in for the rest of the day and wallow in my misery. They could do whatever the fuck they wanted as long as they left me alone as a fair trade. I could only hope the saying 'misery loves company' wouldn't come true. The last thing I wanted right now, or anytime soon, was another encounter with any of them.

I extended my arm, going to direct it at the doorknob when I noticed something-

A strange shaft of light was cast on the wall directly next to the door frame. Curiously, I stared at it. What is.. Turning my head to follow the weird cast of light, I found myself looking up into the walled stairway that led to the attic. My eyes continued drifting up, all the way up every step until they stopped on the shape of the door at the very top. Sunlight streamed through the hole in the middle of the wood, creating odd, uneven edges on the wall.

My heart thumped harder than it should have.

The window.

I found myself fixed to the spot. The moisture in my mouth dried surprisingly fast. That's right. The large window in the attic was broken. No locks or clamps to fight, pretty secluded, easily accessible-

But also two and a half stories high.

Could I? Was it possible? I mean, Max did it all the time so it obviously had to be. Every house we had ever lived in, Max would climb his way all the way up to the roof. I never knew why. His only answer had been because he knew he could. He hadn't scaled the new one yet. Our parents had insisted he finish unpacking first before doing so, and just like the rest of his siblings, none of us had. Mom used to joke he was half monkey, whereas Dad would always work himself into a near panic attack. Although he never fell. Not once. Not a single time. Could I do the same?

Fear gripped my ribcage with icy fingers. It was a pretty adamant response, an insistent refusal that I would be able to. After all, how the fuck was I supposed to climb my way down when I had a distinct phobia of heights?

Everyone had something that they were afraid of. Most of the time you had a reason to be scared of whatever it was, but sometimes fear didn't need a reason. Sometimes it was just some primordial instinct that hid deep down inside a person. And for me, my fear was heights.

I had a reason for my phobia however. Not that it was a very good one, but it was one nevertheless. It happened when I was four. Of all places for a fear to be created, you wouldn't think it would be on a playground. I had climbed all the way up to the top of a slide. Whether it had been a little too tall for me or whether it had simply been an unfortunate incident, I couldn't recall. Either way I ended up tripping off of the top, tumbling sideways, and catching my leg on the side of the metal siding. The landing hadn't been too bad, but the slide had managed to slice my calf open. One screaming ambulance ride and fourteen stitches later, I was as good as new. Though the scar never left and neither had the fear that had been unlocked.

I hadn't realized that I had walked my way to the stairs until my foot bumped slightly into the bottom step. I jumped as a result, an uneasy breath leaving my lips. Maybe it was like riding a bike? How bad could it be? Which was the worse fate after all? Falling to my death, or dying to whatever the fiends in my kitchen had in store for me?

Clearly the second option wasn't as pleasant, because I was backing away a few steps to look over the railing into the ground floor. I scanned the foyer, not finding anyone in sight. Eyeing the kitchen door, it seemed as though they were still gathered within. No one had left yet. No one knew I was up here, but how long would that last? The coast was clear…For now. Would I take advantage of this? Or was I truly too chickenshit to go through with it?

I focused on the stairs in front of me.

I was crazy for even considering it. Why was I considering this? Earlier I had been brutally put in my place, sat on my ass and fed some humble pie, stripped of every hope for escape. Was I really this stubborn? Well desperate times do call for desperate measures. If Pinhead had thought running for the front door had been the height of my desperation, he was going to be surprised to learn that was just the bare minimum of it. An image of his cold expression ran through my mind. What would they do to me if I was caught trying to escape for a third time?

Before I could further second-guess myself, I had taken my first step. See? That wasn't so hard. Glancing up at the journey before me, I looked down at my feet instead. Juuust one foot after the other. One after the ooother. I coached myself inside of my head, using both of my hands to grab onto the railings nailed into the wall on either side of me. Bracing my weight with their help, I continued my way up. I had to banish the earlier thoughts of being discovered, especially if this really was the answer to my problems. If I didn't, I would surely lose my nerve.

But in trying not to think about it, I was failing miserably.

So miserably that I stopped on the fifth step. My progress was being undermined by the furious pace of my heartbeat the higher up I went. Get a grip! Concentrate! My leg falteringly eased backwards, threatening to begin a retracing of my steps.

Think of Max!

My leg stalled while hovering behind me. Max. A mind's picture of my younger brother came to me. The mental imagery had the tension in my shoulders easing. I gazed up ahead of me at all of the steps I still had to take. How did my brother feel climbing up all of our old houses? Did the ascent thrill him? Or was he just as scared as I was? I imagined the bravery that it took for him to accomplish those feats, the strength of his will to overcome the obstacle. If he could do it, then so could I! And if I loved him at all, I knew I had to see this through. I have to do this for Max. I have to do this for my family.

I willed forth my leg to stand next to my other foot.

Max, buddy. Give me your strength. I took a deep breath. I'm gonna need it.