My eyes were closed, holding on a little too tightly to the railings of the enclosed space. At some point I had left it up to God and shambled my way blind the rest of the journey. If I couldn't see how far up I was going, then I couldn't be afraid, right?
Wrong.
The sweat of my palms made the rails somewhat slippery, which in turn had me gripping them all the more. As nice as the sentiment was that all I had needed was to imagine my brother and all of my fears would evaporate, it simply wasn't realistic. It wasn't the attic I was afraid of. Of course not. I usually had no qualms with entering tall buildings, riding elevators, or climbing stairs. Why would I? There were so many details that my mind could get distracted by instead of succumbing to fear. The mundane tasks typically weren't accompanied by the truths of how far up or just how tall the climbs were when you really stopped to think about it.
It was the reason for my venture that struck fear into my heart, and with every step up I was reminded of just how high up I was going to be when I got there.
My knee raised forth in the familiar gesture of finding the next step and began to lower. Expecting the next stair, I nearly fell face forward when my foot never met a higher elevation. With panic at the tips of my fingertips, I righted myself quickly but not before stupidly bumping into a hard barrier with my forehead. My eyes instinctually popped open, a sharp hiss of pain releasing from my mouth.
Was I here? Had I really made it to the top of the stairs?
It seemed I had, for the door at the top stared right back at me, hole and all. The hole was strangely shaped, much of the aberration of it due to the jagged and broken areas of the wood itself, cracked and jutting. The gap that had been created was about the size of an average pillow, although the shape of it was thinner at the top and more blocky and circular near the middle. It was definitely more than enough to let me see inside the attic without having to open the door. Just to imagine..To have the strength to rip it open...To reduce it to this..
Why did they all have to be so terrifying?
I shivered while I smoothed away the ache in my temple with a sweaty hand, my face turning hot at the embarrassment of colliding with the wood. Obviously I shouldn't have kept my eyes closed, but what could I do when I was a coward? I set down my raised foot only to hike it back up again just as soon as it lowered.
Around the bottom of the door I saw the ominous chippings and shards of wood. My stomach turned at the sight. Visions of last night haunted me. My gaze averted to shake away the ghosts of memories.
As if remembering that my house was now home to demons, I threw my head around to look down the steps I'd climbed. The foot of the stairs was empty. I allowed myself to enjoy a breath of relief. Now to just open the door. Right.
I turned back around and grasped the knob before I could question myself. Awkwardly placing my foot away from the fallen wooden pieces, I corrected my balance. Then inhaling shakily, I turned the doorknob and went about entering the space. Due to my sweat-covered palm it was momentarily reluctant to turn, but after gripping it more firmly it soon relented.
While I hadn't been up in the attic often in all of the three weeks I had lived here, it remained a semi familiar space. Not much about it surprised me. When we had first moved in, Max thought it was cool. My parents had been lightly wowed, but Alysson? Alysson had thought it was pretty spooky. Personally I hadn't agreed. Although first ascending to see it for the first time had made me a bit nauseous at the height. Seeing it now? It was spooky for vastly different reasons.
When we moved in, it had been dirty; Courted by cobwebs, dust, and fluffs of pink insulation. Three weeks later had transformed it into a cleaner, dust and insulation-free area. The only thing that dirtied the room now was the partially spilled storage. The walls and ceiling all sported different shades of wood. It was oddly more vulnerable looking, as though I were standing in the soft innards of the house itself. Both sides of the ceiling sloped in an overall triangular point. The attic was a long, narrow space and almost felt vaguely barn-like with the shape overhead. The large window that had been broken sat across from me opposite the entrance, and four supporting pillars mirrored each other in the middle of the room. And now, with the murderous veil of night torn away, the attic itself wasn't half as scary as I had remembered. Actually it looked a little too normal. It looked much more innocuous during the day. Only an attic. Just a simple room.
Weirdly enough, it was in fact the normalcy of the space that was now giving me the creeps. It was almost as if a life or death chase had never occurred mere hours before.
Well..
Asides from the overwhelming mess that had been left of course.
Clearly the overturned boxes everywhere, mixed with the destruction of the door at its entrance, the shards of glass that caught the sparkle of the sunlight, and the ugly jagged maw of the broken window: These blatant details were prime evidence that something malicious had indeed happened here. There was something far more chilling about seeing a crime scene in the bright light of day than in the gloomy shades of night.
My God. I thought. It's going to take me forever to clean this.
The clean-up was going to be the least of my problems. And why was I even giving weight to that? I definitely didn't want to stick around long enough to even be able to pick up the disastrous disarray in the first place. Was my brain humoring the thought because deep down I knew I wouldn't be able to overcome my phobia?
I won't know unless I try.
My thought was then discarded as I detected a strange smell. I frowned at the odd odor, giving experimental sniffs and inhales. What is that? I gave a curious look both left and right, as though I were about to cross a street. Even with these circumstances nothing seemed amiss. Whatever it was was terribly sharp and somewhat foul. I don't remember the attic smelling this bad. It wasn't unbearable by any means, but certainly noticeable. Really? The suddenly snarky thought asked. The weird attic smell is the thing you prioritize right now? Jesus, I was right. It was probably some dead rats or birds, and therefore not important enough to waste brain power on. It wasn't anything a can or two of air freshener couldn't fix.
Offending smells or not I had bigger fish to fry, and if I wanted to survive I would have to keep that in mind. Apparently the attic wasn't the only thing that needed organizing. Damn wayward thoughts.
With that I picked my way through the clutter. Items both unknown and familiar were strewn all over: Mementos I recognized, other relics I didn't. Some areas of the attic were cleaner than others, marking apparent trails of where my intruders had previously wandered in their attempts to find me. My path was a wonky and uncentered one as I tried not to step on the fallen objects out of respect and from the simple fact that I didn't want to step on anything hidden that would be unpleasant. Side-stepping, lunging, and somewhat hopping my way closer to my destination, it dawned on me then that I was lightly sweating. The journey of ascending the stairs had matted some of my hair to my neck and temple. Not because it had been taxing physically, but rather it had been the anxiety and the fright affecting me most.
I refused to cast my eyes to where I had once hidden. I didn't need any distractions right now, let alone the awful reminder that I had been caught. Seeing where I had hid would certainly make me sick and there was no time for that. They could come up here any second. At any moment they could decide to check in on me, see that I wasn't in my room, and then the terrible chase would start all over again. What excuse would I have if they found me up here? The question made me falter. My imagination stepped forward to fashion a scene of exactly that happening:
'Oh hi.' I'd say with a guilty chuckle. 'Oh what am I doing up here you ask? Um, weeellll, the answer to that is really quite simple.' I'd stall as I would pretend like I hadn't been trying to jump out of the window. 'You see, I got lost on my way to the bathroom...In my own house..Happens to the best of us right?'
God I was.. My brow crinkled while I shook my head. Was this even worth the effort? It had to be. I didn't know what I was going to do if it wasn't.
The glitter of something just ahead of the foot I had set down caught my eye. With it I let my head raise up to find myself now only a few feet away from the window. An icy shard of fear tore down my shoulder blades as I took in the destruction. This hole was far larger than that of the attic door. This one was quite large, so large that I could easily walk through it if I wanted. Not much of the glass remained. What was left was the framing perimeter of its outline. Chunks and jagged, stuck pieces of glass pointed inward like a mouth of transparent, monstrous teeth. I found myself staring at it longer than necessary, one main question promoting the fear I felt to higher peaks:
What had caused that? Who, or what, broke the window last night?
When it happened I hadn't seen it. Being too busy hiding, I had missed out on the spectacle of the incident. My eyes followed the tall shape of the frame all the way to the floor. It had been such a pretty window: Tall, arched like one of those medieval doorways. Now its beauty had been desecrated. I made a further note of the glass-like confetti on the floor just in front. Most of the pieces seemed to be inside which had to indicate that..
My heart nearly skipped a beat.
It had to mean that the window had been broken from the outside. But how? How was such a thing possible? Then again, how was any of this shit possible? Had one of them climbed through and burst through it? Or had it been some kind of malevolent magic that had caused it?
I don't have time to play detective. It's now or never.
There was no time to dissect the mystery of the broken window. Once I was out and away from the house, away from them, and I was safe? Then and only then could I properly try to work out the blanks. For now, I had another issue to solve.
The glass.
I had enough problems as it was. I didn't need to add a limp and bleeding feet to the already long list. But what to use to make the glass go away? I spun myself to survey the room, scanning for items useful to my campaign for freedom. The confusing blend of countless objects however wasn't helping in the slightest. What can I use? Think! There were no brooms or dust pans that I could see. Honestly, most of the mess consisted of clothes. My eyes lingered over the different fabrics. Maybe I can use a shirt to wipe the glass aside? Ooh, that was actually a good idea. That way if they did come up here I could just say I was cleaning the mess they made. Some slim part of me eased at the potential excuse. I continued the mental investigation with some growing hope; Or I can tie some shirts to my feet as makeshift sho-
Shoes.
My search halted on the sight of a single, dark brown shoe toppled on its side. Not just any shoe. A boot rather. I quickly spied the slim extending arm of a shoelace hidden underneath an upturned box nearby. I rushed towards it without any hesitation. Falling to my knees and all but smacking the box away, I found the other boot to complete the pair. Yes! Thank you! Finally, finally something was going my way! I wasted no time in grabbing them both and shoving my feet inside. It would be clear to anyone that they didn't fit me. If anything these were giant work boots.
Who had they belonged to? Surely not my dad. My mom always liked to tease him with the fact that his feet were smaller than hers. That had to mean that these boots didn't belong to anyone in my immediate family. Maybe they'd been grandpa's? Grandma Irme had been married once and only once. After the unfortunate death of her husband, she had never pursued love again.
Now's not the time to go over your family tree. Go! Go!
In my haste my fingers struggled to tie the laces. It felt as though I were never going to knot the fucking things. The length of the them were stupid, having to accommodate the largeness of its footwear. The excess of the strings had to be tied around my ankles like the cheapest imitation of gladiator heels so I wouldn't trip and shred my face on the glass-ridden floor. My hair wasn't making the task go faster either. I huffed with some annoyance while flinging the nosy strands out of my way. After what felt like a century, I had finally yanked the strings tight and sloppily pushed myself back onto my feet. I must have looked ridiculous:
Still in my pajamas, clad with the adorable waddlings of penguins, with too-big work boots strapped to my feet. It felt like I was wearing clown shoes and the damn things might as well have been that. Walking in them had me wobbling, trying to angle my smaller feet properly inside with every step. No matter how silly I must have appeared, it was worth the get-up. The glass that had previously obstructed my way, crunched easily beneath my newly acquired footwear, assuring me that I was more than protected from the harm they could have done. A satisfied grin met my mouth. Now for the hard part.
The grin fled from my lips.
Climbing down.
The realization had me looking back down at the boots. Am I stupid? It was a genuine question then because I realized that if I thought before that there was no way I could scale my way down safely, then it was beyond apparent that it would be impossible to do so with these boots on. Well maybe I can take them off before I try climbing? I was growing impatient with myself. Fuck it. Fuck it. I'll figure it out when I get to it.
Uncomfortably clomping to a stop directly in front of the window, I gingerly braced my hands on either side of the frame, careful to place my hands free of the glass teeth. Catching my breath, I slowly tipped myself forward to look out. Looking straight ahead was fine enough. At this rate it was an almost heavenly view. I was blessed by the sights and sounds of the outside world: Dogs barked, birds chirped, cars drove, and somewhere someone was mowing their lawn. Speak of the devil, I caught sight of a bright red shape making seemingly invisible patterns. My heart hopped up my throat as if to see the view too.
Over the distance of a few houses, a far-off neighbor groomed their grass atop the large machine of a ride-on mower. In little over twenty-four hours it was as if I had forgotten that other people existed. Being in this house, surrounded by so many unnerving beings, it felt like I was the only normal person left in the whole wide world. I never would have thought that seeing someone mow their grass would nearly make me cry. I blinked the impulse away.
I know I didn't have time for enjoying the sights, but fuck, I needed it. I needed the moment of hope. 'Hope is fickle and fleeting. Despairs suits you more.' With any luck I was going to make him eat those words. So I let myself admire the view for just a moment longer, my gaze especially chasing that of the red mower. Soon enough if all went well, I would be among them; Back with the real world and all of its far more normal inhabitants.
My morale boost had been needed more than I had thought, because as soon as my eyes began wandering downwards, I knew without it I would have immediately lost the courage to remain where I was. I froze in place, my pupils dilating in panic. The puff of confidence ebbed and receded. Right outside of the window, a narrow ledge of roof sloped downwards and ended abruptly. And below that sudden end? Was nothing but my back yard.
And fuck did it look far away.
Too far away.
A knife of desperation lodged itself into my ribs, twisting the longer I looked. Oh my God. Oh holy shit. Thaat's...I don't know...It's so fucking faaaar. I can't make that jump! I don't know if I can. I don't-I don't know if I can do thiis! This is crazy. This is stupid! Why! Why-Fuck, there's no way. I'll break my legs, or-or my neck! I can't!
My thoughts inspired my body to start trembling. I wheezed out breaths faster than I should have been breathing, my lungs inflating and deflating more and more with every frightened thought that tore through my mind. Desperately I willed myself to wrench my eyes left and right to try and look at what was on either side of me, and in turn trying to erase the dizzy feeling that was beginning to take over. Maybe climbing straight down wasn't the answer, but rather a messy path on top of the roof. It had to be possible.
Max does this sort of thing all the time! He never falls. You're bigger than him! Stronger!
Another thought countered to argue;
Yeah, but he's not afraid of heights.
What else could be said to that except for a 'oh fuck, you're right me, thanks'? Quickly I was becoming less and less confident that I could achieve my escape. I didn't want to possibly fall to my death. Not only would that be such a shit way to go, but it was so...So...So anticlimactic! I could almost see the headstone now. While it was meant to have been a headstone, the dramatics of my fear had the mental imagery looking more like a flashing billboard: 'Dumbass falls to her death!' Yet a determined image of my brother flashed before my eyes again. No doubt it had to be the last stand of my dignity trying to be honorable.
I had to at least try out the theory; To see if it were truly possible. I had bothered to come all the way up here. I had whacked my dumbass forehead into the door. It was the fucking least I could do. So I extended a boot forward, breathing erratically. I was quite literally 'shaking in my boots'. The hefty extra space of the shoe weighed my foot down further. Moving with the slow caution of someone disarming an explosive, I planted my foot outside the window onto the beginnings of the roof. I tested my weight only to gasp when I felt my foot slide sideways in the downward direction of the slope.
NOPE! NUH UH. NO!
I yanked my leg away as if it had been burned. Fuck that! I knew it! I fucking knew it! DAMN IT! I ripped myself around, my face scrunching to squeeze out fresh tears of aggravation. The overdue tears streaked down my cheeks as if this had been what they had been waiting for. Sniffling roughly, I angrily wiped at them with the palms of my hands. "Fuck!" I cursed softly. All of this was for nothing! Just a giant waste of time! The macabre flash of the imagined headstone-billboard from earlier lit up sarcastically in my head: Here lies Jennifer Caddie, big fucking coward!
Pinhead's words resurfaced to mock me: 'Have you enjoyed yourself? Oh, I do hope so, seeing as your foolishness was all for naught.' Then as an extra fuck you, my brain decided to taunt me with a version of Freddy's voice inside my head; 'Silly rabbit. Trix are for kids.' After that came an imagined jeer from Nathaniel; 'Poor baby.'
"Shut up, shut up!" I hissed. My hands lightly smacked the sides of my head as if to knock the thoughts out of my ears. Why had I been born with the tendency to overthink? Why couldn't my brain shut the hell up when I needed it to? The illusions of their taunts had a stubborn anger flaring to the top. I didn't fucking come all the way up here for nothing!
Tearing myself around to face the window again, I stared almost hatefully outside. I even cast loathsome eyes at the person obliviously mowing their lawn. Why me and not you? As soon as the thought slipped out, I shook my head. That wasn't right. Nor was that fair of me to say. As much as I didn't want to be in this situation, I wouldn't dare wish it upon anyone else. A thread of shame wove its way into my heart. My furious gaze had softened into a solemn one, as all I could do was mindlessly watch the person complete their chore. My hands balled into fists.
It was like I didn't even exist.
Wait!
I stiffened, blinking at the sudden epiphany that I could feel slowly dawn on me.
Oh my God! That's right! That's it! I EXIST!
"I exist." I said the two words out loud to myself, almost in stupefied wonder. Then again, louder as the excitement coursed through the rest of my body at the idea. "I exist! Hey!" I waved a single arm clumsily, breaking out of the fog of my defeat. My heart was joining me in the thrill because it too was becoming louder in my ears, raising the volume of how loudly it pumped blood throughout. "Hey! I'm here! Help! HELP!"
I outstretched both arms into an overdramatic swing over my head, doing tiny hops as if to jump up and down to garner more notice. I couldn't really jump however or else I'd slip entirely out of the boots and probably fall lamely through the window, or if not through the window then surely onto the shards of glass around me. My pulse thrummed in tune with the speed of my thoughts as I shouted to the world ahead.
Can they see me from here? Am I too far away? Would they be able to hear me if I screamed? Or would the lawn mower drown out the sounds? Should I throw stuff out of the window to attract more attention?
No, no, I couldn't start tossing things over the ledge. That would be too noticeable. There were windows in the foyer after all. The sunroom directly beneath the first story looked right out to the back yard. I didn't want them to see random objects raining from the sky. That would definitely give me away. That's when I dumbly realized that I couldn't scream for help either. If a scream drew attention, surely theirs would be among the ones drawn. Damn. My mouth closed and I nervously glanced over my right shoulder at the attic's entrance. Still in the clear...While it killed me not to wail to my heart's content for help, I was too close to potential victory to spoil it now.
So instead of using my voice to snatch the focus of the lawn mower's owner, I decided solely to use my body in its place. I faced outside again and waved my arms frantically, my eyes glued to the red of the machine. In that moment I felt as though I were stranded on an island, waving to help that was just out of reach. "I'm here! Please.." I would be saved, off of this accursed island if only my hypothetical red helicopter would fucking see me! Yet no matter how fast or crazily I moved my arms, they kept mowing and mowing. A sob nearly caught in my throat, urging aloud; "Look up, look up, goddamnit...Loook aat me!"
"Were you not intending to say goodbye?"
You'd think someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head at how cold I had instantly become hearing the all too familiar voice. A voice of which was far too close for comfort.
A giant gasp was wrenched from my mouth as I whirled so fast to look that my ankle wobbled and tipped, causing the brief instability of the boot to have me stumble backwards against the wall next to the window. My left hand braced against the wall behind me, as my right was tucked against my chest as if to cradle itself underneath my chin for comfort. One wrong move and I would have fallen backwards to my death. If I had had enough time to digest that then I would have been downright horrified. As it stands, I was far too distracted by the already horrifying vision in front of me.
Nathaniel was across the way, creeping along the wall connected with the window as if he were a rebellious shadow that dared to defy where the sun dictated him to be. How long had he been there!? His features were molded into one of amusement as he regarded my shocked state; "Has the cenobite's lesson fallen upon deaf ears? So bold of you to attempt another escape so soon," His mouth stretched wider; "It would seem you are a glutton for punishment." Punishment. The promise of Pinhead's chains. The blades and weapons attached to his garments. I blanched.
My head shook to disagree while my bottom lip quivered; "NO! No, please! I ju-"
He was quick to bring a few of his gnarled fingers to his lips to shush me. I immediately obeyed him, breathing roughly through my nose. It seemed silencing me was becoming a trend. I watched as he let his eyes wander up and away from my countenance, speaking quietly past the hand that still lingered in front of his mouth; "You would be mindful to lower your voice, dear. We're not alone." His head tilted ever so slightly, the raised index finger shielding his lips gesturing elsewhere in a repeated tapping.
An expression of pure confusion warped my face at the words. What did he mean? Of course we were alone, we had to be. Until he had gotten here, it had only been me up in the attic. Right now he was the only one that knew I was up here. What is he talking about? My puzzled emotions had me raising my voice; "I don't understand. Of course we are. It's only-"
The sudden sound of thick fabric falling had me just about jumping straight out of my boots. The noise itself was like a large scroll being flattened out, or a roll of paper being unwound. One swift, solid motion that brought color to the corner of my eye. In my startled movement, my head snapped to the left to see what I had only glimpsed from my peripheral vision.
My mouth dropped open and hung there. Every muscle in my body stilled to stone. Even my lungs seemed to forget how to function in the moment that I shamelessly gawked at the thing before me. Never in my life had I thought I'd see anything like it. Yet there it hung. The cherry on top of my currently-fucked cake.
A wing.
A. Fucking. Wing.
The longer I stared at it, the more terrifying it became. The sun made every single hellish detail crystal fucking clear to see. The span of it was incredible, nearly the length and width of a shower curtain if not larger. Its coloration was that of a leather-bound beige, as if it were old parchment rather than flesh. Wicked spider lacings of veins, both red and blue, arched throughout the expanse of the leathery skin like demented strikes of lightning. The flesh of the wing was attached to what looked like a long and muscly, green arm. Where fingers should have completed the rest of it, spanned nightmarishly lengthy bastardizations of them instead. While there was an apparent thumb, the rest of the four 'fingers' were conjoined with the membrane of the wing itself.
A monstrous limb of an enormous bat seemed to hang from the horizontal beams that ran across the attic's ceiling. My eyes chased the direction where it hung, and now his words made all the more sense. He had been right. We really weren't alone after all.
There, still clad in his dark clothes, lay the Creeper. His body was positioned on his side atop the narrow beam that connected the closest of the center supports. His big hat sat further down along the structure all by itself as if he had put it there for safekeeping. And despite the slim shape supporting his weight, he was asleep; Thankfully unaware of us. As if to add more to this frightening revelation, it meant he had to have been there the entire time. A demon lay sleeping overhead and I hadn't even noticed. If I had been any louder.. I would have woken him up just in time for him to have me for breakfast. What the fuck was he even doing up there?! Why couldn't he had just slept on the floor like a fucking normal bat-demon-monster thingy!
Is he the reason why the attic smells funny?
There was something else odd about his appearance too, from the little that I could see of it; Something different about his face. The look of it had changed, but how, why, and in what wa-
I flinched when the wing twitched, the long 'fingers' curling slightly to make the wing furl inward and then release the tension to hang limply. The action alone was more than enough to completely rid my mind of my earlier thoughts. Additionally Creeper shifted in his slumber, shimmying a bit atop the beam as if to get comfortable before going still again.
A strangled squeak emerged from the depths of my throat. My hand darted up to cover my mouth as if the pitiful noise I had just made would have been enough to wake him up. Now it made sense. Now the missing piece of the puzzle had been placed. Last night it had been Creeper that had come through the window. He had been outside the house and had flown his way back in.
And now it was perfectly clear. There was no more doubting it. There was no more foolish hoping to be had. Even if I had been successful in getting away, it wouldn't have mattered how fast or how far I would have ran. All it would take to get me back would be Creeper. All he would have to do is spread his wings and take flight, and swoop down from the fucking sky like a hawk capturing prey. If this were a proverbial game of 'rock, paper, scissors', then 'wings' would win every time. A single tear of defeat rolled down my cheek.
"Now do you see?"
I reluctantly turned my head to see Nathaniel closer than he was before. In fact he stood right beside me, the only space between us being that of the destroyed window. He had been gesturing up towards Creeper above us, while his other hand hovered in front of his waist. Self-consciously I wiped the moisture of the fallen tear away and sniffed quietly. My head lowered to look at the stupid boots I wore; "Yes," It came out as a weak whisper. "Now I see."
"Why did you hesitate?"
I was startled by the question, raising my lowered gaze to find his. The amusement was still on his face, but now it was steadily being bested by that of his own curiosity. I wanted to ask why it mattered. No matter what answer I gave it didn't change the fact that I was still trapped in this house and would be until further notice. I didn't know what he wanted by me answering. Did he truly want to know or did he only want the answer so that he could mock me? Beat me over the head with it until I cried some more? "Hesitate?" I questioned him instead, wanting to see where he was going with this.
As he explained his query, I smudged the wet line on my cheek dry. "You intended to climb down and then refused. By now you could have been well away from this place, away from the dangers of our company. Yet here you stand. What had been your reasoning for denying yourself the freedom you appear to seek?" His voice was hushed, his eyes sliding from mine to briefly observe the world outside before returning to me.
I swallowed while my hands found each other to fidget. Shaking my head, it became increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact with him; "I couldn't...I couldn't leave," Admitting that was even more of a challenge. I softly cleared my throat to try and get rid of the lump that wanted to form. When he didn't say anything, it was quickly apparent that he still wanted an answer and that my own hadn't been good enough. Indecision took a fleeting stand: Should I even be telling him this? At the moment I couldn't imagine being in a lower point than I was right now.
I sighed and indulged him; "Y-You could say that heights and I don't mix."
His head reclined back at the response to study me; "Don't mix?"
"I uh, I'm.." I softened my voice in embarrassment, my eyes flickering uncomfortably to the side while my shoulders nervously raised; "Heights scare me."
Nathaniel's dark lips quirked up on one end though the rest of his expression was maintained; "I see. It was your fear that held you back."
"Well that, and I wasn't exactly fond of the thought of breaking my neck if I fell."
At this he chuckled; "I can imagine why. Although there are far worse fates than death," Something about the way he said that had me reconsidering if I really should have taken my chances with the roof after all. "But make no mistake," His eyes held mine rather seriously as if to prepare me for what he was going to say next.
"Your fear of heights shall be the least of your concerns."
I let out a huffed breath; "Good to know."
An almost leisurely smile took over his mouth then. Nathaniel dipped his head and turned with a show of his arm to extend as a guide back towards the entrance; "Shall we?" I bit the inside of my cheek as it was clear how reluctant I was to leave behind my only chance at salvation. He caught on fast because what he said after that was almost followed by a sneer; "Unless you would rather stay and become better acquainted?" We both gazed back up at the sleeping form of Creeper just above. I gulped. Which was an action that I had always thought was unrealistic until this moment; "I'd rather not."
"Very well."
For anyone else the two of us walking back to the entrance together would have been just that, a walk; Mind you, a walk that gave Creeper's hanging appendage a wide berth. However for me, it was every bit a walk of shame. I let my brother down. Hell, I let my entire family down. I was certain even my long gone ancestors were rolling in their graves right about now. My face burned with the guilt I felt. And it didn't get easier with Nathaniel striding behind me, his every step a reminder of my failing.
The humanoid shell of his…I wasn't certain if it was armor. Whatever his speckled attire was meant to be, he pressed the oddly shaped shoulder of it against the frame of the attic's entry. He was patient by the door as he watched me untie the strings that kept the comically large boots strapped to my feet. In the midst of my removal of the shoes, I couldn't bring myself to look at him as I had to ask the question. The only question that mattered: "Ar-Are you going to tell them?"
Nathaniel's head fell over like a lazy feline to rest on his other shoulder. Flicking his eyes back to sweep through the air of the room, he gave an audible "hmm" as he didn't reply right away. Maybe he wanted to raise my anxiety, get my heart pounding, let me soak in my panic at the concept. Frankly it wouldn't surprise me and I certainly wouldn't put it past him. Why wouldn't he tell them? There was no hiding the fact that there were two teams in this house, and I was on the side with the losing streak.
He waited until I was upright again and back to my bare feet before he answered. Armored shoulder still kissing the door frame of the attic, one hand anchored into place to lean himself dangerously close, making me tense in return. His supporting hand stayed back while he half cupped the other one to his cheek as if to hide his words; "It will be our little secret." The last word ended on a sly smile.
Why did I almost prefer the alternative?
Something about it wasn't right. Why would he hide that from them? Weren't they in on this together, all stuck in the same boat? Why would he want to help the helpless human? There wouldn't be a reason to keep such a thing to himself unless he wanted to use it against me, or to his advantage. Dread wound its coils into the labyrinth of my guts at the prospect of how good it might for him to weaponize my third try at escape as blackmail.
A shaky breath stole its passage through my lips; "Thank you." I was saying that a lot I noticed. It wasn't like I really wanted to say it, but conveying gratitude to my semi kidnappers to keep their appeal was better than what I really wanted to spout at them. And frankly I would say it a hundred times over as long as it kept them from being aggressive or murderous. He gave me a look as if I really shouldn't be thanking him at all, a mischievous grin chasing the expression before he went to turn towards the door. Seeing that further confirmed the doubt I felt. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand found his arm. He stiffened at the contact, promptly pulling his arm from my grip as if he were offended that I had dared to touch him. A look of distaste was written plainly on his features.
Heat engulfed my own; "I-I'm sorry," I apologized quickly, instantly pulling my hand back. "But I don't get why you'd keep it between us."
There was a slight narrow to his eyes. A hand threw some of its darkened fingers in the direction of the descending steps; "Would you prefer I tell them instead?" I shook my head vigorously as I stuttered out; "N-No! No, I'm sorry. Of course not. I just don't understand, that's all."
He looked down upon me, some of his teeth exposed. By now he was less upset than he had been prior, but there was still a scalding tone to his speech. "Understand that perhaps I am in a charitable mood and it would be to your benefit to be thankful. Showing me your gratitude may go a long way, girl."
"You're right. I.." At the risk of sounding like an over-apologetic idiot, I ended with; "Thank you, Nathaniel." His disdain eased considerably and chose to melt forth into one of satisfaction. His head elevated as he kept eye contact, giving me the feeling that he was royalty and I was merely a lowly peasant before him; "Good." A throw of his chin ended the moment, clearly urging me to go down the stairs first. I did as I was told.
When we got to the bottom of the stairs, we were both accosted by the voice of Ghostface to our right; "And what's this? You two throw a party and I wasn't invited?"
Initially he lingered by the door to the second floor storage, but now he was stalking his way over to us down the middle of the hall. Watching him draw closer, the fabric strips of his clothing flowing in his steady stride, my heart began to pound anew. If this went sideways, it was going to be running a marathon in my chest here pretty soon. Slowing to a stop, he seemed as though to block our path, his back to the railing behind him. He looked from me to Nathaniel. The motion left no doubt that he was wanting answers. However before I could sate him, it was Nathaniel that beat me to it first-
"Maybe we did. Is that a problem?"
Ghostface accepted the hidden challenge that had been in the question, stepping closer. The two of them stared at each other. "You tell me." The assertive phantom pointedly made a show of looking in my direction. My chest rose anxiously in response. Would Nathaniel keep to his word? Or had it just been for show?
Nathaniel cast a glance my way, almost as if he were thinking the very same thing I was. As his lips parted to speak, my heart thudded harder in anticipation of what he would tell the other killer.
"Jennifer was kind enough to give me a tour of the upstairs space, and she was very informative." The look he gave me had me realizing I had a part to play in this. I perked up, nodding in reassurance of the lie; "It's the least I could do." There was something else in his gaze then. A glint of something. I only just caught it. Admiration? Appreciation of my playing along? With him it was hard to tell.
Ghostface let his head fall to the side with a downward tilt of his forehead; "Right," My pulse quickened. Had he bought it? Could he see right through our bullshit? What would happen if he thought we were pulling a fast one on him? Please believe it. Just take our word for it. Whether or not my inward plea had the desired effect remained to be seen as he straightened his head and shifted his weight primarily onto one leg. He looked elsewhere; "Whatever."
Oh thank God.
"You," I was broken out of my internal relief when he spoke again and the way he was staring at me had me coming to the conclusion that he was talking to me. Blinking in surprise, I let my eyebrows raise so he knew that I was listening. "You want a little advice?" Advice? From him of all people? I mean, if it was really just that, then what could it hurt? "I guess?" It was more of a question than a confirmation.
He pointed rather crudely at Nathaniel next to me; "First of all, he's not your friend," Ghostface came closer and closer until he was in my personal bubble, somewhat placing himself between Nathaniel and I. Out of instinct I backed away to regain my own space, but he wasn't having it. He kept walking forward until my back hit the corner of the stairway entrance to the attic. My hands went back to maintain my balance at the sudden impact, looking behind me for a second to reevaluate my position. Though very quickly I had placed my eyes back on him. He corralled me with his closeness, making me feel very small in his presence.
"And second," His voice was lower now, far more intimidating. "Neither am I. The next time you try running off, it'll be your last," A gloved hand took a wadded fistful of my pajama top before I could register the movement. Knotting the small penguin designs together, he pulled me close. Just as my brain thought it could adjust to this new scenario, seeing as I had been able to gasp in response, he shoved me back against the wall with the same hand. The gasp turned into a muffled noise of alarm behind my lips. My eyes were so wide they stung. His hand stayed clutched in the fabric near my collar as he went on.
"You try that shit again and I'll slit your stomach open and hang you from your intestines over the railing. That way your little sister and little brother get a nice, welcome home present right when they walk in."
The more the threat stretched on, the more his voice changed into a hideous, shrewd gnash of his vocal chords until he all but snarled the words in my face. We were almost nose to nose now. The horrible mask made up the entire view, taking up almost everything that I could see. And just as before the mask's eyes were insidiously empty.
Vomit rose to the back of my throat while I trembled in place. My heart was screaming at me, imploring me to run, to go, to get away but my legs felt like jelly. It took nearly all of my strength to hold myself up against the wall. I couldn't even think. I was far too stunned by what he had just said to me. There was the subtlest of motions to the mask as he gazed down into my eyes. Ghostface exhaled; "You get me?"
His voice had returned to its usual demeanor. Seeing as my tongue had been tied into knots, I nodded so hard it made my head hurt. His opposite hand smacked the empty space next to my head, making me yelp. "I want to hear you say it!"
"Yes! Yes, I-I get you!" It came out as a pathetic blubber of language while I cowered before him.
Ghostface nodded then, slowly, boastingly even. The glove still tangled in my shirt gave a small pull; "That's my advice. I suggest you keep it in mind the next time you think about doing something stupid." With a second push he finally released me. He spun away from me on his heel, stalking back to the door he had originally stood in front of. I flinched when it slammed shut behind him. I barely even registered Nathaniel moving closer to me. It wasn't until the faded red of his garments came into view that I realized he had approached. Breathing heavily, I watched him watch me.
After a long minute, he raised his right hand towards my bedroom door, flicking a few of his talon-like fingers. Through the haze of my numb terror I watched it slowly open by itself. His strange, almost dual-tone murmured; "I surmise you are in need of some privacy. I will leave so you may collect your thoughts. When you have composed yourself, I should like to speak with you again."
I nodded, not able to hide the tremor in my lip. Forcing myself to take a breath, I fleetingly glanced upwards at him; "Thank you." It had only managed to leave my mouth before I pushed myself from the wall and shamelessly ran to my room. Once the door was shut and locked, I fell with my back against it and at long last sank to my knees all the way down into the floor: The one thing I had been wanting to do all day ever since I had first dragged myself out of bed. There in a heap, I began to sob.
'Your fear of heights shall be the least of your concerns.'
Yeah fucking right.