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Fanfic of the events following House, a horror game involving g a little girl (Tabby) escaping her home. (After House [the game])
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It's been years since I lived in that damned place. Now I live in a apartment with my new cat, Itty. Our old one died a few years ago, she passed peacefully in her sleep; a good way to go out.

It's been such a long sense I felt any type of really life-threatening fear or sadness, which is good. Even the reminder of it doesn't heighten enough fear in my body to cause me to paralyze.

I still have occasional dreams of that place rather than nightmares, because I know it's not real and defeated the evil that lived there. Plus it's nice to have my left arm back time from time.

I step inside and remove my coat & scarf, leaving me in my teal sweater and sweat pants.
Itty wanders through my legs, rubbing me with her furry little tail. I crack a small smile, squatting to pet her; she purrs in response.

Unlike the house where light flickered and dimmed, the need to check every corner rumbled in your gut, shadows would lurk, the need watch you back and pick up the pace through every corridor or open space.

I didn't have to worry about whether or not I could trust the walls, the carpet, the toilet or even myself. I didn't need to worry about the darkness of those walls flooding and swallow me whole to never reach daylight again.

Here I was safe, everything was warm and fussy. Bright lights, birch cabinets, pastel shaggy carpet and a comfy fuzzy couch in front of the TV.

Itty leaves to do whatever cats do as I kick off my shoes at the door way and plop on the couch; rubbing my face into its soft exterior. A sigh escapes my mouth, the weight of work melting off my shoulders.

Moments of peace like this, was always my favorite. No one or entity around, it's just me, myself and I, the comfortable silence and the knowing not only that I'm safe, but I'm safe to live life and cherish every moment while every object around me reassures that safety.

I glance at my prosthetic arm, casually flexing it and messing with my fingers. It was abnormal and weird at first, compared to the rest of the things I faced.

From the old doll that was alive and mocked me, to a giant rat whom I tamed and that damned place "facial" features. The large crab eyes in my parent's bedroom, they weren't a threat but they would just stare. Iris dilating and following me where ever I ran. Then there's the mouth consuming whatever that was laying upon it and would race to catch me in it's jaws, to chomp me in half in our basement. Heh, until I smashed a bowling ball into its disgusting crooked teeth. The bulky human fingers sprouting out the ground like wild grass to crush me like a soda can in the music room. Finally, that giant fleshy beating heart, pumping with so called life; it feed off of suffering so it couldn't be life, more like death. A shutter goes down my spine, I shake it off.

However constantly seeing me and my family die or suffer numbed most of the anguish or filled me with determination to destroy the evil coiling around our bodies and mind. Through thick and thin I stuck to my guts, my wits, my abilities and my body. That was all that could save us, I couldn't trust it but using them were the only way to for me to progress and win.

That was until I lost a part of me, a physical part of me anyways.  It didn't bother me I couldn't use things normally such as wave or holds heavy things, nor waiting until my family were put in the right hospital to treat me correctly and give me a prosthetic arm. My arm would be replace with an indifferent cold heartless attachment but even then it was just a reminder.

It was the fact it was no longer there and I had to sacrifice a piece of myself in order to defeat the "house". The final detachment.

My phone rings, breaking me from my trance. I pull out my phone and squint at the screen; okay, yeah, it's too bright.