Afraid of the Dark

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Come on, please wake up, Tyler," Ethan begged. He was gripping onto one of his older friend's hands tightly, while his other hand was clasping Tyler's right shoulder, periodically shaking it in various degrees of effort, ranging from gentle and cautions to violent and desperate. "Please, please wake up, man..."

Tyler laid sprawled across the floor, his arms and legs splayed out in different directions, unmoving on the floorboards which they rested upon. His head was rolled to the side, a small trickle of blood dripping from his nose that looked to be broken. A lump was swelling at the back of his head, most likely as a result from slamming it against multiple of the hardwood edges of the stairs. The eldest American man had not made a single response to any of Ethan's verbal or physical attempts to communicate, however the younger man forced himself to stay calm. Even though there were no proper responses, he could still feel Tyler's heart beating steadily in his chest, and he could still hear deep and rhythmic breathing too. He was most certainly alive, just either extremely dazed or unconscious.

The youngest man refused to leave his older friend's side. Like Mark had said, if he did that then he would be leaving Tyler alone in a very vulnerable position, one which he couldn't afford to be in right now. However, Ethan would be lying if he said he had not been tempted to try and move away. Although he didn't have any context as to what was happening upstairs, he heard several thuds and thumps, along with loud crashes and the sound of smashing glass. He heard the demented laughs of his corrupted friend's glee, before everything had seemed to go silent.

Loud, thundering footsteps had beat across the house, crashing towards him at a deadly speed. Ethan had tucked his head down towards his chest and used his arms as extra shielding, expecting to suddenly be attacked from who he presumed was Anti. He knew that he would have very little chance in being able to fight his way out of a sudden ambush, so ducking down and shielding himself was the next best option.

The running footsteps momentarily ceased a few feet behind from where Ethan sat, as a gush of wind rushed over his head. The sound reappeared once more, but this time it was a few feet in front of the young American man thudding off somewhere else in the house. As he had run, there had been a fizzle of electricity from nearby appliances. Without being able to see what had happened, Ethan pieced together the events and guessed that Anti had just jumped over his head. Multiple lights had started sporadically flickering, while what must have been a radio of some sort had began crackling. Luckily, as the Irish man moved further away, these effects ended.

The young man knew for certain that he had only heard a single set of footsteps. That means that there was still someone upstairs. Nervously, he tried to focus on whether or not he could hear any noises from the second floor, hoping that perhaps he would soon hear some sort of movement to indicate that his American friend was on his way down, but his attempt was to no avail. Not letting go of Tyler's hand, he kept shifting his head from side to side slowly so that he could try and detect even the smallest of noises, but there was still nothing more than silence. An overwhelming, uninterrupted silence. Part of him feared trying to call out for his friend, in case Anti would backtrack towards the noise. But on the other hand, the corrupted Irish man already knew where he was, so making noise wasn't going to put Ethan in any worse of a situation than he already was in.

"Mark?" he shouted loudly. "Mark, are you still up there?" He waited anxiously for a response, unknowingly gripping onto his friend's hand a little tighter as he tried to calm his nerves. But there was nothing. Not even a shuffle of movement, there was nothing. "Mark? Mark!? Are you okay? You're still up there, right!?" The sound of his increasingly alarmed voice echoed through the old house, before gradually fading away. The unwelcomed silence returned once more. Ethan gave out a shaky sigh, running one of his hands through his hair as he glanced nervously up the stairs, straining his darkened vision to try and locate any figures. He could barely see the white paint on the walls, and could just about make out the individual steps which ascended before him. But that was it. Those were the only details he could identify. A sense of dread started to build within him, one which he struggled to fight back. Just one noise, make any noise, please just let me know you're there, Ethan pleaded within his head. You're gonna be okay, right? You've gotta be okay...