Daddy, Why Are You Biting Me?

PART III

Here I sit, in front of Wayne, the old man who once lived in the house that my family and I now live in. Do I believe what he's told me about the house? The story as terrifying as it is, is still so hard to believe. I wasn't even sure if I believed in demons or the devil. My whole life I thought I was so realistic, but now this house has completely challenged my way of thinking. Never have I felt fear like this. Never have I felt this insane.

If I choose not to believe Wayne, then here I sit, my day turned into a meaningless, wild goose chase. What would I do next? If I choose not to believe him, do I just return to the house?

"Thank you, Wayne. I'm so sorry to intrude like I did," I say as I stand up. "Trust me. I understand. I really do. That place is evil." I nod, and make my way to the door of Wayne's little cottage. "Take care," I say. "You too'" he responds. I walk back to my car and get in.

I take a deep breath, breathing in deeply, trying to cure the sudden dizziness I felt rush over me. I collect myself, and then drive. I take a final look at Wayne's cottage. He was already back inside the small, wooden fortress.

My mind swarms with so many thoughts and emotions. I feel truly sad for Wayne, a demon at fault or not, losing someone close to you is a terrible thing. If I were to lose Victor or Max, I wouldn't know what to do. That's why I want to leave the house.

Wayne's story was horrible and frightening, but frankly it sounded crazy. Everything that Connie said was terrifying, but it's almost as if she was telling me a campfire story. It was scary in the moment, but it's so farfetched, it's hard for me to feel affected by it now. I'm no longer around the campfire, I can tell myself it's just a story. But the honest truth is that I'm scared of what I saw in the house myself, with my own two eyes. Whether what Wayne said was true or not, I am scared. And in the small, sliver of a chance that everything I have ever believed about ghosts and demons and Hell is utterly and completely wrong, I do not want my family to potentially be in danger.

It's time to pick up Max. The sun is setting. I had been running around chasing these ghost stories all day. As I drive to Katherine's place right outside the city, I play different scenarios and game plans in my head. "We can go to the house grab a few things and stay in a hotel until Victor gets home from the Philadelphia conference. I'll talk to him when he gets home. He'll understand. We'll pack up everything and leave as soon as he gets home," I say to myself in the rearview mirror. It is the best I can think of now. My mind spins. I flip between feeling completely batty, feeling nervous and feeling focused, and protective. I can't think of any of scenario.

Max sits in the backseat talking about his day. I try my best to remain calm, and to make sure he can't sense how much I'm unraveling. Against my best judgement, I stayed a bit longer than I should have at Katherine's. She offered me left over pizza, and we gabbed about simple things, like work and travelling. I never mentioned the house.

Now, as we drive to the house, the sun is completely set and the sky swirls in dark shades of blues and purples around the moon. "Aunt Katherine played a game at the arcade, and I beat her so bad," Max laughs. "It was so funny! And we did a dancin' game. We shook all around. It was crazy."

"I'm so glad you had so much fun, buddy."

"Yeah, Aunt Katherine's great!" he shouts. I hear him playing with a toy in the backseat. It's a small plastic dinosaur he won at the arcade today. I hear the silent squeaks and snaps of him moving about the toy's arms and feet. Every now and then he lets out a silent roar under his breath voicing the dinosaur, "raaaar."

"Hey, Dad?" he asks.

"Yes, buddy?"

"When is Daddy coming home?"