Demoni

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I heard that damn old grandfather clock, it was 12:00 am. I had papa's old knit blanket he had gotten from Salerno, when he left to go visit Nonna. My foot was sticking out of the blankets and dangling over the floor. Papa stopped carrying me by the time I was twelve. Now I was 16, and not even god could carry me up the stairs. Everyone was most likely sleeping by now.
I pushed both my legs over the floor and sat up straight on the couch. I heard giggling again. I half smiled and rolled my eyes. "Amelia, don't be dumb. I know it's you." No reply, and I didn't expect one. "Mel, cut it out." She just laughed again. I turned around and faced the mirror. I pretended I was walking out of the living room. A stupid twelve year old always falls for that, especially if their name is Amelia Anna Dimatteo. "Alright Mel, I'm going upstairs now." I walked out of the room as slowly as possible, but quickly turned back assuming she would've jumped out of where ever she was. She didn't jump out. I looked into the mirror again, and tried to pull the same skit again. Before I started to leave the room, something in the mirror started to move. I turned around and faced the door that leaded into the basement, then looked back into the mirror. The door creaked and started to open slowly. "Come on, Amelia." I said. "I-it's not funny anymore." The door kept creaking, and so far I couldn't see anyone on the other side of that door. "Hey..." That didn't sound like my sister or my brother. "Are you afraid?" The whispering raspy voice asked. Why was it talking to me? Why me? I stared into the mirror again. "Who is that?" I said. The fear gnawed at my mind, I panted as I felt cold air brush past the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and listened to the basement door slowly creak again and again and again. "Are you afraid of the dark?" The voice said again. The cold rush of air brushed past my neck once more. The basement door swung open, and the living room door slammed shut. The room was dead silent, until I heard glass shatter, the light bulb was out. I felt two large hands on my neck.
I started to scream. The hands were boiling, I felt them singe my neck as I cried for help. My screams were so loud, I couldn't even hear the sounds of my parents running down the stairs. I couldn't even hear the sound of my father throwing himself against the unlocked door that wouldn't open. The hands moved all around my neck, burning my skin. I kept on screaming, at the top of my lungs. The hands pressed harshly on my chest, and then ripped off of my neck pulling a small bit of skin off. Papa swung open the door to find me crying, laying face down on the floor. The basement door slammed shut. Papa rushed to my side and held me in his arm. I was still screaming. Even though the hands were gone, I still felt the pressure on my neck. "Ralph, go and get the flashlight." Mama ordered. Mama stood in the doorway, holding Amelia close to her. Amelia looked at me and papa lying on the floor. As much fear that could be seen in my crying eyes, you could see in papas too. Ralphie ran back into the living room with the flashlight and gave it to mama. Mama turned it in with her trembling hands.
"Bambina, bambina!" I was still screaming and crying. "Shhh, shhh..." Papa kept trying to calm me. It wasn't working. "What happened?! What happened?!" He screamed. I continued to cry and tried to explain the horror I had just seen. "I-I woke up and I heard giggling," I explained through my weak breath. "I thought it was Amelia trying to scare me like she did yesterday, s-so I tried to trick her into coming out of her hiding place, but it wasn't her Daddy." Papa looked at me with such confusion in his eyes. "Then all of the lights burnt out, and I felt hands on my neck papa. I felt hands on my neck." I stopped speaking because of the way I was bawling, it was way to hard for my family to understand what I was saying. "Aleece, that's crazy." Mama shined the flashlight on me. She stared at my neck. "Carlo, there's red handprints on her. Look at the bruises on her chest." Papa looked down at me. "Vincenza, it seems really absurd." Papa said in Italian. "No Carlo," once again she stared at my red, bleeding neck and my blue dotted chest. "It's not."