Tethered

Chapter Five

1

As if understanding that what she did was a mistake, Sarah slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that emitted. Tears frayed their way out of her eyes, but she was afraid to make a sound. Slowly, and cautiously, she began to back away. She pressed her lips together aware of the soft whimper she was making.

She felt like she was suffocating. But the boy didn't approach her. He simply took something at the back of his pant. In the faded twilight, Sarah saw what it was. Her father had one. Almost everyone has one. A gun. A strangled, small yelp escaped her lips, and she pressed her hand harder.

The boy cocked the gun, and Sarah nearly fainted at the realization of what was about to happen. Her heart was throbbing in her ears, loud and irregular, but she barely heard it, for her mind was clouded with fear.

She watched as he pointed the gun at the almost lifeless boy on the ground. Without so much as hint of hesitation, the rattling sound of bullets filled Sarah's ears. Sarah let out a frightened scream, her hands shielding her eardrums.

The reports were loud, and it didn't seem like the boy was going to stop planting the chain of bullets into another him. Screaming, Sarah found her feet, but as soon as she stood up, she slipped and fell back down.

2

That didn't stop her. She sprung to her feet again, and sent herself jetting past the boy, half expecting a bullet to tore the back of her head. For a split second, she pictured her body falling limp on the ground, blood leaking from the hole in her brain.

She locked the door behind her, crying, and leaning against it. Then, her eyes lit up. The cops. She ran for the home telephone resting on the table, but suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Something was wrong. Where was everyone?

"Dad!" She yelled, her voice cracking and tight. She seemed to have forgotten about the cops. The reports stopped and a stung of guilt took over Sarah's fear. He'd saved her. Why couldn't she? It was her fault he's dead. She could've tried. The two of them could've escaped the other him. It was possible. It wasn't too late to save him. But she let him die—watched him die.

She cried, shading more tears. "I'm sorry", she sobbed. "Dad, where are you? I can't do this anymore. What's happening?"

She started up the stairs, confused, exhausted, pained, scared, and filled with so much guilt. With each step she took, she felt like she could collapse. She trudged up in a haze, and couldn't even feel the hand that touched her head and smashed it into the railing, breaking it.

She fell four feet to the floor, pieces of wood cutting through her skin. There was no time to scream or figure out what had happened. With her head spinning, and blood leaking from a few cuts, Sarah crawled back up the stairs. She couldn't think straight but knew she could be safe in her bedroom, with her door locked. She could hide in the bathtub. It was safe there.

3

Halfway up the stairs, someone grabbed her leg, and dragged her down. She gasped. She was more in shock than fright. She couldn't process the pattern of events. It was confusing. How did the boy get in the house? The backdoor? Wasn't it locked? There was no time to think about that now.

She grabbed onto the railing, and that's when she saw who it was. It wasn't the boy.

It.

Was.

Her.

It was herself. It was another Sarah. Just like the boy, Sarah had another Sarah. Adrenalines surged through her. Fear clawed at her chest, tightening it, making it harder to breath. Her eyes watered.