Mommy

Chapter 24: Eyes

"Okay, listen," Anna spoke, more stern than usual. I could see the fright in her expression, so I listened. I knew that I needed to know what she was going to tell me.

I looked towards her and nodded, wiping away my tears. She seemed almost relieved at my cooperation, squatting down beside me. I looked at her bright green eyes.

Her eyes were very pretty— but I could still see one of them still had that scar underneath, which made her beautiful olive green eyes tainted with two white scars underneath.

Her eyes were familiar.

They comforted me.

"If you see her-," Anna paused. "-If you see the Babysitter, just walk away okay. Don't look at her, especially at her eyes. Or, where they should be. And don't touch her raccoon. Just come and find me or Alex or Carson. We are keeping an eye on her so she doesn't-," she swallowed. "-So she doesn't get ahold of one of the young kids like you. And whenever you hear us yell out a place like 'the kitchen' or 'the bathroom', you make sure you stay away from there. And whatever you do, don't touch or get close to any windows or the front door," she pleaded, holding out her pinky for me.

I swallowed my fear down, chills running all over me. They really didn't like this Babysitter, and I began to wonder what she has done before...

"Pinky promise me that you will do as I say? Pinky promise that you will be safe?" Anna begged, shaking her hand in front of me. I had the urge to not let Anna down.

I nodded, looping my pinky with hers.

Anna reluctantly stood up, but before she left the room, she looked back at me. She bit her lip in hesitation, as though she was deciding whether to leave me alone or not.

"And don't listen to what she says, and don't look at what she shows you. It's all fake. Believe nothing. Cover your ears, close your eyes, and walk away."

She eventually left the room, and I almost immediately heard someone yell 'pantry' from downstairs, causing a jolt of fear to rush through me.

I've only been in this room for a minute now, how could she have gotten down there—from the attic?

I never wanted Mommy to be home more than now.

Even if I thought Mommy to be the worse, most horrible woman to exist—she was at least predictable to more measure. I was used to her, and I could least know how to get around her.

But the Babysitter—I knew nothing.

She didn't seem insane or mentally unstable like Mommy—she was just strange and really creepy.

And she moved around up and down stairs with a wheelchair really fast.

I sat there by the door for what seemed to be half an hour before I decided to even move.

I had been listening in, tracking the places they said the Babysitter was. They were running around the house like panicked ants, making sure they always knew where the Babysitter was.

The Babysitter has moved everywhere around the house, and I haven't heard one scrape of metal on wood or one turn from the old wheelchair. She was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I was anticipating the moment where she would find herself in here.

I stood up, my back aching for all the time I sat still with no movement. I peeked outside the door, seeing nor hearing anything. I listened, the house silent.

I took a step back into the room, only to hear something from behind me—from the window.

It sounded like a knock or a stone being thrown against the thick glass. I turned and looked—immediately taken aback when I saw that the window was open, the glass panel pulled completely up.