Mommy

Chapter 41: Basement

To my relief, Jen came back.

I could see a small light at the end of the tunnel, and at first—I didn't know what it was. My heart dropped in my chest before I figured out it was Jen—and I quickly realized Jen left earlier to go get a light of some sort.

It was a tight fit for Jen to get through the tunnel, but she managed, holding what seemed to be a lit stick of wax in her right hand. I was worried the flame would accidentally set the tunnel on fire.

Jen seemed confused and worried about what was up ahead. Her face looked pale as the approached me, the yellow light bouncing off her freckle-splattered skin.

"Well, go," she said quietly, my ears not missing the tone of frustration she still managed to have. I nodded, moving ahead.

Even though Jen was rude and loud and somewhat of a snitch, I was glad not to be alone right now.

More of, I was glad I was alone with someone else.

I crawled forward, the dim light from the candle lighting my way. From where I was, I saw no end—nothing ahead of us.

But now that we had the small light, I could clearly see the changes in the scenery. The walls were no longer built of boxes and blankets, but they were bland, and it looked like formed concrete as a tunnel.

I began to feel squeamish as it seemed as though the walls were closing in and shrinking as we carried on.

"Move faster," Jen scolded, moving the little flame close to the back of my leg—where I could feel it's immense warmth. A silent threat.

I winced, moving faster.

The further we moved, the more I believed that this house isn't what it seemed. It wasn't normal—it wasn't like any other house I had been to. Alex's words filled my senses, and I remembered what he said a long time ago.

"If you ask me, kiddo—I think it's the house that made them like this. I think it's the—"

The thought made me twinge with sadness. It began to occur to me that Mommy's house wasn't so normal either.

If this was any other house, we would have already fallen out of the other side.

The concrete walls around me seemed to be shrinking—even coming to a point where I had to crawl on my elbows to get through without scraping against the walls.

Jen hissed in annoyance as her body, much larger than mine, pressed against the walls as she tried to hold the candle up. She was shanking, and her breath was heavy.

"You hold it," she hissed, and I could feel her push the hot wax forward, into my field of sight. I reached back and took a hold of it, only making it harder to move forward. I pressed my head against the floor, the walls beginning to press against me skull.

I wanted to turn back.

It began to get hard to breath, the tiny area suffocating me. I gasped, trying to squirm backwards. I didn't want to be here anymore, it was getting to hard to breath. It it definitely didn't look like it was leading anywhere.

Jen didn't say anything.

hugged my sides and I couldn't possible imagine how hard it must be for Jen—for Jen to move and breathe. Jen coughed.

I wheezed, kicking back, hopefully getting the message to Jen. She hissed, pinching my leg. I silently yelped.

"Stop- Stop it! I...I can't move. The wall-"

I managed to look back, twisting my head as my forehead scraped against the walls—fear clenching my gut. At the sight, I dropped the candle, the small light immediately flickering out, leaving us in complete darkness.