The Case of Arania Wolf

Chapter 5

It was late in the evening when we had everything on the premises, most of it in the front yard while the rest was in the living room. Instead of setting up my room first, I spent that evening taking all of Ava's stuff and organizing it in her new room. Derek helped me bring up her white bedroom dresser and put it below the window, but it was empty with his luggage bags tossed to the side.

It was past her bedtime so, while the guys were out getting some coffee and energy drinks, I stayed home to help her get to bed. Usually she was fine on his own, but I remained at home to make sure she was safe. Again, paranoid.

Tucked into her old Avengers blanket, I flipped on her nightlight beside her bed. It was a lamp that sat on top of her black bedside table, and when it was turned on, it slowly spun to make moving images. Little fish swam across the bare walls, the only sound being the slight creaking of the turning lamp.

My lips lightly pressed on my sister's forehead. "Goodnight, kiddo."

She grabbed my hand and took out her writing pad, scribbling: Is Dallas scary?

I swallowed my alarm and responded, "No, he isn't scary."

Scribble again: Why are you scared?

Good question. "I...I don't know. But you know me...I'll toughen up sooner or later. Things are just a little weird for now, but I promise I'll get better."

She held up her pinky finger, and I took it without hesitation.

The sound of the front door opening got me on my feet, and with one last 'goodnight' I left Ava's room and quietly shut the door. Her questions had caught me off guard, and even I couldn't fully answer them, but the best I could do was be as honest as possible with her. She could always read me, even at her young age, so lying to her would be impossible.

Bouncing down the steps, I grabbed a Monster from Derek's hands and popped it open. "Long night, I'm guessing?"

"Unless you want our stuff sitting out there like it's for sale." Derek replied, taking a slurp of his espresso.

"With the things they have, they would rather set our stuff on fire."

His shrug proved he agreed. Derek and I did the same thing to prepare for the long evening and put on our own music, totally drowning out the sounds of the world while still focusing on our father's instruction. While I listened to gentle indie, I was sure my brother was listening to some rock from the nineties. I could never get him off Pearl Jam and Twisted Sister, no matter how hard I tried.

Dad didn't mind our music as long as we paid attention, so we worked in peaceful silence as we arranged the furniture in the house. If it was stuff that belonged upstairs, my brother and I would quietly carry the item to the correct room without waking Ava. Dad brought in one piece of furniture after another while we put it in it's correct room.

Hours passed. By one o'clock, I felt about to pass out.

When all said and done, the three of us had the stuff in the house by three in the morning. Though not exactly organized, it was good enough for us to feel accomplished.

Derek wiped away the sweat that dripped down his forehead with the back of his hand. "Damn. That was fun."

My brows arched. "That was five hours of moving furniture. If you find that fun, then I wouldn't mind you working on the backyard..."

"No thanks." he quickly countered. "I'm good."

Both of our heads were rustled by Dad's skinny hands. "Good job, kids. Go put on your pajamas and get to bed...tomorrow I'll make breakfast."

I frowned. "Dad, you need rest. I'll make breakfast."

"But--"

"No buts." I attacked his attempt at convincing me with solid reasoning. "I have a hard time sleeping, anyway. You know...the nightmares."

Dad exhaled. "Alright. But if I wake up first..."

"You can cook all you want."

He seemed quite fine with my deal, so he sent us both of to bed while he crashed on the couch. Unfortunately, the master bed was still downstairs and was taken apart for the move, so tomorrow it would have to be brought upstairs and rearranged. Then everything would have to be put in place, and I would go find something else to do that kept my brain occupied.

I spent barely thirty seconds brushing my teeth before striping down to only an oversized gray t-shirt (originally Derek's until I stole it) and my black boxer briefs. Being in a house of a single Dad, everyone was always half dressed.

Wrap hair in a bun: check. Close blinds: check. Lock room door: check. Keep swiss army knife under pillow: check. I never found myself in a situation where I needed the little silver device, but better safe than sorry.

I slipped under the covers and daringly let my eyes slink shut, inviting my terrible unconsciousness to take hold and pull me into an opaque world of torture. A torture that was always resolved in horror.

~

Mirrors. When my eyes opened, I was in a room completely filled with mirrors, each on showing my melancholic face and slim body.

One mirror was false. I turned and my reflections turned with me, investigating the odd mirror more closely. There was a black blotch just behind the ear, like a shadow clinging to the side of my head. It didn't belong there.

I leaned closer. It moved.

A spider crawled from that shadow, scrambling across my face and into my slightly parted mouth. I staggered, then looked at the other reflections.

Spiders everywhere. They climbed up my legs, burrowed into my hair, squeezed into my ears. The tiny black ghosts ran in and out of my body until my skin turned coal black. I didn't dare look down...what if they were really there? I couldn't feel them, but I could hear their little legs scratching against my skin, could smell the scent of must and death sneak it's way into my lungs.

Well, maybe just a peek.

My mouth parted to scream. I could feel them now, their furry bodies tickling the back of my neck. I watched them rush through my physique like black ink stains, soaking me in shadow until I was nothing but a silhouette of obscurity.

I screamed, then fell into total darkness.

Slam. I landed on cold ground, my bones crumbling with the collision. Each little spider had turned to ash, and I laid in the pile of gray silt until I could see a faint light above me. My bones were broken. There was no way I could move or even speak, my fractured ribs biting into my lungs. Pain so excruciating that I couldn't even cry. I was too shocked to do anything, too near death to even shed a tear.

Everything moved in reverse. Slowly, my bones began snapping together. I hovered over the ash that began to scurry away as the room rotated. The light was no longer up, but forward. Breathe. Speak. Walk. I could do everything.

I decided to walk. Walk towards that faint light which grew stronger as I came closer. Wait, it wasn't a light...it was a sink. A bathroom sink. My bathroom sink. And above the sink, the mirror.

My pace slowed. I couldn't look in the mirror. The fear of seeing myself grew more and more prominent. Soon, it wasn't me who was moving. The sink began to pull itself closer to me until there was nothing to do but look at myself, look at my fake pink hair and flushed skin.

Something came over me: the urge to touch it. I reached my hand out, my index finger stretched to feel the smooth surface of the mirror exactly where my cheek was. With just one small tap, the mirror cracked.

I brought my hand over to my cheek.

My body was made of fine porcelain. Once touched, it cracked more.

And more.

And more.

The last thing I could do before shattering into fragments of a broken china doll was scream.