It was 4 am the morning that Calum called me having an asthma attack. His parents weren't home and he couldn't find his inhaler. He was a complete wreck, freaking out.
He was barely holding himself together when I busted through his bedroom door.
He was laying on his bed, heavy breathing, body shaking. Tears were streaming from his eyes and I could barely see Calum under all of the mess.
I pulled the inhaler from my pocket and shoved it in his mouth. He took a puff or three and then let out deep breaths.
I pulled him close to me, trying to calm his panic attack. I sat on the bed and cuddled him at my side. He was still shaking as I wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Calm down, Calum. It's okay. I'm here now," I spoke softly. Trying to relax a boy who just nearly died is hard to handle.
But eventually, he came around. His breathing was steady and his body was still. He was still out of it, though.
"Thank you, Luke," he said sweetly. He just laid at my side, clutching onto my shirt. His eyes had gray bags under them and his hair was a mess.
He yawned. I couldn't help but grin. "Go to sleep, Calum. I'll be right here. I promise."
Calum looked up at me and smiled.
Here we were again, going through the same motions. But we were scared this time being trapped in a bloody kill zone.
Michael sat at the end of the bed. He was talking with Cheyann whom hadn't yet gotten over the fact that her cousin was just drowned by a vengeful ghost.
"Hey, Luke," Michael said. I looked up at him. Calum was somewhat asleep in my arms.
"Was that painting there a minute ago?" he asked and pointed across the room.
A large painting of an old man and two children. The man reminded me of a Butler while the children seemed like normal children. Apart from the broken necks and bloody clothing.
The man also had a small hole in the center of his forehead. A gunshot?
Michael stood, and walked towards the painting. He read the plaque aloud, "Judson, Tom, and Don Fransisco: The Butler and his boys."
My stomach turned at the sight, "No...It wasn't there just a moment ago. What do you think they do?" I asked.
Michael shrugged, "Butle."
I felt Calum start to shake. I looked down to see that his eyes were closed, but it seemed that he was struggling to open them.
"Calum," I shook him. He didn't budge. He started to toss and turn. He was yelling things now, twisted phrases.
"Daddy don't hurt me! Daddy, please.."
"Daddy, I don't wanna jump.."
"Daddy, why did you kill Tommy?"
"Daddy, I don't want to die..."
"Daddy?"
And just like that, Calum's eyes sprung open. A look of confusion and fear filled them. They were red and blotchy. As if he had been crying.
He was wheezing again.
"Calum, are you okay?" I asked. He didn't pay any attention to me. Instead, he stood from the bed.
I watched. Michael was at the door, standing as a baracade.
Calum looked Michael up and down.
"Daddy said to jump.." Calum said.
I immediately jumped up and followed him.
"Calum, this isn't you.." I said. I grabbed his arms. He pulled away. Michael blocked Calum from leaving the room.
"Calum, stop-" Michael started to protest, but before he knew it, Michael was on the ground.
Calum stepped over him. I follwed.
Calum began to run.
Shit...not Calum...Please Calum...stop...
I began to panic.
Calum ran and ran. Down the hallway and eventually to the stairwell.
We were on the third floor. And....Daddy told Calum to jump....
Fuck..
"CALUM!!" I screamed. But it was too late.
Calum was at the edge of the railing. He looked over and then turned back to me.
I was barely ten feet away and Calum looked me dead in the eye.
"Daddy said to jump."
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Is this story okay? I'm just kind of going with it right now. Is it terrible..?
I love you all - thanks for reading x
- Robin
