Kraant

Chapter 6

The boy was lounging on his couch, bag clutched in his hand while he peered inside. The TV was just simply turned on, to keep a steady background noise running in the otherwise silent lonely house.

The only other sounds in the house came from the refrigerator and the low hum of the inverter, and the flickering lights of the kitchen even though not provided any actual sound, but it was the ambience that really mattered.

The boy kept rummaging through his bag where his initial 'R' was engraved, probably designed specifically for him. A chill ran down his lower body, rendering goosebumps everywhere. He realised he may have left the windows open when he went out this morning.

Petrichor, the smell of rain, basked the interiors, leaving entrails of memories only felt but never quite understood nor remembered. The TV abruptly shut off, accompanied by a flickering pixel that created a random pattern of dots and left behind a faint 'flickering' noise.

An incomprehensible unease and discomfort enveloped him, although he couldn't quite connect that feeling to his home, his only place of comfort in this hell hole.

He looked around, trying to find something he could blame for this awful feeling, only to be struck by his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes reflected back the hunger of blood he felt, waiting to ravish the taste of pure terror.

Only to realise those eyes weren't his own.

Those eyes met his own in the mirror, a mirthful smile graced his handsome face, stretching unnaturally wide for a human. A hand came towards him, only then his terrorised completely still form broke, and pure instinct took over.

He sprang away from the sofa, scrambling backwards until his back pressed against the wall. A playful chuckle escaped the intruder's lips, finding amusement in the sight of a boy retreating for his own safety.

"Wh-Who ...are y-you?" The boy stuttered.

Since, he didn't want to stress the boy's brain to remember one additional name before his death, he just uttered only one word,

"Run."

Almost toppling over in his haste to scramble away, the boy somehow managed to climb the stairs, with his persuer exactly in the place where he left him. A twisted smile still there, as if a predator watching his prey running around in his own den.

When he was in the master bedroom, the only room which had the most efficient lock, he realised that he had left his phone in that room.

Having no other way than to hide in this spot till the rain subsided, so that he can shout to his neighbours about the intruder, he quickly further locked himself in the wardrobe.

Hoping that the intruder had not managed to somehow gain the keys to the doors, which seemed unlikely because the intruder had made his entry into the house even though he had locked the main door.

Being suffocated by clothes and lack of space and air was not how he imagined his day to go. Nor was the whistling and footsteps in the corridor.

The sound of footsteps ended just before the bedroom door, instead joined by mirthless chuckles. He prayed to whatever deity was up there to save him, he may have not been the best person to be around but he never intentionally hurt anyone.

He did, many times.

The images of those innocents whom he had hurt, that one boy who's skin he had tainted with scars for anger he felt for others appeared before his eyes.

The door cracked open, making a noise because of being pulled at its hinges, making its owner know about its need of oiling.

He promised to God if he saved him then he would oil it every week, never skipping. A futile attempt at bargaining with the Almighty.