Wings

Three Years Ago

I rolled over in bed and groaned as I realized that it was still the middle of the night. Why couldn't I just fall asleep? I pulled my pillow out from under me and covered my face with it, blocking out the image of my dark room. Suddenly, there was a crash outside my bedroom door. I froze and listened more carefully. There was the sound of footsteps and another crash. What was going on? There wasn't anyone else in the house besides my sister, me and the nanny, Ira. I silently slipped from bed and tip-toed to the door. There was more footsteps. They were hurrying away down the hall. Could Ira be up? I carefully reached for the doorknob and opened the door silently. I peeked up and down the hall until I saw a small beam of white light move across the floor. I jumped and flinched away from the door. But then my curiosity got the best of me and I crept forward to peek again. The little beam of light had disappeared. I gently eased the door open enough to where I could slip through and I crept down the hall. I reached the end and I stood there as I witnessed the scene in front of me. The couch had been overturned and the cushions were cut open, spilling stuffing everywhere. The glass coffee table was shattered into a million pieces, the magazines scattered across the floor in ripped pages. The TV was gone, the cords that hung from the wall seeming to mock me. I turned my eyes to the doorway that led into my dad's office and I was horrified to see that all the filing cabinets had been tipped over, the papers spilled everywhere. His mahogany desk had been splintered and the spinning chair had been tossed across the room. I turned to enter the kitchen and I carefully tip-toed to the doorway. There was a lot of noise coming from in that direction. I peeked my head around the corner and I saw something even more horrifying than the office and the living room. Ira was rummaging through the drawers, a gun in her hand. What was going on? I carefully stepped out into the doorway and reached for the light switch. The light came on and Ira gave a startled jump. She turned and pointed the gun at me. But we both froze. She carefully lowered her gun and gave me a sadistic smile.

"Oh, dear Isabelle. I didn't mean to wake you." She hissed. I was startled by the change in her. Normally, Ira was a sweet and caring person. Why would she trash the penthouse like this? I rubbed my eyes sleepily.

"Ira, what's going on?" I asked drowsily. She started to move closer, that silver gun at her side.

"I'm sorry you had to see this, sweetheart. Maybe I can get rid of this image." She slowly lifted the gun and I gasped as I watched what happened in slow motion what happened. Ira pulled the trigger and I ducked in time for the bullet to whiz over my head. I screamed and took off running. I reached my bedroom door and Emily ran out of her room. I looked at her in fear and I started to cry. She quickly hugged me tightly and she pulled me into my room.

"What's going on, Isabelle?" She asked me. I looked up at her.

"I-It's Ira. She's gone crazy. We have to get help." I whispered urgently. Emily looked down at me.

"Alright. I have my phone with me. I'm just going to call the police." She told me gently before reaching into the pocket of her sweatpants. She herded me into the huge closet, pushing me down in the tiny crawlspace behind a bunch of my clothes. It seemed agonizing as I waited for her to start speaking.

"Hello? Yes I need immediate help to-" She began saying. But I wasn't paying attention. I was listening for the sounds of someone coming. But nobody did. I held my breath. Suddenly, I heard the sound of something crashing. It was in the room next door.

"Where are you, little brats?" I heard Ira's maniacal voice cackle and I whimpered. She was looking for us. We crouched there for the longest time before the door suddenly burst open. I covered my face as I heard Ira moving around in my bedroom.

"Come out come out, little girls." Her voice rang in my ears and Emily wrapped her arms around me, covering me and protecting me from seeing the entrance to the crawlspace. I took multiple deep breaths and looked up at her.