Joey Small

Sneaking (3)

Step. Step. Step. St-freeze. In the line of sight, cannot be seen. OK, the coast is clear. Step. Step. A little further.

I feel uneasy as I try to get some shut eye. With a new family, a much bigger one, should I be feeling more protected? After all, there are more people to protect me in case, in a wort case scenario, that psycho decides to pay me another little visit.

"Surprise motherfucker!" He cackles maniacally. I can't even scream. He's gotten me again. I try to look away, but all I see is red. Those bright eyes, he's returned my glare, the flame burning brighter than last time. He's not playing around.

I can't fight back. Paralysed with fear. I find it within me to call for help. A simple yell for Rebecca comes out of me like a muffled, suffocating scream. I don't see how this is possible. Did he follow me here? The monster under my bed, he's trying to get inside my head. To fuck me up more than I already am after our first encounter.

The darkness couldn't cloak me from someone made of it. Yes, he is a complete lack of light; pure evil. My new family failed to defend me against his antics, they allowed him to strike the very same night. Maybe I'm still alone after all.

"Goodnight Joey." He says, sounding sincere, but is not hiding the mockery. The line repeats in my head continuously. Goodnight Joey. Sleep tight. I hope I didn't give you a fright. I can't even comprehend anything. I refuse to. This is all too much. It's too soon. To think about him. Yes, I want to join them, more than anything in the world I wish to see them again; to be with them again. They are worth dying for. But I can't leave. Not now. I must avenge them or I am unworthy of seeing them ever again. Over and over I will remind myself of this. For if I really want to see them, I can. I'll say my goodbyes in an instant and be with them the next. I can't just back out and give up. Not while my flame is still burning bright. When life is hard, I need to remember to not ask Why me? But to respond saying Try me!

Rebecca comes running into my room as he makes a hasty escape. He's the culprit yet I'm the prey in this game of Cat and Mouse. I need to climb up the food chain. She flicks the light on, the yellow momentarily blinding me. I pant heavily. She asks what on earth I was screaming about. More heavy panting. I'm too shocked to speak. She sits next to me, looking at me with caring eyes. I turn my head ninety degrees to face her, and I see her comforting smile as she hold me close. "It's OK, Joseph. I'm here for you." She couldn't have been prepared for such a sly attack, so I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she does care. Then, the little ones also walk in, covering their eyes from the bright light. "Is everything OK Joseph?" They enquire, also giving me cute eyes to make me melt. After Timothy brings me water I ask them to send the little ones back in case the story is too graphic. Timothy shoos them off and I explain myself to Rebecca.

"He came back?" She wonders, not quite convinced.
"Yeah." I reply, simply. I don't know how to make her believe me. I just say "I'll prove it." And tilt my head sideways as I think of the actual evidence I've comprised.
           She clearly didn't see him. Hearing him is also off the table. Physical proof- think Joseph. As I put my hands on my head in frustration, leaning into them, I remember the key piece of evidence. My scar. If he marked me last time, chances are he would've done the same this time. To show all the times he's come for me. It's like how Harry Potter received that lightning bolt scar from Voldemort. The last time it was on my left wrist. I turn that one over to see if there's anything new. Nothing. Looking at it makes me feel itchy, but she grabs my wrist to prevent it.
"Did he do this?" Wrong hand and she's already believing me. I'm honest, so I tell her: "no, that's from last time."
"Oh right." I'm losing her. "Well, OK. Let's check the other wrist for a scar." Of course. Little me wouldn't have thought of that. But then I realise that I would've been bleeding if he had struck me again. I don't feel any fluid flowing across my skin. Maybe it a wasn't deep enough cut, I say, reassuring myself.

We turn my right wrist over. As she inspects it thoroughly I look at her, too shaken up to check myself. She looks about 19 years old; brunette with green eyes. A stunning sight to say the least. She was like a older sister to me, maybe even a mother figure at times. Like this. She sees no wound, but proceeds to give it a magic kiss anyway. "Does it still hurt?" She asks softly, trying not to wake anybody else up, most likely. I shake my head. "That's our fighter. I'm gonna go to bed now, if you need anything let me know. OK?"
"Gotcha." I was knackered and confused.

She dimmed the light. Not turned it off. I wasn't sure why. I stare at the flickering light, on and off. It shines shakily, but shines nonetheless. Weakly, but constantly. It resembles my passion to carry on, though I'm sure  my sparks have ignited a hotter passion. "Goodnight." I wince as she wishes me a good night. She doesn't ask why. She just apologises and leave the room, switching the light off completely.

I wait for my eyes to adjust to the black, so I can see through my enemy if he foolishly goes for a triple kill. As I am able to see what is ahead of me, I turn my head into my stomach and shut my eyes. It seems weird that I have a stalker than nobody can see. I know I'm not imagining it. There must be a scar, perhaps she's just as oblivious as I am. I am already scarred for life, but I add that horrifying encounter to my list of battle scars anyway. Two and counting. At least things can only get better from here. Through the darkness, I feel his red glowing eyes watch over me. He calls me in my sleep, tempting me. I'm not scared. I'm stronger then that. Good always prevails above evil. Even if it should be a 50-50 chance (using the coin analogy) similar to fairy tales, there's always magic that tips the scale. Life may not be a fairy tale, but I will get my happily ever after.