May 4th, 2011
If she was still enough, quiet enough, he wouldn't find her. He thought he knew all her hiding places, but he had never discovered her secret niche, a small hollow hole in the study's wall, concealed by the shelves that contained numerous books.
As a little girl she had slipped into this space, every time they were playing hide and seek, she'd curl up into a ball in this small space. She'd giggle at his frustration as he thumped from room to room, searching for her. Sometimes the game would go on so long, she'd fall asleep and would wake up a few hours later to the sound of her mother calling her name.
Now here she was again, in the little hiding place. But she was no longer a child. She was 13, and barely able to squeeze into the niche. And this was no longer a lighthearted game of hide and seek.
She could hear him upstairs, roaming the house, in search of her. He rampaged from room to room, cursing, with the occasional sound of furniture slamming onto the floor.
Please, please, someone help us, someone make him go away....
She heard him roar her name from the kitchen. "ASPHODELE!" His footsteps creaked near the study. Approached the door. Her hands balled into tight fists, and her heart was beating so loud, she hoped he was not able to hear it.
I'm not here, I'm in the skies, soaring as high as I can with the birds in the night sky. I am anywhere but here....
The study door flew open, slamming into the wall. Golden light shone through the doorway. She held in her breath.
He reached up to flick the light switch, and the bare bulb came on, dimly illuminating the study. Cowering behind the shelves of books, stationary and a box of batteries, she heard him step in to the room. She pressed herself deeper into the hollow, flattening herself into the crumbling stone and mortar, and closed her eyes, willing to be invisible. Through the slamming of her own heartbeat, she heard his footsteps edging closer.
Don't see me, don't see me....
The footsteps moved right past the shelves of books, and headed towards the far end of the study. She heard him kick over a box. Batteries and other odd things shattered on the cold, marble floor. Now he was circling back and she could hear his harsh breathing. Her own breaths were coming on short and slow, her fingers clentched so tightly that she thought her bones would shatter. The footsteps moved to the shelves of numerous books and stopped.
Don't find me, please don't find me..
Her eyes shot open and through a chink of books she saw him standing right in front of her. She had slid down until her gaze was level with his shoes. She cringed even lower, dropping as far beyond his sight as she could. He took a book from the top shelf and smashed it against the floor. He reached for a second jar, then put it back, as though another thought had occured to him. He turned and swtiched off the lights, closing the door.
Once again, she was in darkness.
She realized that she had been crying, her face damp from the tears. But she didn't even dare release a whimper.
Upstairs the footsteps creaked toward the front of the house and there was silence.
Has he left? Had he finally gone away?
She remained frozen, not daring to move. The minutes went by. Ten. Twenty. Thirty... Her muscles were cramping, her spazms so painful that she just wanted to scream. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
An hour.
Two.
Three...
Still no sound from above.
Slowly, but steadily, she emerged from her hiding place. She stood in the darkness, allowing her blood to recirculate back to her muscles, for the feeling of her legs.
Listening... the whole time. Listening...
She heard nothing. The blinds were shut, she didn't know if it was dark or light outside. She daren't pull the blinds open in case he noticed. She stepped though the floor slowly, before closing to the door. Her palms were so slick that she had to wipe them on her shirt before she could open the door.
Slow and steady...
Her fingers enclosed the knob, turning it slowly, being careful not to make a sound.
The lights were on in the kitchen, and everything looked startlingly normal. She almost believed that the horror that happened last night was just a bad dream. The grandfather clock ticked loudly. She glanced at the clock. It was 5 am., still dark outside.
She tiptoed into the kitchen doorway, crouching, and peered into the hall. One glimpse at the splintered furniture, the splashes of blood on the weary wallpaper, told her that she had not been dreaming. Sweat dripped down from her palms.
The hallway was deserted, the front door hung open.
She had to get out of the house. Run to the neighbours, run to the police...
She started up the hall, each step bringing her closer to glorious escape. Terror had primed her five senses to such acuity that she registered every fragment of splitered wood on the floral carpet, every tick of the grandfather clock, every pump of her heartbeat. She was almost at the front door.
Then she cleared the banister and came within view of the stairs, where her mother had toppled, head down. She couldn't stop herself from staring at the body, at her mother's long hair draping down the steps, like black water rippling downhill.
Nausea surging up her throat, as she lurched towards the front door. He was standing there, with a smirk playing on his lips. On his hand was an axe.
With a sob, she spun around and darted up the stairs, almost slipping on her mother's blood. She heard him pounding up the stairs after her. She had always been faster than he, and terror made her fly up the stairs like a panicked kitten.
On the second floor landing, she caught a glimps of her father's corpse, lying halfway out of his bedroom doorway. There was no time to think about it, no time to absorb the horror; she was already dashing up the flight of stairs into the turret room.
She slammed the door and latched it just in time.
He gave out a roar of rage and began pounding on the closed door. She scurried over the window and forced it open. Staring at the ground below, she knew that there was no way to survive this fall.
I'm going to die...
Thoughts went up her head. There was no way out of this room. A loud thud sent a splinter of wood flying towards her, breaking her from her thoughts. She glanced back, and to her horror, she saw the tip of the axe poking through the door. She saw it pried loose again for the next swing. Her heart was in her mouth.
He was breaking through.
