MOTEL CHILD (Haunted)

Devil Knows Me

In awkward left foot swinging over the right foot, and then the right swinging over the left in an exaggerated Indian stalk, I tip-toed up the mountain of steps until I reached the ivory colored front door. Keeping my breath bridled at the back of my throat, I brought the knife up in a stabbing motion and twisted the door knob. It opened willingly, as if it knew I was coming. I slipped my foot through and then my shoulder and then my head. I looked around and saw nothing but darkened rooms. I squeezed in and closed the door behind me, keeping my hand still on the knob in case I needed to bolt.

As I tried to figure out where to go, I heard the click of a light turn on. I dropped to my hands and feet and scuttled against the wall all the way to the lit room. I pushed my body against the icy wall behind me and slowly peeked into the room, expecting to see someone standing there in front of the window, or someone tied in the chair. But instead, I saw a gadget tied to a kitchen timer that was set every hour and a half to flip the light off and on. Horrified at the trick that had been played on me, I slammed a defeated fist against the wall. Knowing what I had just done, I quickly dashed up the stairs leading to what I expected to be the bedrooms.

On my way down a carpeted floor, I saw a door to my left swing open and a figure rushed out with his hand held high above his head, holding a butcher knife. My feet surprised me at their speed as I dodged to the side, missing the serrated blade. The killer’s arm came down, leveling his face with mine. It was Norman Bates. I spun around in a circle and raced down the stairs, my hand catching onto the decorated post at the bottom. Using my speed, I propelled myself around the post and down the hall to the kitchen. However, instead of running into the kitchen, I spotted stairs leading down to another room.

I took the chance and ran down. I crashed into the door, opening it wide and then slammed it behind me. Knowing the door was secure enough for me to find a place to hide or escape, I pivoted on my feet to run. But, in doing so, my heels slipped on something thick and gooey. Looking down and slowly lifting one of my feet, I saw a trail of blood smeared past a rocking chair in front of me and then into a corner on the far side of the room. The room was also lit by a fireplace directly in front of the fire. I thought it odd that a fire would be going, but then again, nothing was making sense to me at the moment. Returning my attention back to the floor, I stared down at the reflective pools of blood. My brain swelled and I felt like I was going faint, but I forced myself to walk forward, thinking only of saving myself.

The blood trail parted off into several directions, confusing me. I looked to the right, only to be terrified by a severed arm. Snapping my head to the left, I saw the other arm. My own blood rushed to my head, sending me into vertigo. I collapsed onto the floor, my whole body in a vicious tremor. My palms became clammy and a cold sweat seeped from my forehead. Finding that I was still holding my kitchen knife, I threw it aside and pushed myself off the floor, my eyes on the door ahead of me. I realized it was the same room I had broken in earlier, for the door still had a jagged hole in it.

The blood trail became thicker until I saw it trail up the concrete wall and stop at a butchered body. My feet drove themselves into the ground and everything inside of me that was living stopped for a moment. The dead eyes stared down at me as the mouth hung open in a scream. I knew who it was. And in my terror, I shouted her name, “Mom!” I crumpled to the ground in sobs. My heart crunched under the sadness and soon anger. It was Bates. He killed her. He killed her because his “mother” told him to. It was right there I realized I was in the infamous cellar that Lilly had mentioned once to me.

With a strength found only in my fury, I pushed myself off the ground and prepared myself to face the monster. But as I charged for the door to find my father again, the rocking chair moved and a voice whimpered. I dropped to the ground as if a grenade had gone off, but to my relief, it was someone far sweeter than any manmade weapon.