Cutting is No Joke

                The sound of the door slamming echoed through the house, alerting me to his presence. I could hear him clomp up the stairs, passing my room and heading up two more floors. He would be going to the attic, where he spent most of his time. Letting out a sigh of relief, I crept out of my room. I knew he wouldn’t be coming down. Dinner was brought to him. By me, of course, since all the servants had long gone, saying they couldn’t stand being in this house any longer.

                I carried up a tray filled with a hamburger, sausage, lettuce, and carrots, along with a glass of water. Everyday, there was a written request for dinner sitting on the kitchen counter. It was tiring, having to walk up four flights of stairs while watching to make sure nothing spilled. I finally reached the ladder that led up to the attic, which was barred with a trapdoor. A sigh escaped from me. It felt like I was serving the king, too lowly to interact with him. “Gage! Dinner’s ready.” I knew I wouldn’t get a reply.

                The antique grandfather clock struck 12, the noise echoing through the nearly empty house. My parents were on a business trip . . . again. I could hear the floors creaking and the heater humming in the basement. Oddly enough, it was always after midnight when the scratching started. It was similar to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. I shuddered. Tonight, the scratching was accompanied by squeaks that I knew didn’t come from the floorboards, and whimpers. The clock struck 3, and all noise stopped. I held my breath and listened quietly. Nothing. No wind, no crickets, nothing. I pressed my eyes together and waited for the four bongs. There. The noise started up again. It was almost like a ritual. Every single night after mine and Gage’s 16th birthday, this happened. I was an insomniac and the only thing I ever did at night was stare at the ceiling and listen. I knew better than to get up for a snack or even turn on the light. Truth be told, Gage had scared me ever since we were born. We never had that “twin connection” everyone talked about. It was a good thing too, for I would never in a million years want to know what went on in his mind.

                “Caroline!” I turned over in my bed. I had finally dozed off at 6. “You’re late!”

                “5 more minutes,” I told Isabelle.

                “Come on!” She started trying to drag me out of bed. “I can’t stand another minute in your house. It’s huge and empty.” I smiled a little. She’s always liked warm and cozy. It made her feel safe, she said.

                “Is Gage gone?”

                “Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “You know I would never enter your house if he were here. Anyways, get up! You’re stalling!” I got up reluctantly. Isabelle left, saying she would wait in the car. I got dressed as quickly as possible and made my way down the winding staircase and into the giant kitchen. I opened the fridge and stuck my hand into one of the big storage bins that held fruit. My hand brushed something bristly, and I grabbed it cautiously, taking it out. A scream ripped form my throat as I flung the rat tail back into the fridge and scrambled away from it, my socks finding no purchase on the wooden floor. I was breathing hard with my eyes squeezed shut. I would have been fine with a live rat, but a rat tail? Chills ran down my spine. How in the world did it even get in the refrigerator?  I could feel the walls of the empty house closing in on me. I grabbed my bag and sprinted out the door, not bothering with breakfast.

                “Drive!” I told Isabelle, trying to catch my breath. She backed out of the driveway, looking at me worriedly. “Oh my god, oh my god,” I kept muttering. Bits and pieces of animals freaked me out, especially after I saw my puppy get its leg amputated. The blood had sprayed everywhere, the result of having a trainee do the job. All the professional doctors were busy, and my parents hadn’t wanted to “waste time”. It had gotten on my face, mixing with the tears. Rover had spent the next day at the hospital, missing my 16th birthday. I already knew I was getting a car and had wanted to take him for a ride. A ride that never happened. I shook my head. It was probably my imagination. Nothing was more absurd than finding a rat tail in my fridge when there were only two people living in the house. No. It couldn’t really have happened.