Under the protection of her bedroom, Lisa scans the dark walls and corners. Slowly, not risking the chance that her eyes pass over anything camouflaging itself with the dark.
She lets out a sigh of relief just as a creak sounds above her. Suddenly, she's aware of the ragged breathing down her neck. Lisa's heart beat quickens, a pounding echo impossibly and dreadfully loud. She raises her head, letting her eyes roll up to see where the noise came from.
To her alarm, her gaze meets air. Stifling, hot air despite the immense space of the room.
Its eyes snap open as the creature jumps on Lisa and slices her neck open with a quick swipe of a long, bloody talon.
I scream as the popcorn in my lap flies into the air. Mark laughs and shuts off the screen, making a pool of Lisa's spilled and drizzling blood fade to black.
"Oh, come on," Mark says, still laughing. "It wasn't that scary."
"No, it was gruesome. Why would you make me watch that?"
"People don't throw popcorn three feet in the air because something was gruesome," he retorts.
"You're picking that up," I pout.
With that, I frown and head to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water to wash down the popcorn.
Mark begins to sweep up the mess with a pan and broom as I slump onto the couch with the remote in hand.
"Next movie's Twilight. My pick," I say.
"Sorry, love, but I've got to head home. Ma gets worried if I'm out too late," Mark replies.
"We only watched one movie! That woman has no trust in you."
"I'll text you, I swear," Mark reassures.
With that, he dumps the popcorn in the trash, grabs his jacket off the counter, and walks over to me, hugging me. He pulls away to hold me at arm's length and lays a small peck on my lips.
"Goodnight, Rosie."
I smile up at him and stare into those chocolate brown eyes.
"Goodnight, Mark."
He heads out the door with me following him to the porch. I watch him drive away and wave to me while doing so. I wait a moment longer before making my way back inside.
My parents are on vacation for their anniversary, leaving me alone to deal with my boredom for a couple of nights. Ever since Violet successfully overdosed the prescription for my insomnia, it's been quiet around here.
A couple months back, my little sister committed suicide in the bathroom we shared upstairs. I wasn't there for her as per usual, too busy at a competition for cheerleading that was four hours away. As for my parents? They were out of the state for a meeting discussing the opening of their new business. We hired Mark to stay there and watch Violet but apparently she had asked to use the bathroom and never came out. You can only imagine the heartbreak and horror we had when we received a phone call telling us what happened.
The thing is that up until that point, she never seemed depressed. Violet was a very pretty 13 year old girl, who was very involved in school with good grades and great friends. She never seemed sad, nor did she ever spend a lot of time to herself. It just never added up. Why would she kill herself? The only reason I can think of is because she had diabetes. But it's not like she ever let that stop her from accomplishing anything.
I let loose a sigh and sludge to my parents' bedroom. Tonight I will sleep like royalty in their padded queen bed.
Checking my phone, I observe the time. 00:32. Man, it is late. I wouldn't have trusted Mark this late either. Especially with me.
Involuntarily, I yawn. I didn't realize how tired I am.
I pull the sheets down on the bed and crawl in, warming my frosty toes. I close my tired and dry eyes and let my mind wander into the hypnotic tug of sleep.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
If I hadn't have been half awake, I wouldn't have heard the faint knocking on the front door. I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to get up. Willing whoever it is to just go away.
*KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.*
Harder this time. Urgent.
I climb out of bed reluctantly, knowing that it'd be rude to just ignore the person at the door. Maybe its someone who's lost and just needs some help? Sure is late to need help right now...
As I trudge to the door, I notice through the window that the motion sensor lights aren't on. Weird. Maybe the bulb just needs to be replaced.
I grasp the handle and snatch my hand away as visible electricity shoots out at my hand. Dang. That actually hurt!
I reach my hand back out again, tentatively. This time, there's no shock but a shiver works it way down my spine as the handle is at least ten degrees colder than the room temperature of the house.
I shake off my shock and thrust the heavy door open... to find nothing there.
Paranoid from the movie earlier, I reach my arm to the side where Mark left the broom, not letting my eyes off the night air in front of me, and jab at nothing with the dull end of the broom.
There's nothing there. Nothing.
YOU ARE READING
The Blood On My Hands
Horror"'I believe you when you say you didn't mean to. And I believe you when you say you're sorry. But I can't forgive you.'"
