Paranoid

5

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. My parents still stood outside. I tried yelling at them through the door, but they refused to listen. Their presence comforted me just a bit, but I still wanted them to leave. Them being here made me want to leave, which was bad. I had to stay here and help Denzel. I couldn't risk leaving and being thrown in a mental hospital.
“Ariel, we're going to call the police!” dad yells. I laugh. I know I sound insane, but it doesn't matter. They probably think I've lost my marbles completely. They're probably just as scared as I am, but for a different reason.
“I already tried that. They didn't listen to me,” I yell in response. The storm had begun to lighten up, so I could hear him mumble curse words on the other side of the heavy wooden door. I finally stand up and walk to the kitchen. I had nothing more to say to them; they knew I wanted them gone. If they refused to leave, that was their problem. I couldn't waste any more time.
I open the cabinet that I'd heard Denzel from. It looked like any other normal cabinet. I gently feel around the walls, praying nothing reaches out and grabs me. There could be bugs or big scaly hands or pieces of previous victims in here. I'm not entirely sure what would be worse.
In the far corner, I feel a small, rectangular hole in the wood. I draw my hand back reflexively at first, scared that something would grab me or crawl across my hand. Once it seemed like there wouldn't be anything bad, I slowly reach back out towards the hole. I felt cold, damp air coming from out of it. It was almost like a vent, except a vent in the cabinet didn't make sense. Either way, it had to lead to something. Considering most vents lead downstairs, I decide there's only one place left for me to go-- the basement. I stand back up and close the cabinet door, ready to start my adventure. This was going to be horrible.
Hands wrap around me. I scream and thrash around, trying to get myself free. I grab at the hands and realize that they're warm, and normal sized. My mother appears in front of me, tears in her eyes.
“Please calm down, Ariel. The authorities will be here soon. I never wanted to do this, but you're out of control,” she says, her voice shaking. I stop thrashing and bite my dads hand. He lets go, and I fall to the floor. Refusing to waste even another minute of time, I clamber across the kitchen floor. One of my parents nearly grab my ankle, but I shake them off and run out of the kitchen and to the basement door, which was near the stairs. I can hear my mother sobbing, but I can't feel guilty now. I have to save Denzel. Once I get him back, he can tell them all about what happened. Them they'll believe me. They'll understand that I did what I had to. I go through the basement door, locking it behind me. The stairs in front of me lead to a sea of darkness. The walls are damp, and the stench of age is strong. I feel around the wall for a light switch. My hand hits what feels like one, and I flip the switch. From the bottom of the stairs, I can see a soft glow of light. Most of the stairs, however, are still bathed in darkness.
“Denzel?” I call quietly. No answer. I wait a few more moments, hoping he'll respond. “Denzel are you down here?”
“Ariel?”
My heart jumps. “Denzel I'm coming, just stay put,” I respond, stumbling down the stairs. I can hear something sliding across the cement floor, and Denzel groans.
“Ariel you shouldn't be here...” he says. His voice is faint and rough. I hold back the tears that begin to gather in my eyes. I regret not being able to help him sooner. I shouldn't have wasted any time pitying myself or entertaining my parents.
“Neither should you. We need to get out of here,” I whisper, turning the corner. In front of me is the basement; a room that I hadn't yet seen. It's small, considering the size of average basements. Really just a cold, dark, damp cement room. In the far corner, slumped against the furnace is Denzel. I rush over to him and kneel, fumbling with the ropes that tie his hands above his head.
“Ariel you need to go,” he whispers. I look down at him. His eyes are barely open, and he's covered in cuts and bruises.
“My parents are upstairs,” I say. Once his hands are free, he jerks away from me.
“Why are they here?” he asks in a horrified tone.
“They just showed up. They're calling the police on me.”
“They need to get out of here!”
“Yeah, all of us do.”
“No you don't understand-” But he gets cut off by a loud, shrill scream. I stand up and pull him to his feet.
“Can you walk?!” I ask, already running towards the stairs. He shuffles after me, using the wall as a guide.
“I'm fine, just go help them!” he responds. I run up the stairs, casting glances behind my shoulder every few seconds to make sure he's keeping up.
The basement door is locked. I slam my entire body against it, and miraculously, it breaks open. The scene unraveling before me isn't a pretty one. The monster towers above my mother, who lies on the floor, covered in her own blood and gore. A long tongue hangs out of the mouth of the beast, and it leans close to her corpse, feeding off of her. My father stands behind it, pressed against the wall and paralyzed with fear. His eyes shift towards me, and the horror etched into his features is almost pitiful.
“Get the hell away from her!” I scream, grabbing the small table next to the basement door and launching it across the room. I'd read before that fear and stress can make a person stronger, but I'd always thought it was bull. Turns out there was some truth behind what I'd read. Either that or the side table wasn't nearly as heavy as I thought it was when I was bringing it inside.
“Ariel run!” Denzel yells. He's right behind me. The thing screeches and advances towards me, but suddenly it stops. It turns around, and I can see what made it pause- my father had thrown his shoe at it. He stands straighter, looking like the soldier he had been in the war so long ago. One of his feet were bare, but still he looked menacing.
Unfortunately, the monster was even worse than my father was. Without wasting a second, its hand shoots out and impales him right in the stomach. A choked cry utters from his throat, but nothing else. I clap my hand over my mouth, and Denzel wraps his arms around my middle. The monster grabs the bodies of both of my parents and slips into the kitchen. I run after it, Denzel holding my wrist, but it's already gone by the time I reach the opening leading into the kitchen. I fall onto my knees, my hand still pressed firmly over my mouth. Glass and pieces of wood dig into my legs, and my broken hand lies uselessly next to my side.
Funnily enough, I didn't notice either of those things. Nothing really phased me.

A/N: Still unedited. Longer chapter because, hey!, I've been wanting to write recently!
Thanks for reading ☆