Sadie's Nightmare

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Bump In The Night

Steven had never said it out loud before, he didn't want it to be true. But, it didn't matter now. Patricia and the shame she'd brought on herself were nothing but a pile of cold flesh on the floor.

He'd never stopped loving his wife and had even convinced himself that he would treat the child as his own. There was still a hope for the future.

But now that future was cold and coagulating on the carpet in the bedroom they'd once shared.

"Steven?"

Janssen's voice brought Steven back to reality. He'd been staring at the drain on the bathroom floor, lost in his thoughts.

Sloan was still glaring at Steven with narrow eyes and a frown so intense that, if it were a physical force, it could have crushed boulders.

The sound of rolling thunder grumbled outside. A storm was approaching. Dark clouds started to gather, shielding a setting sun, causing a rather gloomy atmosphere.

Sloan looked to Janssen and said, "Take Steven downstairs."

As Janssen and Steven started to step towards the staircase, Sloan grabbed his partners shoulder and brought him in close. "Keep an eye on him." Sloan whispered.

Janssen's brows pulled together and he made a face. But he nodded to his partner all the same.

Just as Steven and Janssen-close behind him-reached the top of the stairs, there was a thud. The three men are startled and turn to the direction of the thud. The sound came from Patricia's room.

"What was that?" Asked Sloan.

Janssen looked to Steven. He shrugged and shook his head. The corners of his mouth curved downward and his brow knotted in the middle. A thought had crossed his mind. "We have a cat." Steven suggested, but before he could continue, there was a second bump.

The officers were on alert. "Wait here." Janssen told Steven. He then moved over to his partner and they shared a look.

Sloan was in front, he stepped slowly and carefully into the bedroom. It was eerily dark in the room. The smell of death and carrion on the cold, stale air sent a chill up his spine. His palms began to sweat. Something was different. Not that he could put his finger on what that was, but he could feel it.

The two officers navigate around the chunks of Patricia about the floor. Janssen can barely bring himself to look at the remains, not after what he'd found. Then another thud.

Their attention was drawn to the wardrobe. Janssen was closest so he took the lead. He had to partially close the bedroom door in order to get to the wardrobe door behind it. After a quick glance over his shoulder to his partner, Janssen placed his hand gently on the door handle and opened the left-side of the wardrobe.

Nothing. Janssen let out a sigh of relief and swallowed, forcing his saliva to moisten his dry throat. The sinister atmosphere had not cleared yet and he still had the second door to open.

He slowly stretched out his hand toward the handle of the right-side door of the wardrobe. But just before he touched the wooden handle, something swiped at his hand in the blink of an eye.

Janssen hissed and snatched his hand away.

"What happened? What is it?" Sloan asked, barely more than a whisper.

Janssen held his hand out in front. Blood glistened on the back of his hand, reflecting what little light there was left coming through the blinds above Patricia's bed. "Something cut me." He replied.

"The cat?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Janssen looked into the darkness of the open side of the wardrobe. He looked hard. Trying to make out any shapes. Possibly ones that looked like a cat.

Suddenly, the room had become enveloped by darkness. Thunder rumbled loudly, and rain started to tap at the window. Little by little at first, but in no time a fierce wind had arrived and turned the rain into a violent barrage.

Janssen's hand was stinging, he pulled a face and looked down at it.

"Get back!" Sloan had unexpectedly shouted.

The other door of the wardrobe had begun to creep open.

Janssen hastily tried to shuffle away from the wardrobe but was stopped when he beheld something gleaming in the dark. The tiniest amount of light coming through the window from a distant streetlamp was all that was needed for the men to see the shine off the two huge eyes peering out at them.

The eyes were unblinking and even over the sound of the storm outside, they could hear the creature scenting the air.

Its head twisted, and it looked to Janssen.

No.

Janssen's bloodied hand.