These Broken Souls | COMING SOON

Part I: 4

four

RAYN

Bloodshot eyes. I stare into eyes that can only belong to a corpse of someone who died a violent death. His skin is pasty, lifeless and it hangs over his pale face; his protruding bones threatening to tear through it. Wrinkles are scattered over his forehead and around his nose – pinching his skin tightly together. But it’s the hungry vicious look in his eyes that make his face look so alien. His lips are shrivelled, parted in two and they’re moving as he speaks. No, he’s howling, screaming. Livid.
And this is really happening. I’m staring at a face that chills my skin to the bone. And he’s staring right back.

He’s pressed his face against the window. “Open the door! Please, I won’t hurt you.” His voice is muffled, but it’s low and rumbles through the glass.

My heart pounds so loud in my ears, I fear it might shatter the glass. Who is he and what does he want? My brother’s iron fist grip only gets tighter on my hand with each moment while I am paralysed by fear. The man lifts his hand up and twists his wrist, aggressively demonstrating the motion of pushing down a door handle to open it. Suddenly, Zack’s chest is heaving as he gasps loudly in a panic, but his attention is on his phone again, his thumb desperately tapping on the screen.

“Don’t you dare! Put that phone down now, and open this damn door.” The man grabs the door handle this time and rattles it, pulling and pulling – it’s a miracle the lock doesn’t give in. And then he begins to pace. Back and forth, his hands on his bald head, he paces like he’s in a state of misery, as if he’s lost everything. His frantic movements then take him towards the door again, except this time he rams into with his shoulder. Again and again.

“Open the door, you little fuckers! Don’t make me break in, because when I do, I’ll fucking kill you – both of you! We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” His voice then becomes a low, sinister growl, emphasising the venom of each word. “And if you dare call the cops, I will rip your throats out. Do you understand? I said, do you understand?!” He shouts, and pounds his fist onto the glass panel of the door.
Helpless, both Zack and I nod. “Good.” The man smiles. And it drips with malice. He nods at us approvingly, eyes squinting.

This time there’s an eerie calmness in his voice, but the threatening look in his eyes remains. “Put the phone down. Put it away.”
Zack’s hands tremble slightly, as he does as he’s told, sliding his phone down onto the worktop. “Now come closer, towards me. Stand in front of the door.” His voice is robotic, demanding.

And this is what must make Zack freeze solid, his muscles rigid and stiff. He looks down at me, gives my clammy hand a final squeeze before letting go. But his eyes are distant, flickering around in a hazy panic, searching mine helplessly.
“Don’t!” I whisper, resisting the urge to shake my head. To shake the nightmare out of my head as if this wasn’t at all happening. But it is.

Zack looks away, swallowing down his nerves before shifting his gaze to the door. He walks towards it, and it all happens agonisingly slow. Soon, he’s face-to-face with the man, only kept apart by the door. And that’s when the man reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a penknife.

“If you do as you’re told, I won’t hurt you. I promise you that.” He then drags the blade and slashes across the surface of the window, leaving a scratch mark stretched out in a long horizontal line.

My eyes bulge at the sight of it and my head spins. My lungs feel weak, like they’ll collapse with the next breath I take. But no matter how fragile my muscles get, they don’t give in and I’m still standing. Still living through the nightmare, even when the man’s eyes suddenly lock onto mine, when he speaks.

“If you want to be seen alive, unlock the door. And let me in.”