Eyes Like Hellfire [Completed]

Chapter 6

I looked up at the house, the terror diffusing into determination. This was my friend, this was someone who was important to me, and I wasn't about to lose her to some thing that crawled its way up from hell and into her body.

I rested my hand on the door knob, taking one last deep breath. I twisted it right, then left, letting the cold sink into my skin, my final moment of hesitation.

Come on, Mickey. Do it for Zoe.

And with that, I threw the door open. I peered inside, not daring to go beyond the door frame just yet. I poked my head in, looking side to side for any signs of something unordinary or sinister. I, luckily, came up empty. The chairs were chairs, there was the same old dusty red carpet, the portrait was still creepy and freaking me out, eyes seemingly following me wherever I went, and, most importantly, there were no ghosts or demons in sight. Yet.

I walked in carefully, trying to be on full alert when my mind was clouded with worry. I scanned the room once more, looking up the staircase. The middle door was wide open, exactly the way we left it. And with that, my mind flashed with the memory.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was clutching onto Zoe's arm for dear life, probably bruising it with how hard my fingers pressed into her skin. I screamed, seeing the woman from my nightmares standing in front of me. My gaze was glued to her eye sockets, the blackness swallowing me whole. But after a moment, the blackness faded into a scene. A forest.

My eyes were met with a vision, the trees running past, each branch blurring into the other. The claws of the trees scratched my arms, leaving scars and streams of red to litter the pale white skin, as if the black and purple bruises weren't enough to obscure the flesh. My feet were bare, the debris of the ground sinking into the soles, embedding themselves into the folds of my being.

And it was cold. It was so cold. My breath danced in front of me, taunting me, showing me how every sliver of heat was leaving my body. The chill felt like it was freezing my blood in place, seeping through every pore. The wind cut my bare arms and whistled through the veins of the hearts of the forest, whispering to me.

"You'll never outrun him. Faster, faster. He'll be here soon enough."

Him?

And that was when I noticed just exactly what I was running from. I looked back, seeing a man chasing me, a twisted smile on his face, as if he was enjoying the hunt. His face was handsome, sharp features, pale lips, gray eyes, shaggy black hair. A young man with a young body, which was partially hidden under an unbuttoned brown trench coat. He looked like he would belong with the privileged boys of the 1920s. But looks can be deceiving, because the murderous look in his eyes reminded me of a predator eying his prey. Dangerous and unwavering.

"Come on, Annabelle, you know running is useless. I just want to talk to you."

His voice was colder than the air itself, but had the persuasion power of a serpent. It dripped with venom, his smile knowing, showing he was about to strike. And that just terrified me more.

But wait.

Annabelle?

And with that, I fell to the ground, the root of a tree being my undoing. My fist struck the ground once, warm tears rolling down my face, one by one turning into a river. I didn't try to get up, my body failing in defeat.