Devil's Game

Chapter 3

Darkest Night

           I woke up to find myself home. Honestly, I didn't remember how I got there. I only remembered falling asleep, waking up, and being in my bedroom. I had experienced so much, the craziness was starting to merge with reality. Maybe I was the one that was crazy.

           I sat up, and rolled the white sheets off my legs. The cold air stung, but I got up anyways. I looked into bedside mirror, placing my hands on top of the white table. Same old, shy, invisible Emma, the one who was never noticed by anyone.

           My long, dark brown hair covered the majority of my slightly tanned face. I tried brushing the rebellious hair behind my ears. Alas, it bounced back. Sighing, I shrugged it off.

           I turned around and opened the wooden door, trudging down the stairs. My mother was waiting for me in the living room. She anxiously tapped her ballpoint pen against the wooden table. She stopped when she saw me.

           The air was still. I wanted to run back to my room and slam the door shut. Did my mom know what was happening? What would she say? Would I have to get a therapist? Everyone would think I was crazy if I did. Once again, that word, crazy. Maybe I was, indeed, crazy.

           I winced as she gestured for me to come over.

"Emma, hon," she said as she looked up from her paper, her glasses wobbling to the side. "Why were you late?"

           Sighing, I walked over to her and sat down. I wasn't scared of the dark room anymore. I wanted to go back. The boy made me curious. I didn't care that I almost died....again. I couldn't tell my mom. She would think her daughter was having visions, or somehow prevent me from going again. I didn't want that.

           "I, um, had to finish some school work," I lied, fidgeting with my zipper underneath the table. My voice cracked. "T-t-the teacher held me back after school" 

My mom suspiciously raised a brow at me.

           "Emma," she began. "I talked to your teacher, and she said you weren't there after school. In fact, you missed your last class. I looked all over school for you. Even checked the security cameras. You know what I saw?"

           I shifted in my seat. My mom made me nervous. I wondered how much or how little she knew. I choked on my words.

           "N-no. What did you see?"

My mom leaned back in her chair, something she rarely did.

           "Nothing. You weren't on school campus. I even called your uncle. Emma Smith, where were you? I'm being serious."

           I sighed with relief. At least she didn't know everything. I stared at the clock hanging over the fridge next to the lights. I stared at the grey stove, flames licking the rim of a pot. I stared at the floor, white, grey and marbled. My mind was blank. I couldn't lie, but I had to. I stopped fidgeting. I didn't want her to know. Why didn't she, though?

           "I was here the whole time" I said. "Sleeping"

            I pointed to my room. My mom sighed and crossed her legs. I knew she could tell I was lying.

           "Alright" she responded reluctantly. "Remember, tomorrow you're uncle is coming over for dinner. You better clean up later."

           I nodded and got up from the wooden chair, walking up the stairs. I figured my room was already clean enough.

           I could feel my mom staring at me as I went up. She didn't know the half of it. I was scared of what might happen. I open the door at the top of the stairs and stepped into my room.

          Instinctively grabbing my black backpack from behind the door, I yanked my math textbook out of it and jumped onto my bed, though I had no idea how I knew my bag was there.

           That night, I wondered about my mom, and what she was thinking in that stuffy room of hers. I wondered if Clarice knew I got hit. I wondered who the boy was, and why he looked so familiar. The cold, nighttime air allowed me to think. I recapped what had happened.

           I got hit by a car. I thought. I'm not dead.

          I wondered who hit me. I wondered if anyone knew, and if the person who hit me remembered or knew that they had. I was scared, frightened, yet not of the boy. I loved the darkness, even though this inner instinct told me to not trust it. It made me feel special, yet I wasn't. It made me feel like someone. I reveled in the power of this 'Devil', yet I was still scared.

           I could hear the wolves cry in the distance. My room smelled like candy. My mom had bought me dozens of candles to put in my room. She said it would help me concentrate, but being the over protective mom she was, she didn't let me light them.

          The carpet in my room was light blue and fuzzy, and the walls were white. Most of my furniture was a warm, wooden tone, except for my desk and closet, which were painted white.

          I rolled over to my left side and faced the window. I could spot so many stars spread across the vast, midnight sky. The valley of apartments dipped down across the country. The full moon was bright as it shone through the window and into my room.

           I wondered if I knew the boy, if I had seen him before, for I felt comfortable around him. Perhaps I was dreaming when I saw him. I doubted reality. I doubted my safety, all the hugs and kisses I got from my mother. I just wanted to go back to the dark room.

           The green, light up clock on the wall read 11:53pm. My dad had given it to me when I was about two years old, before he passed away. At least that what my mom told me. For some reason, I had always thought he had died another way. Someway.....darker.

           I thought of the boy. He appeared scary, but I saw him differently. I was nervous about school tomorrow. Would Clarice know anything? Would anyone know anything?

           I was getting uncomfortably warm, so I uncovered myself from the sheets. I noticed a red scar on my belly. It looked old, but it wasn't painful. I guessed it was from only a few hours ago, when I got hit by the car. There was a red, horizontal line across across my stomach. I didn't really think much about it, and didn't really care. It wasn't my main priority. Now that I think about it, nothing was my main priority. 

           I hoped nobody would notice at school as I covered it with my shirt and closed my eyes.

Eventually I could no longer evade sleep, as darkness covered me like a soft blanket and I closed my eyes.