Broken

Chapter VIII

As I stand and stare between my fingers, the candle sits innocently on the counter top. I know there is something sinister about this candle.

I sidestep away, keeping the candle in my sight, when I hear a crunch. I take my hands away from my face and place them at my sides. I slowly tilt my head down, now with my eyes shut, and lift my foot. When I open my eyes again, I first see my dingy, stained, black converse high-tops. So far, so normal. When I got a glimpse of what was underneathe my heel, I couldn't believe my eyes. That was not there a moment ago... There were pieces, little jagged pieces, of glass. I try to absorb all of the glass, the candle, the phone screen, but I can't.

I hear a shatter from a distant bedroom. Probably the guest bedroom. My curiosity leading the way, I follow it to the source of the shattering noise. I glide silently, and slowly, across the gray shag carpet, evading the dark shadows of furniture in the dimly lit living room. An unoccupied couch, a coffee table with an empty flower vase, a love seat with no one to sit, a side table with an unlit lamp. This room feels darker than normal.

As I pass the mirror before the door frame to the hallway, I pause, but I abstain from looking at my reflection.

I keep walking.

I turn to my left, where my parents bedroom lies behind a closed door, when suddenly I turn to my right as I hear the shatter again. Only the dummies in horror movies go after the sound. Now I know why.

The curiosity is overwhelming. This is my house. I'll get to the bottom of this. I hope.

I take another step into the darkness, and another, until I am close enough to rest my hand on the silver doorknob. I clench my teeth, and begin to open the door.