Monique

Pranks

John has a habit of pulling pranks. Take for instance her eighth birthday. He took her to the forest and left her alone for the entire night. She told him she could have died. She could have passed out from hypothermia. She could have been eaten by a Dingo. She could have been bitten by a Tiger Snake. She may have been swallowed whole by a Python. She could have been raped and murdered by a psychopath.

John only smiled and said, "But it didn't happen. You're still alive."

Monique shivers and wraps the blanket tighter around her frame. She can feel the small tingles rising in her toes. It's been eight years; eight years since she's been here. There's no way she could ever forget this place: the way the leaves rustled at night, the luminous glow of the crescent moon, the eeriness of the woods. She can never forget that.

It didn't take her long to find this place. No. She still remembers how she got here.

Her parents were working. Her babysitter had fallen asleep on the couch. Monique was bored out of her mind. She had received the newest Barbie doll and a new monopoly set. Not that she wanted them. She told her parents she wanted books by Roald Dahl. Of course they didn't listen. They never listened. John decided to put an end to her misery after beating her once again at a game of chess. He led her out of the house. The babysitter was too out of it to even notice the door slam behind her. The cold air bit Monique's face as they made their way past the houses, the street, the bus stop and their little haven.

At first she was scared.

She was fucking scared.

To make things worse, she had gone against her parents' wishes and watched Wolf Creek the night before. She almost wet her pants five times. John called her a pansy.

John placed her in the deep in the forest before suddenly disappearing. He left her there for the entire night. Emergency crews found her in the morning half frozen suffering from dehydration, shock and hypothermia. Her babysitter was fired and Monique was stuck in a hospital room that smelled strongly of bleach and other cleaning chemicals.

John had laughed and told her it was a test and she passed.

Not many people had passed his test.

Monique shivers again. She licks her lips and soon regrets it. It tingles as another gust of wind blows. She prays she doesn't get frostbite on her lips. Cracks and cuts will be fine. She can handle that.

The sounds of leaves crunching behind her, catches her attention. She turns, not knowing what to expect. She prays it's John. Words can't describe how much she wants to see him. She needs him. She needs to understand what is going on. Her hands are still sore from clawing at the walls at night. She has cuts on her arm from breaking her mirror.

"Hello sweetie." Bile rises in her throat as his offending cologne hits her nose like a blow: a mixture of sweat and excreta. She slowly turns to look at him. She bolts up straight like she's on a bed of flames. "Scared of me are ya?" Monique starts to back away. Her heart beats erratically. She can feel it lodge in her trachea. She wants to vomit. Her eyes sting from trying to hold it down.

"Who are you?"

His lips turn into a sadistic smile. His face is burned. He doesn't have any eyes. Bits of burnt skin hang from his face.

Monique turns to run. Too late. He lunges at her and throws her to the floor laughing as if he's watching a comedy. Monique stands up once more and tries to run but he grabs her by the neck, his hands restricting the airflow to her system. She can feel her windpipe being crushed.

She curses John.

She curses Jimmy Timms.

She wishes Goof was here.

She wishes she could take some Blood Red.

She wants to die. He forces her to the floor. She takes a quick gasp of air. Her lungs are burning. Her mouth tastes like acid.

He yanks her by the hair, "Save us." His voice isn't distinct. It's hundreds of voices blending together like a mixed tape. Monique is frozen to the core. There's nothing she can do. She looks at his mutilated skin. He's going to kill her.

He's going to kill her.

He suddenly roars. His grip loosens. His hands disappear. He crumbles to dust beneath her feet.

Monique rolls over inhaling quick intakes of air into her failing system. Her head feels heavy as blood flow returns. Her throat feels tight. Constricted. But she's alive.

"I told you not to come after me." John stands beside a tree. He doesn't look pissed. He looks hurt. Monique doesn't know whether to scream or cry. She's angry. She's confused.

She needs Blood Red.

"What's going on John?" She asks. "Tell me!" She shrieks when he doesn't reply. John sighs. He's about to say something when his face contours in pain. He begins to scream as mangled arms take a hold of him, tearing him apart limb by limb until all that's left is a bloody heap on the forest floor.

"Save us."

Monique turns around and runs.

She doesn't remember tripping over slippery leaves or fallen logs. She doesn't remember running into trees or even the heavy raindrops that seep though her clothing.

She pushes the key into the front door of the house and runs inside, slamming it behind her.

"Save us."

She looks around. The room is spinning. "Leave me alone."

"Save us. Save us." The voices are coming from the basement. She's about walking away when she hears John and Jimmy scream her name.

She doesn't think. Her mother's warnings about the basement are lost within the walls of her paranoia. She's a schizophrenic, just like the shrink told her.

She's insane.

She needs her pills.

She needs John.

John. John. She needs him. She wants her dollhouse back.

Monique grabs a knife from the bench and heads to the basement door.

"Save us. Save us." Their voices are getting louder and louder. John's screams penetrate info her brain like a chainsaw. She opens the door, surprised that it's unlocked. She slowly begins her descent down the stairs.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight-

She hears a roar behind her and turns around. She slowly makes out the image of her father darting towards her like a raging lion. Monique rushes down the stairs screaming. She trips. The knife slides out of her hand like butter. The last thing she sees are freezers, and a chainsaw and butcher knives on a wooden table before darkness elopes her like a friend.

Whenever Monique asked her mother why her dad could go into the basement, her mother would always say, "The monsters can't get to your daddy, sweetie."