The Bottom of the Sea

Part 31: Reckoning

Seven o'clock came and went. Then eight. I'd been texting Jake all night, and I could tell he saw each one of them, but he was ignoring me. Finally, when I asked if he was OK, I finally got a reply back. "Ran into a friend in Halifax. Raincheck?"

After the build-up for this fancy dinner, it was a strange reply.

It was past eight and I was starved. I decided to get off the couch and fix myself a sub-par dinner. "Friggin Jake," I muttered, checking the cupboards for something easy to cook. I heated up some soup and ate it straight from the pot, looking out the kitchen window above the sink. The whole thing was weird, but I decided not to dwell on it. An early bedtime wasn't the worst way to spend the evening.

The upstairs was freezing. Jake's friend was swamped and not able to fix my bedroom window — there was still just a tarp covering it and at nighttime the whole upstairs was as cold as a meat freezer. I'd be paying a fortune in heating bills that month.

I washed my face and just rinsed the soap out of my eyes when I heard a faint pop and the lights went out. My head fell back and I sighed in disbelief. Just what I needed: a power outage.

I cursed under my breath, feeling around for the bathroom door. The whole house was enveloped in darkness. It had never been this dark; over the past months I'd gotten used to sleeping with at least some of the lights on.

A new feeling crept over me in addition to the sadness and anger. Now, I was creeped out.

I carefully felt my way to the stairs. I thought about staying on the second floor, going to bed, pulling the covers over my head and sleeping until daylight. But I didn't have enough to eat — my belly was stabbed with hunger pains. I knew if I didn't have something more substantial, I'd be up all night with an upset stomach. The only time I felt sick at this stage of the pregnancy was when I missed a meal. Plus, I'd need a flashlight to get to the bathroom and they were all downstairs.

Shit. Every horror movie cliché raced through my mind. I felt gingerly with my foot until I found the edge of the top step and I carefully set it down, waiting for something to jump out at me. Stop it, Sara.

At this rate, it was going to take me forever to get down the stairs. I clutched the railing, terrified I'd fall and hurt the baby and once again cursed the unlucky star I was born under, or the mirrors I must have smashed in another life.

I was supposed to be having an elegant meal with my friend, instead I was cursing alone in the dark and trying not to fall over the stairs.

I was a third of the way down when I heard it. The deep silence was pierced by a high-pitched jabbering sound. All the hair stood up on my arms and the back of my neck. Oh, no. Not tonight.

At first, I thought the TV came on downstairs, and I was hearing some kind of nature show. When I realized that the sound was giggling, I had to clench my shaking legs together so I wouldn't lose control of my bladder.

I had to hurry, but I couldn't see a thing. I gripped the railing tighter and slid my foot forward until it found the step below, over and over again, being as careful as I could while trying not to scream. I heard a door open from above and footsteps behind me, slow creaks. I resisted the urge to run blindly or throw myself over the railing just to get away from it.

Slow and steady, I reminded myself. It's not real, it's just a shadow or a ghost, either one can't hurt. I tried to be logical, but my body was acting on its own, forcing me to go faster and faster. I didn't realize I'd made it to the bottom until I tried to step down, rolled my ankle and stumbled forward, barely catching myself before I hit the floor. By then, all the windows started rattling then like they were about to explode. I made my way to the kitchen not daring to look behind me. I worried that if I saw whatever was behind me, I'd lose what was left of my mind.

Every step made my ankle throb, and I could feel it already starting to swell. The house was quiet for a moment, then the kitchen door flung open. I know that door was locked; it was always locked. I put the horror of that happening aside, grateful for the sliver of moonlight. I hobbled to the kitchen drawers and pulled them open one by one until I grabbed a flashlight in one hand and a butcher knife in the other. I flashed the light wildly around the kitchen, screaming. "What do you want? Get out of my house!" I began sobbing like my heart would break. None of this was fair. I was a good person; I didn't deserve any of it.

The fridge rattled and shook until the door popped open and one by one jars began to fall out and smash on the floor. Jam and beets that looked like blood and tissue seeped slowly across the tile.

"Stop it!" I whirled, swinging the light. I'd had it with the house. The giggling from upstairs started again, morphing had into shrieks; a sound so wrong it dissolved my anger like acid. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook from head to toe. When my bladder let go, I started pleading.

"Please go away. GET OUT!" The cupboard doors began to open and shut violently again, and I backed myself into a corner and made myself as small as I could. The house was furious and using everything in its power to get me to go. If I could make it to the back door, I'd get in the car and go with the clothes on my back; drive until I ran out of gas. You won, I whispered.

That's when I saw it emerge from the dark. It wasn't the shadow man. It wasn't the ghost in the window. It was much more terrifying, made of flesh and bone and staring right at me.

Shane was almost unrecognizable; gaunt and haunted looking, with a mangled eye that made the entire left side of his face a ruin. I could smell him from across the room, he smelled of dirt and sour decay. I wanted to believe it wasn't blood that drenched his shirt and pants but somehow, I knew that it was. His hair was standing on end, it looked like parts of it were torn out of the scalp.

But that smirk; the one that said he was just beginning to enjoy himself. I'd know that grin anywhere, and it was more dangerous than anything in that house.

"But we're having so much fun, Sara. And we're just getting started."