Flytrap | WATTYS 2022 SHORTLIST

11 | Thorn

Somewhere down the hall, the front door slammed shut and an eerie silence filled the house, one so unnaturally still Barbara could hear her heart pounding against her ribcage. Gazing out the misted window, she watched as her dad put the car into reverse before pulling out onto the street and driving off into the quickly fading night.

The house was empty now. No one but her and Pamela remained.

She tore her bloodshot eyes from the window and glanced down at her hand, holding her breath as she listened for even the slightest sound from Pamela. But the silence persisted, only interrupted by the occasional raindrop hitting the side of the house.

It was time.

Barbara started for the door, her movements slow and deliberate as she turned her wheels only a fraction of a rotation. It felt like an eternity before she reached the door. Even longer before she could pry the doorknob open.

Without so much as a groan, the door swung open, and Barbara could finally release the deep breath she had been holding. As she lingered in the doorway, she peered down the empty hallway and froze. Just a few feet ahead was Pamela's door, slightly ajar. Barbara blinked, thinking perhaps the shadows or lack of sleep were playing tricks on her. But no. There was a gap in-between the door and its frame.

Was Pamela awake? Had the sound of her father leaving woken her up? It hadn't before, so why now? Of all times?

Cursing under her breath, Barbara thought about retreating into her room-back into safety and logic. This plan had been ridiculous from the start. How could she not have realized that sooner when she stayed up all night, pondering about what to do?

Because she was an idiot. A gullible idiot who believed Richard when he reassured her she could do this. She could almost hear his soft, gentle voice beside her, telling her that she and her dad would never be safe as long as Pamela was around.

His words had been so soothing, his eyes filled with such sincerity it was hard not to believe him. The way he gazed at her with his eyes of sapphire made her feel like she could do just about anything, including the unthinkable.

She could still recall the prickling sensation when his hand met hers. Although his touch was made of ice, it felt like a bolt of lightning shot through her skin and into her veins. It was a feeling no guy had ever awakened in her.

But now was not the time for that. She needed to focus. Pushing the memory out of her mind, Barbara frowned at the continued silence. She had been here for what? A few minutes? And she hadn't heard a peep from the other room or from anywhere in the house. The hallway had been as quiet as ever.

She didn't know what compelled her to move forward, but Barbara soon found herself slowly rolling towards the adjacent door. With each turn her tires made, she bit down on her lip, awaiting the inevitable squeak of rubber on wood that never came.

Despite the late autumn air chilling her to the bone, beads of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck and along her spine. The room was right across the hall, but getting to the other side took several agonizing minutes. By the time she came to the door, her breathing had become short and labored, as if she had just run a marathon.

With the tips of her fingers, Barbara pushed the door back and peered inside. She hadn't been in this room since Pamela moved in, but she could already imagine what the inside must look like if her room was any indication. Almost immediately, she caught a whiff of a flowery scent as it tickled her nostrils with its sweet, overwhelming aroma.

Holding back a sneeze, Barbara scrunched her nose and continued into the room, keeping her eyes fixated on the bed. Even in the inky darkness, she could make out the edges of its rectangular shape. But as she drew closer, she saw that its surface was flat and the covers perfectly in place.