Cottage on the Hill (MxMxMxMxM)

Chapter Thirteen

2:13am, Thursday October 22nd

Something shifted across the room. A figure, of sorts, with glowing eyes. I tried to get up, but my arms were tied behind me. Why are my arms tied up? I pulled at the ropes digging into my wrists, getting tighter and tighter. The figure started moving towards me into the light hanging above my head.

The same light that was in the social worker's office on the day that they died. But the furniture is gone, so it's not her office. I pulled again, but stopped and recoiled as the figure was illuminated by the light. Standing barely four feet away from me is my mother.

But not the mother I once knew and loved, one with a great gaping hole through her chest, and blood running down her face from every orifice, and grey skin littered with marks. She's not at all like I remember. Her hair is matted with blood, and the hole is bleeding heavily. I can see ribs and organs and other things I couldn't possibly name.

My own heart raced in my chest. I cried out for help. For her to help me. But she just stared at me. And the longer she stared at me, the more I felt an unease settling on my skin. Resting on my shoulders like an unnatural weight.

I can hear nothing over the thundering of blood in my head. I can feel only the cold metal of the chair, and the rope rubbing against my wrists. Something wet dripped down my hands, something warm. The thundering was replaced by a steady drip. Drip, drip, drip.The figure, who I know now is not my mother, and never was my mother, turned around and walked away.

I yelled out for her, despite knowing in the pit of my stomach that she is not who she is portraying. But she didn't turn around again, and eventually the shadows engulfed her in their embrace.

I cried out, for someone – anyone – to help me, to free me. But no one came, and eventually the drip of blood down my hands grew into a puddle so big that I had to lift my feet to stop my socks from getting wet.

I whimpered as the puddle grew, the dripping getting faster and faster, now on par with my racing heart. The room shuddered and I cried out again for the woman who is not my mother. The chair jolted and I yelled as it fell through the puddle. I shut my eyes.

Sirens and flashing lights made me snap open my eyes. Someone is yelling. Hands grabbed my shoulders, pressing me into the hot tarmac. There is crying. I pushed back against the man – the paramedic – holding me. He spoke, but I shook my head and yelled again.

"Cora!" I yelled for my sister, over and over until my voice was hoarse, and they slipped a needle into my arm to subdue me. I heard the paramedic say I could relax now, that she was safe. But I can't see her, I need to know she's safe. What if he's lying? What if he's like that woman who is not my mother?

Where is my actual mother? Why can't she help me? A weak sob left my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, writhing on the ground until the sirens were drowned out and everything went rather quiet, but only for a second.

I sat bolt upright in bed and gasped. Where am I? Someone put their hand on my back and I pulled away, panting hard. I can't breathe. I put my hands over my ears and whimpered, trembling. Sweat rolled down my body, pooling in crevices and making my skin crawl with cold.

"You're ok, it was just a nightmare." The voice pulled me against their chest and I broke into sobs, unable to slow my heart, gasping for a breath between every one. The person's fingers ran up and down my spine. "Keep breathing for me, Baby," the voice said against my head.

I gasped, almost comically, unable to fill my lungs enough to breath normal. My throat burned. "Ollie, run downstairs and get my old med kit from the office. Hale, there is an oxygen tank that should have something left in the laundry cupboard," I heard James say. I whimpered. My chest began to hurt and the room spun. Sudden dizziness washed over me, nausea followed and my stomach convulsed.