The Unknown

Chapter 5

        Martha came back every day after that, with and without people. Something about her made me feel safe, but oddly horrified by her at the same time. She knew this home inside and out. I followed closely behind her, but hidden, exploring all of the rooms, further than I had looked into. She somehow knew as if I was lingering closely near her, I always caught her smiling when her back wasn't turned towards me. 

        "Hello sweetie," Martha said with her back towards me. I shrunk back behind the door frame, out of sight. I tip toed away from her, trying to make minimal sounds with the creaking floor. I stood next to the door frame, with my back against the wall. The cool feeling of the wallpaper seeped through my shirt and onto my skin, sending chills throughout my body.

        I stumbled and tripped over a threadbare rug in the hallway to move into the next room. She immediately turned around the corner and smiled, but she didn't make eye contact with me. It seemed that she saw through me as if I wasn't there. Yet she was facing in my general direction.

        "I know you're here, no need to hide," Martha said, softly. My throat felt too hoarse to make a sound or to say anything to let her know my location. I got up on my hands and knees, crawling into the kitchen to get away from her. 

        The handle still lured me. It coaxed me to it. I needed to be near it. Something about it made me want to know beyond it. If and where it led to. It didn't seem as if there was a door at all. Just the handle. I sat against the wall with ear pressed against it. Trying to hear anything possible. 

        Silence.

        The front door slammed and Martha left, but her musky perfume lingered behind.

        I was alone again. Glancing around the kitchen, it had a strange presence to it. As if I feared to be in it, but I enjoyed it. 

        I sat on the cool tile floor with my knees drawn to my chest, trying to remember before the house. My thoughts searched and found nothing. Same answers as before. My body urged to get up from the ground. I had to leave the kitchen immediately. I stood up, using the wall to help my balance. I left my legs to the walking and my mind in control. The wooden stairs greeted my toes. The balls of my feet continued to only stay on the stairs. My heels did not touch the splintery surface. 

        The carpet felt relaxing and comforting in between my toes and bottom of my feet. Every step I took, it tickled the bottom of my feet. I some how floated to standing in front of the mirror. Staring at my reflection and noticing features that were a blur before. A scarred marking of being scratched on my right cheek. A small scar on my near my left collar bone. Scars of being cut on my arms. My fingers ran over the scar tissue. 

        Then the only thing that went through my head was a knife. A large knife. A scream developed in my throat and it startled me, causing me stumble backwards and onto the bed. Dust enveloped in tiny spirals around me. The sheets were soft with the smell of mildew and an elder lady's perfume. The scent sickened me, but the sheets were comforting. I ran my fingers across the deteriorating silk. Something in me felt that this was forbidden to do. That this was a sin and I was going to be brutaly punished for doing such a thing.

        I pushed myself up and backed away from the bed. The silence of the house lingered with the recently stirred up dust. It was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and voices following. I knew Martha was back, and she had brought new comers.

        I walked slowly down the steps trying to be in view of the new people who came in. I was terrified to talk to them, feeling I wouldn't get any help from anyone. The only encounter I made with people startled me and I feared to be around others. The longing for speaking up was always there, but my mouth conflicted with my thoughts and declined every chance I got. It tranquilized me when I felt that I was invisible and undetected.