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THE HOUSE IS DEADLY silent.
Well. This part of the house is. Faint tendrils of yelling filter through the vents from the attic, but if I think loud enough, I can’t hear them. Sometimes I enjoy hearing them. I don’t know if that makes me a psychopath.
With my breeding, I suppose it was inevitable.
How many serial killers had fucked up childhoods? Probably more often than not. I’d fit the profile perfectly. Girl grows up in the slums, crackhead mother, absent no-name father, and raped by men which eventually led to a life of prostitution.
But I got out, didn’t I? Doesn’t that count for something? Even if I did turn into a murderer. Or I will soon enough at least.
A knock on the door seizes my heart. I tuck myself deep into the shadows, staring at the silhouette of a person standing outside the door.
I’m not expecting anyone. No one should be knocking on that door.
Another light knock taunts me. My rabid thoughts lead me down the rabbit hole. What if its Ryan’s work, looking for him? No, no. It’s Saturday. He’s only been in the attic since last night. Monday, though. What will I do Monday? Ryan won’t show up. His dad will wonder, call him probably. Ryan won’t answer, and then his father will come looking. How the hell am I supposed to look Matt in his face and lie to him? Guess I should’ve thought about that before I got myself into this clusterfuck.
Another knock pulls me away from that train of thought.
Is it the police? Did Ryan get ahold of a phone? No… I hid is phone in our bedroom already. Couldn’t be that. Just a minute ago, I checked on him, making sure his body was securely hung up around the wooden beam and the knots around his wrists were still tight. He didn’t escape, and I’m confident no one can hear him yelling. We live in a mansion for god’s sake, and the attic isn’t even located on the side of the house closest to the street. Surely, if someone could hear screams coming from inside the house, someone would’ve saved me already.
I laugh at that thought. People suck. It’s entirely possible no one would’ve saved me.
“Hello?” a soft voice rings out. My head snaps in the direction of the front door. It sounds like the devil. It must be. Who else could it be? The devil has come to collect me for me for the ultimate sin I’ve committed.
My breath disturbs the silence in short staccato stabs of air. I pinch my eyes shut when the knocking at my front door starts again. Maybe if my eyes are closed, the knocking will go away. Maybe the devil behind it will disappear.
Shaking my head, I rub my eyelids with my pointer finger and thumb in frustration.
The devil isn’t going away.
My house is bathed in darkness and shadows, but I feel like I’m standing in a spotlight. Like an idiot, I’m standing directly in front of the door, at a loss of what to do. I thump my curled fist into my forehead, frustrated with myself. I wasn’t prepared for this. For any of this. I thought I had more time. Stupid of me to think I had something as precious as time when living with a monster.
What do I do what do I do what do I do?
Answer it.
No. I’ll never escape if I do.
What other option do I have? Hide?
Maybe it’ll work for a little while, but the devil will come back for me. Facing my demons head on is the only way.
Breathe lodges in my throat when I hear the voice. “I know you’re in there, I can see you.”
Fuck. That’s creepy. That’s literally the last thing anyone would want to hear.
Whose idea was it to get a door that’s nearly all glass? Of course, it’s frosted glass, but it’s also has a sickly pretty design that have ribbons of clear glass woven in.
I’m caught. There’s no turning back now.
Slowly, I make my way to the door, my bare feet lightly slapping across the wooden floor. Standing in front of the door, I just stare, praying that they’ll give up and leave. Another knock has me jumping out of my skin, this time loud and impatient. Jesus, was that really fucking necessary? My hand shakes as I raise it to the doorknob.
Just fucking open it.
So, I do. My gaze immediately drops down.
“Girl Scout cookies?”
Yup, still the fucking devil.
