Chapter Eleven
A small window. There is only darkness through the glass.
I’m waiting but I don’t know for what. I hear movement coming from inside.
My heart is pounding, excitement fills my veins, but I know that now is not the time.
It’s not yet my turn. I stay vigilant. I see.
I learn. I look down at my hand; it’s holding a human. A human made of twigs. A gift. For him.
I climb out of bed and put my sweats back on.
It's freezing in here at night. The door to the bedroom is cracked open and the lights that I thought I left on are now off.
The darkness in the hallway freaks me out enough that I decide to turn the bedroom light on hoping it will, in turn, illuminate the hallway a little.
As I open the bedroom door, the bit of light that does escape the room mostly casts shadows around the hallway, not helping my unease.
I take a few steps out into the hallway and hear knocking.
As much as I don't want to follow the noise, I worry it could be Luke having gotten trapped somehow or maybe even hurt, so I force myself to investigate.
The knocking leads me right to the same room where all the weird stuff happens. First scratching and now this.
As if something reads my mind, a long almost ringing scratch starts on what sounds like the far side of the room before stopping at the door.
I didn’t realize that I had taken the last step closer to the door.
When I look down, my hand is already grasping the doorknob.
I don’t remember telling myself to do this and, like my mind is out of my control, I feel myself turning the knob and letting the door swing open.
Without stepping inside, I reach my hand in as far as I can, trying to find the light switch.
When I can’t find it, I’m forced to go inside.
I run my hands around in desperate circles on the wall, hoping I will fumble upon it. “What the hell….”
Feeling a little panicked being in this room in the dark, I run over to the wall on the other side of the door but once again I’m unable to find the switch.
I groan, turning around to go grab my phone from the bedroom, but I stop before I can take a step.
The light in the bedroom is off. Anxiously, I call out into the darkness, “Luke?” But I get no reply.
I hold my breath as I march back into the hallway and to the bedroom, my mind fighting against my every step.
As fast as I can, I turn the light back on and grab my phone, trying to slow my breathing. I hate this place.
When I get back to the hallway, I adjust the flashlight on my phone to the brightest setting and say a silent prayer. I’m not even religious. I don’t believe in God but at this point I figure it can’t hurt.
As I walk back inside the room, I start methodically scanning the walls for the switch, slowly turning in a circle, shining the light up and down the furthest wall.
I stop when my light lands on something I can’t see well.
As I move closer, it becomes horrifyingly clear.
It’s a long, deep scratch that’s so high I can’t understand how a small creature would have been able to make it.
I hesitate before moving the flashlight across the wall, continually horrified as I discover that it’s completely covered in scratches, like someone was walking back and forth with a knife, gouging huge chunks out of the wall.
My mind is racing; my thoughts are jumbled and confused.
Why are these here? The door to the room slams behind me, interrupting the start of my panic.
I spin around, eyes wide as I run to the door.
I try to turn the knob, but it’s locked, so I start yanking on it.
It isn’t budging. I slam my fists on the door and scream, “Luke! Hello? Are you out there? I’m stuck!
Let me out!” My vision blurs around the edges as I feel my fear growing larger.
I realize I’m holding my breath, so I lower myself to the ground, pulling my legs up to my chest, putting my head between my knees.
I try to focus on taking a few deep, long breaths, knowing I can’t let myself pass out.
After a few minutes, when my heart rate and breathing have gotten steadier, I stand back up.
I start pacing around the small space, trying to think of how to get myself out of this room.
I look over to the window thinking maybe I could climb out.
I cross the room quickly before I lose my momentary bravery.
As I get close to the window, I see someone standing in the yard.
I creep as close to the window as I can get, trying to get a better look and gasp.
It’s Luke. I grab the bottom of the window, trying to force it open but it’s stuck.
Why is this happening? I bang on the window and start screaming his name, but he doesn’t hear me.
I turn around again, ready to break down the door if I need to, but it’s open.
What is going on? I bring my hands up and hit the sides of my head, anxiety and fear racing to the surface.
Oh my god, I’m crazy. I’m losing my mind. This can’t be happening.
Screams fill the air around me. I’ve never heard this type of scream before.
They are deep and guttural. I know it’s Luke.
I have to get to him. I whip the door open the rest of the way, not caring that I’ve left my phone and I have no light to guide me.
I race down the hallway, the moonlight shining through the small window in the door illuminates just enough that I can see the stairs.
My mind has switched into auto-drive and all I can think is that I have to stop Luke’s screams. When I try to open the door, it’s locked.
It only slows me for a moment before I’m outside and sprinting into the yard.
His screams are so loud now that I’m disoriented.
I trip, falling to the ground, desperation taking over as I claw myself back up.
The steps I’m taking aren’t even registering; I can’t tell how long it’s taking me to get to him when suddenly I’m in front of him.
When I see his face, I freeze. I don’t know how to process how he looks.
I’ve never seen Luke look like this. I’ve never seen anyone look like this.
His eyes are wider than what should be possible, making his face look warped with his mouth open as he continues to scream.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t seem to see me standing in front of him.
I snap back to reality and grab the sides of his face, hard. “Luke! Luke, stop!” I yell at him, my face right in front of him now, but he doesn’t. His screams instead seem to grow louder.
Instinctively, I put my hands over my ears and look all around, sure that someone will have heard this and come to help, but we’re alone.
I put my hands on his shoulders and start shaking him as hard as I can, tears streaming down my face as I continue to plead with him to stop.
I bring my hands down to his and that’s when I notice he's holding one of the stick figures. In an instant, I’m prying it out of his hand.
I can barely manage to open his fingers but the moment the figure is in my hands, without thought, I run to the edge of the woods and fling it.
“Leave us alone! We don’t have anything! ”
After the words have left my mouth, I hear Luke go quiet.
I turn around fast, not knowing what to expect, but to my relief he is still standing in the same spot.
I run back to him, his face now a blank slate, no expression in his eyes.
I bring my hands back to his face, gentler this time as I whisper his name.
He doesn’t look at me; I can tell he still doesn’t see me.
I don’t know what to do other than try to put my feelings and my panic to the side and get Luke inside.
Every bone in my body is telling me that we aren’t safe outside.
I take his hand and start pulling him with me and thankfully he follows.
“It’s okay. Let’s get inside and warm up.
Everything is going to be okay.” I say it to Luke, but if I’m honest, it’s also for me.
Once we’re inside, I sit him down on the steps.
He is like an empty shell, only moving when I push and pull, but I can’t worry about that right now.
Instead, I run around the main level making sure all the doors and windows are locked.
Once I feel as secure as I can, I go back to the stairs where Luke is still sitting, hunched over but still as a statue.
I kneel, positioning myself in a way so that I can see his eyes, which are staring down at the floor, not moving or blinking.
A tear rolls down my face, but I quickly wipe it away.
Not yet. I can’t break down again, not when this isn’t over.
The only thing I can think to do is take him back to bed, so I take his hand once again, standing him up and guide him back up the stairs.
I put him back in bed, having to physically push him to get him to lay down.
I’m hoping that I’m going to wake up and this will only have been a nightmare.
After I get him tucked in, I turn toward the door. I need to go back to get another look at that room or I’ll never be able to clear my mind and go to sleep. I need to know if what I saw was real or not. I grab one of my bags to prop open the door, I’m not taking any chances this time.
I automatically reach my hand to the side to flip on the light, before remembering there isn’t a switch there.
I hesitate, sure that my fingers felt something and when I reach back up, I find a light switch.
I take a deep breath and flip it. Light illuminates the entire room and to my confusion and horror, the walls are empty.
I take rushed steps to where I know the scratches should be, when I hear and feel a crunch.
When I look down, I see my phone lying on the floor, now cracked.
I lean down, pick it up and try to turn it on but all that stares back at me is a broken, black screen.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, knowing there’s nothing I can do.
I look back up at the wall, not knowing if I want to see the scratches or not, but it’s still blank.
The only thing on it are the same brown stains from the first day.
I run my hands along the surface, wondering if I’ll feel the gouges and scratch marks that covered this wall just a bit ago, but it’s smooth and cold.
Feeling aggravated and concerned over my mental wellbeing, I slam my hand against the wall.
Before I pull it away from the wall, a loud thud echoes back at me from the other side.
I scream, jumping back but then something inside of me snaps.
I start beating the wall like a lunatic.
“Stop it! Stop! Stop!” I stumble backward away from the wall once I come to my senses, gasping for breath.
A few seconds pass before the entire room erupts in banging across every wall.
Along with the word “stop” being screamed back at me and I swear it’s my own voice I hear.