Chapter Seven
Elena
It was almost nine when I finally settled on the couch, after showering, eating, and making sure my plans were set in motion.
Now, I sat in front of the TV as it flickered with the soft light of a Christmas rom-com.
It was the kind of movie where everyone falls in love under fake snow and twinkling fairy lights.
I’d seen it a hundred times, maybe more, but something about Christmas rom-coms during Christmas always hit differently.
But tonight, I wasn’t fully watching, part of me just needed the noise, something to drown out the creaks and sighs of the house.
My legs were tucked under a blanket, my hair still damp from the shower, and the mug of hot chocolate that had long gone cold sat half-empty on the table.
Beside it, sat my “arsenal.” A flashlight, my brother’s dagger, and the courage I’d been building all day.
The strawberry jam trap was already laid out around me; the thick, red, goo glistening under the lamp’s glow.
The bowl I’d used to spread it still sat in the sink, streaked with pink, sticky sugar.
I’d been ready since eight, telling myself I’d stay awake all night if I had to.
But time…time had other plans.
At first, it was easy. The movie played in the background; the heroine was baking cookies with her impossibly perfect boyfriend, and I even caught myself smiling at one point.
Then the clock struck ten, then eleven, and slowly the lights became too soothing, making my body relax, and my eyelids heavier.
Was all of this just some stupid idea? Was me surviving my first attempt at death somehow messing with my brain? The more I let myself drift away, the more I doubted everything that had happened to me the past 24 hours.
“Nothing’s happening,” I murmured, half to myself, half to the empty room. “You’re losing it, Elena. Completely losing it.”
The fireplace crackled, and the TV hummed softly. I let out a shaky laugh. “Ghosts. Right.” It wasn’t coming for me again. Last night might’ve been real, but it wasn’t coming back for me.
I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and leaned back.
My head dipped once, then twice, then sleep began to pull at me, soft and slow like a lullaby.
I hated how something inside me felt disappointed…
not sad, but disappointed. Like going to the battlefield and seeing there was no one to fight.
It was silly. I should be happy that it was all over, but as I let the darkness take me, I found myself being disappointed. Fuck!
And then the world went completely black, the TV died mid-sentence, the living room lights flickered once, twice, and vanished.
I shot upright, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Then everything went black, pitch black.
The silence was deafening, there was no hum of electricity, no wind outside, nothing but the just stillness and my drumming heart. Then…
BANG.
The front doors slammed open with a force so hard, I felt it from where I sat. The wind screamed through the hallway, so wild and freezing, scattering papers off the coffee table and sending the blanket flying off of me. I felt my heart stop, for a second I was certain I had died from fear.
“No, no, no…” I scrambled for the flashlight, fumbling with the switch. It flickered once, casting a weak cone of light across the room, then sputtered, flickered again, and died completely. What the hell!
I slapped the thing as hard as I could, praying to the universe this wasn’t some sick joke. “Please,” I whispered, still shaking it, but nothing.
I dropped it and reached for my phone, picking it up and turning on the flash light immediately.
The doors were still open, and the wind howled loudly, but it was just me in the living room.
I was still safe, so I got up to close the door, my bare feet stepping into the jam around me.
Just as I almost reached the door, my light flickered, then…
darkness. I stood there frozen in the dark, with my own ragged breathing echoing too loudly.
My phone died next, and I was alone again, but this time, with darkness hugging me like a second skin.
Before I could think of sprinting toward the door to stop anything from coming in, the sound came.
Like footsteps, slow and dragging, like it carried the whole world on its shoulders.
It was inside the house, and I didn’t dare wait another second.
I spun toward the table, gripping the dagger so tightly my hand shook.
“I’m not afraid anymore!” I shouted, even though my voice cracked. “You hear me? I’m not afraid of you!” I couldn’t see what or who I was yelling at, but I felt it…the same chilling feeling from last night. I could feel it in my bones.
The air grew colder, the kind of cold that seeps into your veins, making your blood go still.
My breath came out in little clouds. Somewhere, deep in the house, was something that had come back for me.
I stumbled back to the couch, unbothered about the jam stuck under my feet, I cut my palm with the dagger in one swift, trembling motion.
The sting was sharp, yet grounding and familiar in a way.
I had one wrist healing, proof that I was close to ending it all, and now, another cut, proof that I was trying to stay alive.
“Come on,” I hissed through gritted teeth, smearing the blood along my wrist. “You want me? Then come and get me.”
As the words left my mouth, the dead flashlight on the floor came to life, right on cue. I stopped midway as I reached to pick it up. I had barely touched it when I saw it. Footprints; wet shapes appearing on the floorboards, one after another, heading straight for me.
My pulse roared in my ears, and I moved deeper into the couch, lifting my bleeding hand. I pointed it toward the door, just like I had planned.
“Get out!” I screamed. “You’re not…”
A laugh cut through my words. “Oh, Elena…” The voice was just as cold as last time, the sound the same one that slithered through the air like smoke, deep enough to vibrate in my chest, yet soft enough to send a shiver crawling down my spine.
I froze.
“Please…” I whispered, my confidence faltering.
“The way you beg, Elena...makes death jealous of life,” it whispered, its tone mocking, hunting, yet doing the very thing I convinced myself not to feel.
I wasn’t afraid. I shouldn’t be afraid I can’t be afraid, I tell myself, still pointing my bleeding palm at the direction it came.
“I’m not afraid of you! I’m not...” I tried to warn, but the swift grip on my throat silenced me, blocking air from flowing into my lungs in a matter of seconds.
“I like it better when your pussy is begging for my dick...” it sneered, its grip on my throat tightening, yet I saw nothing. Nothing but the eerily feelings, and the tight painful grip. “Would you like that to happen again?
“No, no! I...” I tried to mutter, tears steaming down my cheeks.
“You’re hot when you lie, brave girl...” I felt the wet slimly stroke on my cheek, like yesterday, the thing had licked my face again.
Fuck me for feeling this way, for not fighting as hard as I planned too, for fucking getting wet by this depraved unholy thing! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck...
“I will fuck you, that I hear loud and clear,” it whispered, before sticking its tongue into my ear. The cold, wet slime filled my ear in a slow, smooth, circular motion, making a sound escape my mouth. Shameless, Elena, you’re so fucking shameless!
“Don’t do this…leave me alone...” I begged, my eyes turning red from the lack of oxygen in my lungs.
“Not even life nor death can make me leave you, my brave girl,” it whispered, guiding me back until my back hit the couch as I gasped for air, my blood now staining everything in its path.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my chest rising and falling rapidly, as I looked into the empty space where I knew it was.
“How awfully naive.” I felt its hands on my chest, yet, I didn’t move.
“You...” It trailed a sharp nail around my breast, tearing the fabric covering it.
“Your life…” Then I felt it drag over my nipple, making it harden further.
“And your fucking needy cunt…” it added, this time colder, more taunting, like a warning.