The Babysitter

Chapter 8

Sandy's house was a big grey one, with a lovely garden. As Willow walked on, her legs wobbly. Suddenly, she tripped on the pavement. Cole walked out, ignoring her completely. Sandy hurried over and helped Willow pick up her stuff and guided her inside the house.

"Hey."

Smiled a friendly man drinking a cup of Starbucks cappuccino. The air smelt warm and welcoming, as he grinned.

"That's Garett, my husband. Garett, this is Willow,"

Garett nodded, setting down his Starbucks drink. He got up and helped Willow to her room.

"Your room, Willow."

He announced, ushering to a small, white coloured room with a bed with dark sheets. Willow smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

She said, hoarsely.

"Just never give up Willow, be strong."

He said, then left. Willow started the tedious work of taking out her stuff. Placing her clothes in the closet, arranging family photos. As she stared at a rare photo of the whole entire family, Willow felt tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. A lump formed in her throat.

"Dad..."

She whispered.

"Krystal, mom..."

All of them, gone. A tear slid down her cheek dropping on the photo. A unknown warmth seemed to come closer in that moment. Dropping onto the ground, she clutched the photo, knowing nothing like that will ever occur again.

Who knew, my whole family could die within two years? I can't live alone, it kills me so much. No one to cheer me on in life. No one to comfort me...

***

At night, Willow sat on the bed, staring at the photo. I can't sleep, who knows, I may never sleep again. Curling up in the soft blankets, Willow couldn't find any warmth or comfort. Then a sudden chill drifted into the room. A quiet sob, a footstep, blood splattering onto the floors.

"Help..."

A crazed voice murmured. A awful, heart wrenching sight caught Willow's eye. Broken children, in shades of black, white and grey. But their blistering wounds were bright coloured, and running. A chilling howl bursted from them, the sound of the restless dead.

They drifted around, like wisps of smog, crying, howling, moaning. Their blood forever dripping, disappearing as it hit the ground. Who were they? Victims of Mallory?

Horrifyingly enough, all the children seemed to be possessed, drifting around like controlled by invisible strings by a hidden puppeteer. In the back, Willow saw the outline of Mallory, smiling serenely. The damned babysitter. The children faded into a circle, surrounding Willow, coming closer and closer.

Finally they flew so close, Willow was being suffocated by the wisps of the ghastly ghosts. Their grotesque arms reaching for her, attempting to drag her away.

"Willow, you know you won't survive alone."

Mallory laughed, her voice deep with blood thirst. She cackled as Crimson blood dripped down the corner of her mouth,

"STOP!"

Willow squealed loudly, she kicked and thrashed, trying to escape the haunting clutches of the spirits. The door suddenly swung open and the ghosts vanished into the ground.

Cole.

"What the hell is going on in here."

He snapped. How would he understand, he'll probably kick me to the nearest mental hospital. But what should I say?

"Nothing, I dropped something."

Willow sighed, knowing that was a pathetic lie. Cole glared at her.

"Then why were you screaming your ass off?"

"Just just the heck outta here!"

Snarled Willow. Cole rolled his eyes and walked out. What was his problem? Willow didn't sleep for the whole entire night, the images of the undead children haunting her mind. In the morning, she felt dead herself. I hate my life.