Your Wish is my Command

I. Grace

Grace grabbed the wooden planks from the basement. She picked up the nails and the hammer and climbed the basement stairs. She didn't want to be there, but she wanted to be safe.

There were no lights in the basement. She had to feel around for the tools she'd use to board up the house. Her parents were still asleep; it was six o'clock in the morning. She had to work quietly, although at the moment she was not doing a very good job. She had dropped the box of nails twice, and she had whacked the wall with the wooden planks. She crept - as silently as was possible - up the basement stairs and into the main bulk of the house.

She and her parents lived in quite a large house; her father was a dentist which happened to pay pretty well. She didn't want to ruin their pleasant home, and she certainly didn't want to displease her mother and father, but she was desperate. She didn't feel safe with no protection.

What Grace was scared of was the series of murders that had taken place in her town, Greyside town. There had been at least twenty deaths in the past six months. All of the bodies had been taken in for analysis, and there had been no evidence of violence, injury or poisoning. The bodies were completely unharmed. But most of the town still believed that these deaths were no coincidence.

Grace went to the door. Her parents didn't think that the deaths were murders, and therefore she would have to do this herself. She took the first plank of wood and held it in place over the door. She got a nail and put the point against the end of the wood. She lifted the hammer and smashed it as hard as she could onto the nail. She missed the nail and ended dropping the nail AND the wood. She flinched as the wood hit the floor, making a loud bang. She took a deep breath. Her parents had not awoken. She picked up the wood slowly, being as careful as she could. She once again put input in place against the door. She picked up the nail, and once again put the point against the wood. With one swing of the hammer, the nail bent and fell. This time she had the wood in place so it wouldn't fall.

This was about the only thing she wished she had siblings for. Her life had always been perfect; her parents spoilt her and got her whatever she wanted. She'd never had to share anything. Her best friend Hannah used to say how frustrating it was having three brothers and one sister. They would always get on her nerves and push her around and tease her. Grace was grateful that she had none of that.

But if only she'd had a brother to help her block the house. She knew boys were strong; if she'd have a brother he would have helped her out, and she wouldn't have had to have gone through all of this. It was painful.

She pressed the wood firmly against the door. She got a different nail. She got in position. She was ready to use the hammer when a voice in her ear whispered, "Did you really think you'd get away with this, Gracie?"

Horrified, she turned slowly to see her father glowering at her. She sunk away from him and back against the front door.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, nailing wood to my door at..." He checked his watch. "Five past six in the morning?"

"I'm scared, daddy. I-I don't want to die."

He sighed impatiently. "We've been through this," he whispered to her. "Those deaths were just coincidences."

"No. They weren't. They were real murders, and you know it, daddy." She didn't know why she still called him 'daddy'. She was ten years old. She didn't need to say that anymore.

Her father glared at her. "Right. I've had enough. Bed. Now. And if you're up before nine then I will be very - and I mean very - disappointed in you, young lady." He stalked off, and left her by the front door.

She slowly made her way to her bedroom. She hated being caught. Hated it. She wanted to be angry and shout, but she just cried. She couldn't believe herself. Why was she crying?

When she got to her room, she slammed the door, hoping to keep her parents awake. She then climbed back into bed, and curled up.

"I want to die," she said. "I should just let the psycho killer come and get me." She knew she didn't mean it - maybe she was just tired - but she could've sworn she heard a small voice in the back of her head whisper, "Your wish is my command."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw herself in the mirror. She saw her unusually bright green eyes, sparkling, reflecting the soft glow of her night light. That's odd, she thought to herself, I don't even have green eyes. That was true. She had blue eyes.

But the curiosity didn't get the better of her. She closed her eyes as everything went black. She must've been more tired than she had thought. Her eyelids pulled down.

Little did Grace know that she'd never be awake again.