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AT LAST JACK threw open the door, instantly flicking on the light that, of course, had only just started to work again. He fell to the floor, grabbing the crying Alaina tight in his arms as she instantly pushed herself into his grasp. She sobbed into his chest, throat tearing at her terrified cries as Jack's hold on her grew even more and more concerned. You're okay, she told herself, it's okay. Was it okay? She couldn't help but think it wasn't, because she would never, ever forget that night.
"It jumped at me, it jumped at me. It was gonna kill me, it was- it was gonna take me," she repeated in a cry, voice loud and strained and everything in-between.
"You're okay, love. Nothing's gonna get you now, you're safe," the boy whispered carefully, holding her even closer to his body in comfort.
Due to the commotion, everyone had ran just outside of or into the doorway, but quickly, after seeing the sight, Sister Charlotte hurried the rest of the girls to bed. They caught glimpses of the glass on the floor, the hysterical girl lying in Jack's arms, the pressure marks on the door - from the desperate boy only moments beforehand - and the blood that coated some of the glistening shards, but they quickly complied. If it helped, they would do anything for the Bilson child.
Mr Mullins told the woman to go to sleep too as he walked into the room and moved past the glass on the floor. She hesitated longer than the children did, surveying the girl she'd looked after for so long crying on the floor, and yet she too left. If anyone knew what to do, it was Mr Mullins and Jack - she would only get in the way.
The boy sitting on the floor holding the girl moved one of his hands up to push the brunette curls of hair away from her forehead, them sticking to her cheeks as they gleamed with tears. He was gentle, afraid he would only make it worse, but to his surprise, she slightly moved her head away from him and stared into his eyes.
She reached up with both her shaking hands, softly sliding them onto his cheeks to look him right in the eye. Their noses were almost touching. He instantly softened at the sight of her tear-streaked and trauma-ridden face. "It's Annabelle, Jack," she muttered so quietly he almost didn't hear her. "The devil's inside of her."
He looked at her for a moment, face falling, before he pulled her closer once more. He tilted his head down, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she tightened her grip around him, tears no longer falling as quickly as before.
Mr Mullins, from in front of them, slammed the window shut, causing a gasp to escape the brunette's lips as she jumped in Jack's arms. The teenage boy immediately looked up with an angered gleam in his eye, glaring at the man across the room.
"This, this-" the boy on the ground eyed the room and the girl in his hands dramatically "- is all your fault. This is on you, you."
The man continued to blankly stare, but Jack knew Samuel Mullins. He saw every muscle in his face move, the subtle glint of recognition in his eye and the tenseness present in his jaw. Little did the teen know, however, he didn't see Alaina on the floor. No, he saw his wife from a few years beforehand, a hand covering her eye as she wailed into the night.
"She's here, Sam," the boy mumbled with his own twitch of his jaw, the line extending beneath the lower part of his head tightening out of annoyance and pure rage. He couldn't help but think of what could have happened if that door hadn't opened. It was the worst, the worst picture came to his mind - Alaina, dead, in a pile of her own blood.
"I saw her," Alaina whispered as she slowly moved her head away from Jack's chest. She stared across at the man, watching as his face fell into what looked to be an apologetic morph of sympathy.
Jack spared the brunette a glance before refocusing his anger on the man by the window across the room who was slowly shuffling forward. "It's Annabelle. I don't know what you did, if you did it, but something's got a hold of her. She's not fucking Annabelle anymore," the teen scoffed with a stern shake of his head.
And just like that, the old man had snapped, his brows drawing close as his lips curved into an annoyed frown. In an instant he was out of the room, his loud, storming footsteps booming through the hall and into the teens' bedroom as he descended the staircase. It was clear to them that he knew something, something bad, they just didn't know what.
"I don't think . . . I don't want to be in here anymore, Jack," Alaina stammered quietly as she moved her arms back around his body. Instead of retracting them completely, she clutched onto the front of his shirt with fright as she looked around the room, eyes wide and unsteady. He watched her with a saddened frown.
"Then we'll go to the living room," he whispered, tucking another strand of her hair behind her ear before moving to a stand. He offered her a hand. "Is that okay?"
She smiled up at him, as best of a smile as she could manage, before she gently took his hand and let him help her stand up. He grabbed a few pillows and his blanket, as hers was on the floor covered in glass, while refusing needing her help. She waited, however, by the doorway leading to the hall. She was too scared to walk alone.
They left their glass-covered shoes by the doorway of their room, walking towards the living room on the ground floor with bare feet. She didn't mind it, however, as she could feel it. She could still feel, because if the boy beside her had been even a second longer, she might not have a soul to happily call her own.
He threw the pillows onto the couch, watching as she moved them about comfortably, before he flicked on the lamp. "Leaving this on?" He asked with raised brows, watching as she looked over sheepishly.
"Can we?" She asked, voice remaining quiet. She felt like she didn't have the ability to speak any louder anymore.
He smiled. "Of course," he whispered before he made his way towards her. He sat at the end of the couch, legs extending to rest against the coffee table he had shifted closer, before he looked over at her. She laid down, and with the welcoming smile of him, collectively decided to rest her head on his lap. He draped the blanket over her, the girl instantly tugging it closer to her face. She couldn't help but focus on the fact that it smelled exactly like him.
They laid like that for a few minutes, Alaina trying not to remember the little girl that'd somehow changed into whatever beast was living inside of her dead body, as she focused on his breathing and the fact he was right there with her. His presence alone made a difference and allowed her to finally fall asleep.
He didn't sleep a wink until he knew she was asleep too.
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