SEASON TWO — CHAPTER TEN "Kat's gonna do a backflip. Just watch and enjoy the show."
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Back in her childhood home, Alexandra narrowed her eyes as she examined each little detail. Her room portrayed the appearance of an exuberant young girl, especially with the drawings of her family plastered on the walls and the stuffed animals lying on her bed. No one would expect her to be sleeping next door to someone worse than the monsters under her bed.
However, if one looked closer, they would realize the truth. They would realize that in her drawings, she never incorporated her father nor any cheerful colors, always using black crayons — that the gray color of her room's walls resembled how she felt inside while all the other little girls had a rosy pink or a bright blue.
Although he was just a few feet down the hall from her, she wished he was out of the picture. She wished it was just her and her mother. Confused, Alex furrowed her brows at the sight of her younger self sitting on her bed. She couldn't have been older than seven. Her younger self had fear etched into her bones as she waited for her bedroom door to creak open and reveal the face of a monster — her father. Her own flesh and blood.
"Hey," Alex said softly, kneeling down. Granted the chance to give her younger self consolation, she took it. She monitored the door, knowing he would come inside sooner or later. The younger version of Alex didn't react, almost as if her future self was invisible.
Heart dropping, Alex pivoted her head toward the door when she heard footsteps approaching, ones she could recognize anywhere. "No," she whispered. It confirmed her worst fear as his face appeared, a putrid smirk greeting the child laying on the bed. Seven-year-old Alex was quick to cover herself with a blanket, praying that would be enough to communicate that she wanted to be left alone.
The asshole did not take the hint, stepping forward enthusiastically, also not able to see his full-grown daughter. Discovering she was in one of her old and suppressed memories, Alex fought to wake up from her slumber. It didn't work. She was forced to watch as the walking nightmare tiptoed closer to the young girl.
Alex refused to stand by or run, snatching a baseball bat and swinging. Her rage deepened when she realized she really couldn't do anything, the bat going through her father as if he were a mere hologram. Nothing she did worked as his harsh hands removed the blanket. With no intent on reliving the misfortune she thought she put behind her, she headed for the door. Her attempt was futile. The exit had disappeared. Locked inside, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. She turned around to see that the seven-year-old version of herself was gone, making her father focus on her. Just like she remembered them, she could only spot pure evil in his eyes.
