The Shaded

Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My pupils awoke to a blinding sunshine beaming through the thin curtains. The bat sat on the floor several feet away from me, and I felt an atrocious burning sensation on my skin.

I peered down at myself and discovered markings strewn across both of my arms. They were symbols of some sort, maybe a certain language or some hieroglyphs in black ink, except for one marking. One marking was etched onto my palm. It appeared as a lopsided eight, the one I saw before in that film in the basement. It felt like it was sizzling under my flesh. Utterly petrified, I darted out of my bedroom and toward the nearest sink.

I sprung into the bathroom on the verge of hyperventilating as I latched onto both of the knobs, placing both of my ink-riddled arms under the rushing, lukewarm water.

The ink stayed. I chafed at my now reddish skin, but it was to no avail. Absolutely no avail, no matter how vigorous the scrubbing. The writing remained.

I surrendered, sliding downward on the wall, gawking at my colored limbs. I'm not sure I even desired answers anymore. If I could recall, I believed I stopped wanting that long before this.

I marched from the bathroom and screamed her name. I was exhausted from her foolishness. It was time for a well-earned explanation.

"MOM!" I bellowed.

The house wobbled just a bit for a microsecond.

"Mom?"

No response. Had she been hiding in her "spot" in the bookcase? I proceeded down the stairs to the bottom floor, vigilant of every corner I passed. No sign of her. No sign of anything except the cats in the yard. No noise except for my feet thumping against the wooden surface of the floor.

I sauntered into the kitchen where I noticed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tidily prepared on a spotless plate aside from a hefty glass of milk and a note. I read the pink print.

"Hello dear! If you're reading this right now and I am nowhere to be found, that must mean that I've run off to the grocery store (again)! You have to eat something, am I right? Anyways, I left you a nice sandwich here and some milk to tide you over. You must be awfully hungry! I'll be home shortly. I've got a LOVELY surprise for you today!

-Love, Mother."

I'm not sure who wrote this letter anymore. It could mean anything. Anything could mean anything now.

My stomach hissed at me, vibrating my belly ceaselessly. I knew what that meant, at least. My anxiety lived in my stomach content, and would either ultimately wreck anything it came in contact with or insist on devouring... and devouring... and devouring. There was no food left in the fridge other than half-empty condiments and an onion.

The sandwich derided me as I just ogled at it before tossing the snack into my mouth, gnawing on the crusts, demolishing the bread with my teeth and guzzling down the remains with a quenchable river of milk.

At least now, my hunger was satisfied.

Over the hushed rumbles of my insides, I could hear a car engine purring outside. I tried to walk towards the main door but began to feel lightheaded. I held out my hand for a doorknob at least fifteen feet away, and as I did, I noticed that as I motioned my hand across my eyes, my vision grew a bit muzzy as well. I felt as if I began to leave my body, everything spiraling around me gradually as the feeling in my toes vanished. I felt a miniature gust of wind push me backward. I stumbled ridiculously at least a few feet backward before I lost balance entirely and descended straight for the hardwood floor, landing in someone's arms.

It was her. I felt the frigidness of her arm arteries against my tattooed skin as she fondled my hair with her meaty hand, casually transporting her palm over to my mouth and nose.

"Shhhh..." she spoke gently as I witnessed the kitchen ceiling fade into an unpromising black.