Continuing for Gumwum
"Are you here to kill me?" I whisper. Those red eyes darken, his face looking grim in the dark hallway.
"Yes," his usual smirk nowhere in sight "Yes, I am."
Emme took her little brother and sister trick or treating and her lif...
"You're actually pretty, too bad I have to kill you." Jumping on wet feet, I almost slip, my damp towel nearly off falling with me. His red eyes run up my wet skin, making goosebumps rise under the towel. I clutch the damp towel to my body, feeling my heart unevenly pound against my wet hand.
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"Are you watching me change?" I tighten the towel around me.
"Yeah, you're the first girl in a long, long time to live here. Ever since you moved in I can't help but give into my hormones a bit, and steal a couple of glances. Nothing too racy though." I open my mouth to tell him off, but never get the chance.
"Emme?" A small voice follows the clack of a knock on my bed room door.
"Y-y-" I struggle to find my voice. "Yeah?"
"Can you tell us a story?" Elliot asks.
"S-s-sure." Taking a deep breath in a weak effort to steady myself, I run my shaking hands through my wet hair one to many times, and nearly pull out black strands. "Just give me a minute." I manage in a steadier voice.
With a glare, I go to ward the red eye monster away to change, but he's already vanished. Forcing my hands to stop shaking enough for me to change into old dark green flannel pajamas, I somehow twist my wet locks into a messy braid. Forcing one foot in front of the other I trudge across to Elliot's untidy, empty room. I've been so caught up in red eyes, I've completely forgot to make this haunted place a home for my brother and sister. Elliot and Elle sit on Elliot's mattress, which lies pathetically on the floor. The unpainted walls surrounded us, unpacked boxes untidily take up space. The only light in the room comes from an old lamp sitting on the floor in the corner.
I keep forgetting to be an older good sister to the people who need me most.
I silently decide that no matter what happens to me, even with broken bones, that I'll give them the room of their dreams by the end of the week. Starting now, I'm going to be the guardian I promised I'd be.
"Which story do you want to hear?" I ask, digging through a nearby cardboard box for a paperback.
"Not a picture book." Elliot stops my search.
"We want to hear a story about mom and dad." Elle explains. Touched, and sad I soberly nod. No matter how I try I'll never make them as happy as our parents did when they were alive.
"Which story? The one that explains why we all have E names?" I ask, plopping down at the corner of Elliot's twin bed.
"No," Elle laughs, "the one when they first met." Elle finishes.
"Oh, that one. That's an old one." I lean against the blank wall, trying to recall every detail. Mom told me this story dozens of times at bedtime. I want to tell it just as good as her.
"On a stormy night, the hardest rain of the summer, mom was working in this little hole in the wall dinner. She was working the graveyard shift in a completely empty dinner. Then, at midnight this drenched guy comes in, completely soaked through. Like a rain storm inside! He left a puddle everywhere he walked, puddles mom unfortunately had to mob up.
"He was so dripping wet that when he sat down on the bar stool he soaked the cushion through! At first, mom was annoyed with this stranger, who talked her ear off about how his car broke down. But when he ordered mom's favorite food she knew he wasn't all bad.
"They actually ended up talking till dawn." I smile as the story comes to a close. Years later it is still one of my favorite stories. Fairy tales were predictable, horror stories were too thrilling, but my parents' love stories has always been my favorites.
Elliot sleepily grins up at me, his brown eyes falling shut as I pull the covers up to his chin. I make sure to turn off the lamp in the corner so I can keep the electricity bill reasonable. Elle's small feet drag as she tiredly follows me past the play room to her room. I guiltily eye Elle's blank walls, her room not much better off than Elliot's.
"Sweet dreams." I whisper to Elle as I tuck her in. Carefully shutting their bedroom doors like shutting them away from everything evil in this house I slowly come face to face with the red eyes.
"Cute story." He quietly says, as if he knows he needs to be quiet to let my ten year old siblings sleep. Nodding, I press myself against the wall, preparing for impact.
"Are you here to kill me?" I whisper. Those red eyes darken, his face looking grim in the dark hallway.
"Yes," his usual smirk nowhere in sight "Yes, I am." Taking a deep breath I force myself to pass the intimidating red eye monster.
"I don't have time for your dramatic threats. I have work in the morning to provide for those two." I point at Elliot's and Elle's doors. I sound tough, but secretly I'm terrified of him. I fight to keep my hands from shaking at my sides. His arm shoots out, slamming hard against the wood as he blocks my way into my room. My heart starts to pound so hard I'm scare he can hear it.
My chest rises and falls in rabid huffs in the dark. I don't move a muscle, I just stare up into red eyes, silently wondering what made those orbs unnaturally red in the first place.
Suddenly, scratchy hands grab me in a iron like grip from behind. Discolored fingers stitched by black wire clasp hard over my gasping mouth, and dirty fingernails dig into my skin. The red eye guy watches on as I get dragged away into the dark.
