House Of Horrors

School On Maple St.

I'm in so much excruciating pain, that I had a dreamless sleep at the foot of Elliot's bed. With my clothes still drenched and glued to my now bruised body, I barely pulled the worn comforter over myself with shaking hands before passing out from the pain.

Despite practically passing out, I keep bursting awake every fifteen minutes. Just as I start to reach that deep sleep, I swear I can feel a hand on me. Small touches, like fingertips grazing my skin, or a hand gently running through my damp hair, but each time I open my eyes there's no one there.

The pattern is driving me insane, practically haunting me.

I manage to drift off, feeling someone touching me, then gasp awake in panic.

I calm down enough to fall back asleep.

A hand carcasses my damp cheek.

I choke down a scream as I straighten up.

There's nothing there.

---------

"I thought I wet the bed!" Waking up in a cold sweat at Elliot's exclamation, I wake up with my heart hammering hard against my ribs. I take in the pale sunlight coming through the old window, and the knot of fear in my throat loosens just enough for me to take a deep breathe.

"Why are you soaking wet? Why are you in my bed? Did you take a bath with your clothes on?" Elliot fires, throwing his damped sheets into a pile on the floor.

"I... I...." Panic fills me up. I have no excuse. I have no reasoning or logic to give my little brother a peace of mind.

"I t-took a wack at the pipes, and they got angry with me." Despite being in the same panic from last night, I somehow manage a decent lie.

"But why are you in my bed?" Elliot doesn't misses a beat.

"I thought you had the box full of the clean towels. I was so tired, I stopped looking... and I just passed out." I pull out of my ass. Elliot doesn't look convinced in the slightest.

"I'm sorry, Elliot for crashing in your room." I try to win him over with an apology. Guilt flares up with the anxiety. The room I gave him... a space to finally call his own, I keep intruding it. I invade and violate, making him unease in my damaged wake.

"I'll wash your sheets." Stripping the mattress, I gather up the sheets in my arms, desperately clinging to the damp sheets in a vain effort of comfort, doesn't make me feel the slightest shred of safety.

"Did you hit your head on the pipe?" Elliot tries to joke, but I can see the unease in his gaze.

"Yeah." I lie, trying to walk straight without limping.

------

I feel so broken and fragile that a big gust of wind could topple me over. I stand at the edge of the school yard, leaning against an oak tree for support, because it's too hard to stand on my own. All of the tree's leafs litter the school yard in a mass of yellow and orange. It's impossible to take one step without hearing a crunch of stale autumn leaves under your shoes.

Let out of work early, I came to pick up my siblings, making sure to cover as much of the bruises with a heavy amount of layers. The chilly November wind doesn't bother me with my barricade of a thick, lumpy moss green sweater under a faded yellow cardigan, then an old black jacket with a handmedown green scarf wrapped up to my chin. If I could have covered the bruises on my face, then I would but we're already the new people who bought the haunted house in town, no need to add weirdo to that.

I jump at the sound of the school bell, the sudden movement flaring up my injuries as if an invisible hand reopened each one. Trying not to give the PTA moms something to talk about, I try to be natural as possible as the elementary school students rush out of the building. Small backpacks hop up and down as sneakers light up with energetic running. The school yard over flows as the entire school appears to be over joyed that school is out for the day.

My siblings don't spot me right away. Elliot and Elle excitedly play a game of tag with a few classmates. Smiling into my scarf, I decide to let them play rather than fetch them. I'm too glad they made friends to break up the game.

"Hello! Hello! Hello!" I have to steel myself instead of jumping a foot into the air at Michelle Tucker - the peppiest stay at home mom in our neighborhood - great me with an over enthusiasm that could cause headaches. Michelle makes me feel a lot of things. Most of the time it's awkwardness since she's raising a teenage daughter the same age as me, but we're both guardians to children in the same grade. Yet, a part of me aspirates her role as a participating, involved, stay at home mother who never misses picking up her kids everyday.

"Hi Michelle." I manage enough strength for a meekly greeting.

"How's the new house?" She leans forward with a scared expression. "Anything odd happen?" She whispers.

"No," I lie through my teeth. "Nothing strange. No ghosts. No break ins. No weird stuff." I feel like I'm going to vomit. I'm being terrorized by something inhuman, something that has a body count, but I'm not telling anyone that. I'm still hoping that this is all in my imagination, but I know it's real. I have the bruises to prove it.

"That's great to hear!" Michelle beams. "You got yourself a fantastic fixer upper then!" Was that a backhanded compliment?

"Do stop by," she offers her invitation with a charming smile. "Bring your siblings. We could get the kids together, and you can to know my daughter Laura better since you don't go to school with her or the other kids." I can tell Michelle is prying. She's dying to know why I don't go to the local high school, and why she's never met my parents.

Well, I'm not telling her anything soon.

"That'll be nice." I consider her invitation. I might take her up on it just as an excuse to stay out of the house.

"Nice seeing you, Michelle." I wave off, deciding to interrupt Elle's and Elliot's game just as one of the kids whips out an IPhone. I hate trying to explain to my siblings how I can't afford the hottest toy, an IPhone, for any of us. I greet the two with a huge bear hug, so happy to be with them, because what if those monster really take me away from them.