Darkness

18. Red pt 2

18. Red pt 2

// Spencer//

♦♦♦

With the last roar of an engine speeding off into the distance, the house falls quiet. Erringly quiet, like you could drop a pin anywhere in the house and it would resonate throughout it like an ear deafening screech.

I stay where I am, with my legs crossed in front of me in the middle of the bed, holding my breath and willing the pounding in my chest to quiet, as I listen for any signs of life.

There's nothing. No rummaging in any of the rooms, no footsteps on the creaking floor boards, no cupboards or doors slamming shut anywhere. It's just quiet. And it makes everything else feel that much more wrong. Even when no one was around, the house has always been buzzing with life. But there's nothing now.

Hesitantly I push off of the bed and tip toe to the door. It's silly, being afraid to disturb the quiet, but that doesn't make me any less careful of prying open the door to the hallway and peeking out.

No one.

My heart picks up, pounding in my chest like it wants free.

I step into the hall, pausing momentarily as I the floorboards groan under my step.

Nothing.

My breathing echoes through the hallway, confirming my suspicion that I've been left behind with no one to guard me.

Without hesitation I twist and shoot back into my room, heading for my bedside where I've discarded my dirty sneakers. I snatch them off up and head back into the hallway, this time unconcerned about the noise I'm making, as I rush to the staircase.

My feet pound against each step on my descent.

I pause at the bottom of the staircase. Clutching my hand to my chest, right where my heart beats like I've just ran a marathon, and hold my breath, as I listen for any other movements that might alert me to any other presence in the house.

Still nothing.

I continue, bypassing the front door bolted shut and heading towards the door to the garage. If it's locked I might test my luck at the fence in the backyard, aware that it'll cost me at least half a dozen bruises to climb that height.

I whisk by the door to the small living room, with the bullet holed table and the boarded-up windows, before I make it to the door to the garage.

The handle feels cold in my sweaty palm. I try to still my heart, but it won't stop racing in its cage, in perfect synchronization with my rapid breathing. I test the weight of the handle in my hand, slowly pressing on it, before leaning all of my weigh into forcing it down.

The door rips open in one solid tug and I breath out a sigh of relief, as I step into the garage, slamming the door behind me and assessing the new situation.

One step closer to freedom.

Without the vehicles the garage is completely empty.

I fumble around the walls, searching for any switch or button to open up the doors. When I come up empty handed I turn my attention to the sliding doors. Running my hands around the edge of the gate, I find a small hollow along one side of the wooden panel. I crouch down and tilt my head upwards, trying to get a look at the inconsistency.

It's a hole in the panel that looks to have housed an open switch at one point. An open switch that's no longer there.

My heart pummels from my throat to the pit of my stomach. My stomach churns.

I suppress the nausea and push through the defeat, determined to make the best of this chance, before anyone realizes their mistake of leaving me alone and returns to check up on me.

My eyes trail the open space of the garage, coming across a patch in the wall in the far corner of the room, where the light grey paint looks uneven and a hint of a shade darker than the rest of the walls.

I shoot up from my spot on the floor next to the gate and cross the open space in three long strides, before finding myself right in front of what looks to be a panel, upon closer inspection.

I run my free hand, the one not busy clutching my sneakers in a steel grip, over the wall in search of a latch or a button or anything else that might make the panel pop open. When nothing happens I withdraw, taking one step back and inspecting the wall around it.

Still nothing.

Then, in a final desperate attempt, I bang the ends of my shoes against the panel, at the very least hoping to dent it, when the panel pops upon, revealing an array of switches.

Without hesitations or second thoughts I start flipping each and every one of them, hoping for a miracle.

With the flick of one the lights in the garage goes dark, with another a churn of the air-condition sparks up. It continues like that; every new switch turning stopping or starting some meaningless process, until finally, the last switch I hit in the bottom left corner of the panel, starts the mechanical turning of the gate behind me.

I turn on my heel and rush towards the door, not caring that I'm still only wearing my socks, as I dug beneath the rising gate and make it out into the driveway of the brownstone.

Without a single glance back, I set off into a sprint, heading right at the end of the driveway where it connects to the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of where I watched Justin's car disappear with the rest. 

AN: don't forget to click that vote button if you're just as excited as me to find out what's going to happen to Spencer!x