Devil In A White Dress

Thirty-Five

Timothy got back home feeling cornered with clouds of devastation. At approximately 1:35, the kid crept through the door to his own home as though he had planned a fast robbery. The fear mainly had to do with his idiot big brother. Careful, Timo. He could pull another fast one on us. He wondered what shenanigan Austin had in stall for him this time.

Maybe dress up as the woman in WHITE and have red toothpaste over his mouth and an axe in his left hand. Or maybe faked a suicide in order to cause an alarm. Austin was evil as he was unpredictable. Anything could happen but Timothy was smarter than his idiotic brother or naïve sister. He took deep inhales and exhales before entering his home, ready to fully embrace the attack of either Austin or the woman in WHITE, but only Carl, his four-legged bestfriend came rushing to welcome him.

He licked the tension and anxiety that crawled on Timothy's skin as he rolled over expecting tickles from his friend. When the hands had gone to work, Jenny Louise's dead body illuminated. What a day for a thirteen-year old boy whose classmates had just been killed in a planned and executed accident. Jenny's corpse looking at him at broad daylight. Woman in WHITE dress smiling with blood on her face in the dark night. Whatever the cost or how tiring it was going to be, Timothy's desire was to just kill these images in his head.

One but two nightmares had been enough. He rushed over to the kitchen wardrobes and grabbed the cereal bowl and took Cheerios from the fridge. A bottle of wine had caught his attention. Did he have to drink to forget the horror he had just witnessed? His left hand grabbed the bottle and hastened to crack it open. Just one sip wouldn't do harm, he thought. Carl diverted his attention immediately, beckoning him towards the Attic.

Why? Timothy asked himself, why do I always have to go through this shit? With the wine bottle still in his grasp, the thirteen-year old ignored the animal and focused on getting the bottle opened. Carl barked again, urging for him to come look but flashes of woman in WHITE and dead Jenny's eyes wouldn't let him. "Shut up, Carl!", Timothy finally yelled to his furry friend. That didn't do anything either. Struggling to get the bottle opened, flashes of Jenny's eyes illuminated again.

For a split second, Timothy could imagine them moving left-to-right. Carl's barks cause more disturbance and frustration, so his body moves faster than his mind. The wine bottle is slammed against the edge of the table and tiny pieces scatter on Timothy's legs. He makes a mess and the trouble of having to face an angry Mr. and Mrs. Summers is conjured. Getting irritated by the pointless barking, Timothy quickly scrambles for the black rug but topples over one of the tiny ice cubes that lay melting on the tiled floor.

He falls with a loud thud, hurting himself with a massive impact that cracks open his forehead. Little trickles of blood starts spewing before his hands scramble towards the top drawers for the First-Aid Kit. Dumb, Mrs. "short-term memory" Summers must have forgot and put it in the drinks cabinet behind the TV in the living room, he wondered. His eyes caught sight of the box near the front window where the Sunlight curtains were blowing. It looked like the sharp pain had done the job of making him forget the two horrible nightmares.

Carl's barking got more annoying and inflicted pain on the wound. After sweeping the tiny pieces of glass, Timothy races to the living room to turn on the KN. News station on TV, worrying about the dead kids from the party. Nothing but reports of Uber drivers kidnapping underage girls, celebrity fights at nightclub fiascos and other boring news that no one in the world of young teens gave a damn about. No slaughtering of kids.

No bus driver killed incident or students dying in the accident. Timothy felt relief, because he wanted to forget any of that ever happened. He switched on the Netflix to continue the eighth episode of "Blow". Those wonderful actresses wrestling themselves in those hot retro tights was such a turn on. The woman's beautiful blonde curly hair and slow-paced story of the episode soothed his mind, clearing out all the icky thoughts but just that ridiculous noise made by Carl kept spoiling the moment.

"Fuck!", Timothy curses while squeezing the towel with the cube pressed against the wound, "Fine! I'll check it out!"

Fear still paralyzing his insides, Timothy bravely hurled opened the door into the dark Attic. He ventured, light bulb switched on and emotions being mixed in his head. For the first time, his heart refuses to skip three beats as he walks past the numerous boxes of vintage cassettes, tape recorders, knockouts and Halloween costumes to see what Carl was directing him towards.

Carl screeched on the walls which had been covered with black tar and grease. When Timothy went closer, his fear had turned into a marvel.