I felt different when I woke up, greeted by the welcoming committee of rotted wood and faded shades of gray. It didn't hit me until now; normalcy was gone and getting it back was in serious question. Now was supposed to be the time to reflect on my family, to enjoy their memory of our time spent together, but there was nothing.
Only a solitary orphanage ready to shut its failing gates. I was nineteen, too old to be provided for any longer, and I was lucky enough to have been there at all. The only thing I had to reflect on was the comfort of its brick walls. It was home and I wanted to be there.
I was unsure if Michael were still around and I wasn't going to take a chance and peer through the cracks of the door. It was a pointless fear, what could they do to me if they caught me looking outside, but I was drawn away from that idea when I saw the usual shadow block the light at the bottom of it.
Either I was so focused on my thoughts or he was just really quiet, but his footsteps were absent. The handle turned slowly but the door swung open, almost striking me as it hit the wall with a loud thud. I cringed back but tried to keep my composure, telling myself nothing was going to happen, lying basically.
From what I could tell, it was morning, maybe early around seven. It didn't matter to me, time wasn't as important as it was. To my relief, and horror, it was Garrett standing in the doorway. His eyes stared past me, focused on the wall that his shadow was cast on. I could see his chest rise and fall, shaky but not heavy. Something was on his mind and I had a feeling I was going to hear about it.
The door shut on its own when he gently swayed it back. He had another mug this time and he roughly shoved the hot cup toward me, gesturing for me to take it without question. He seemed on edge so without wanting to upset him, I wrapped my cold fingers around the warmth of the cup and went to take a drink when he stopped me.
Garrett stood close again, just like before, and I waited for him to take the mug back and do the same spiel he did before. Instead, his slender fingers pulled the mug back by its rim, dragging it closer to him while I still held onto it like my life depended on it.
He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, sighing, grieving almost. I didn't object, didn't have it in me, so I calmly watched him, sitting stiller than I ever had. I was tense but I started to worry when he went to unsheathe the blade around his waist. I drew my eyebrows together, almost in a glare, confused as to why he would need his knife for my drink.
He stuck out his arm, rolling up his sleeve and positioning his pale wrist over the drink. No, no. No matter what, I wasn't going to drink his sick concoction of what he called hot chocolate. In a strange movement, I slid the mug out of his path, sending him a confused look, a challenging one. He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment and returning his exposed arm to his side, "Don't do this to me, Emma."
I scoffed, "Really? You ruin my first drink and now you want me to drink your blo-"
"I don't care what you want, " he interrupted me faster than I thought he would and continued with the same calm composure, but I knew I struck a nerve, "Have you ever gave one thought to what I want? What I've always wanted?"
I let him talk, keeping my loud mouth shut. I managed to set the mug down without him noticing, "I've loved you and I love you now. If you don't do this, I can't keep you here." His voice seemed distant and my breathing grew shaky. He was either crazy or he was about to reveal a big secret.
"What are you talking about...?"
YOU ARE READING
Phasmophobia
Short Story*archived | written long ago* I was kidnapped. I didn't ask why. He never told me. I don't know him but he knows me. Now, he has me and he tells me he'll love me. Always and forever.
