The Horror Behind the Dome | A BBIEAL Fanfiction |

2

       Droplets pounded on the windows of his vehicle, each growing louder than the last until it was almost deafening. Mr.Baldimore turned down his music till it was off completely, knowing that his ears would surely suffer should there be more sound in the area. He enjoyed the rain but hated it when it stormed, way too much sound. It was bad enough that he knew there'd be even more waiting for him back at home, he'd kill for even an hour of pure silence and nothing more.

       Rolling up to his abode, he stopped the car and gazed at the garage door, illuminated by his headlights. He clicked it off and parked, stepping out and looking up at his home. He found it hard to believe that, just a few years ago, this house was a safe spot that he lived in alone. He didn't have anyone to worry about and he could have a moment to breathe after work. He sighed, recalling how he fucked it up by insisting on meeting new people, on getting attached to someone that'd wind up being a wolf in maiden's clothing. He figured he had no one but himself to blame for everything. However, he had a few brief ideas on how he could fix it, if he could fix it. Once your mind gets wrapped up over everything that's happened, your mind starts to search for openings.

      Trudging his way to the heavily worn stairs of concrete and wood, he unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. The inside was dark and there was a coffee table knocked on it's side in the middle of his field of view. Upon closer inspection, it seems that the old fruit bowl had been reduced to nothing more than scattered remains of a ceramic base.  Shame really, it lasted a few years and a few tumbles. The house was too quiet, it wasn't at all as comforting as it should've been. He knew full well that his wife was home and so was his son, it wasn't like them to be still at this hour. He felt frightened as he journeyed over to the living room to investigate.

       As usual, furniture was out of place and the room as a whole was in disarray. He can't recall just how many times he had been forced to put things back in place by himself while being screamed at by the very culprits that did the deed, almost as if Baldimore was the one who committed such an atrocity. His drained expression twisted into a slight scowl at the mere thought, figuring that he at least deserved better than all this. He'd give the leech a piece of his mind, he'd....

      No, he'd done it before. After all, one man could only take so much. All that he'd be met with would be more screaming and even physical violence, perhaps being kicked out for the 5th time in the past 3 months. Unless he were to do something that'd force her to cease any attack, anything for that matter. All the man wanted was to catch a break from this seemingly endless cycle of misery and pain, just  silence and stillness. It didn't even have to spark joy, just a moment where nothing happened at all.

      A thought poked into his twisted mind and he grabbed the knife sharpener, heading to his car. "A sharpened ruler-", he thought, "-shalln't cause the serpent to fall but should bring about small wounds. Just enough to get it to listen for one damn moment."

     And so, bringing the slick ruler's edge to it, he began sharpening. Despite all, his mind was blank as he did so as to not distract himself. Once he'd finish, he went back inside and held his weapon close as if he were a child that was forced to defend against an intruder while home alone. He was no child, and, these were not intruders, but parasites that he had unknowingly let inside his home. Considering all this, it only made things worse on his mind.

     His footsteps echoed as he walked, the corridor around him becoming warped and appearing longer due to his fear and hesitation. The hall was all the same, yes, but every night it either seemed longer or harsher, enough to send one down a spiral of shame. The bathroom light was the only thing that outlined his destination. Respectively, he knocked.

     No answer.

      And so, he turned the knob and opened it only to be greeted by a horrendous display. The bright light above appeared to sharpen every detail down to the very molecular structure as it flickered in an irregular pattern, shadows swaying slightly to and fro as the bulb itself gently shook from a previous disturbance. Some black substance was drying and clotting on the tiles, dripping from the tub. On the rim of the tub was a spoon, syringe, and rubber band. Hanging in the air was a sour stench of vinegar and some faint chemical. On the floor was his wife, Susan, legs up to her chest and eyes wide. Her face was worn to the point it might as well have been a skeleton.

      Her head snapped up to look at Baldimore. "You..." She promptly stood and marched her way over to the lanky man in the doorway.

      Baldimore stepped back, gripping the ruler. "Back, back I say!"

     "You fucking piece of shit!" She leapt at him like a feral rodent, teeth set to kill.

      He wasted no time, he immediately swung the ruler at her and stepped off to the side. When she pulled herself up, there was a deep cut in her cheek, slowly bleeding out. The mere sight made him sick, he wanted to vomit. He held a hand up to his mouth, choking back any sound or substance that might've wanted to escape. He began to tremble, fear and anger mostly. "S-Susan, please- think about what you're doing for fucks sake!"

      "Oh! So you're allowed to not think but I have to? I'll fucking kill you!"

      "Susan, you're not making any damned sen-" He was interrupted by another attack, ducking to avoid her limp swing but it was no use, he was at a dead end and cornered between the wall and the bathroom doorway. She grabbed him by the collar of his sweater with one hand before using the other to choke him, dirty nails digging into his skin.

      At this point, it was her or him. With great haste, he turned the ruler and slashed as frantically as he could, using the sharp edge. He didn't stop there, he kept going. "I told you to stay away!" He screamed in anguish. "But you kept fucking insisting!" His ruler hit her with every word, his vision mostly a blur until she finally stopped moving.

     It's a common thing for an observer to claim that, "Several motions of attack doesn't scream 'I don't wanna die', instead it implies 'I know you're gonna die'." Which isn't always true unless the circumstances were blurred or simply not there. In this case, it was all too clear what happened. He knew what he did and immediately feared the worse. And so, he called the police.

       "H-hello?... y-yes... I... I came home, my wife was making a drug of some sort in the bathroom, and she leapt at me trying t-to strangle me... a-attack me..." His voice was shaky. "I-I... Sh-she's down... I dunno if I killed her or not but she's down... I-I haven't heard my son in the house... I haven't looked yet..."

       Oh no... his son...

      "My s-" He interrupted himself and quickly went to Andrew's room. By the time he opened the door, it dawned on him that he was too late. He was on the floor, an uncapped pill bottle just inches away from his hand and some bagged crystals on the desk. Of course, she couldn't just bring herself down, but she brought a mere child with her as well.

     He and Andrew didn't have the best relationship, no, but any chance that he had to help him was ripped away in his absence.

    "DAMN HER!" He screeched, falling to his knees. He didn't care about his wife, he mainly was bothered by the fact he probably killed her. He didn't want any of this.

    At least things will be significantly quieter....