--XIII--
Lindsay did not seem to be convinced when I said I was going to be fine. Carter wasn't talking to me either. Most of all, Vincent and Miss Cruz—the two people I expected to be my knights in shining armor turned out to be the villains. They wouldn't talk to me either. They wouldn't even look at me.
Some cult people they were. If they were so short on recruitment, they could've at least made my life a wee bit easier. I might've even considered joining them.
Not.
For the last hour, I had done nothing but stare at the piece of paper Vincent left me when I was in the hospital. I crumpled it and shoved it inside my jacket pocket with a sigh.
There was no way, I would come with them. Dad was finally getting better. He was writing again and he didn't go out on his nightly expeditions anymore. The most promising thing was that he would occasionally make little efforts to talk to me, which was an all-time high. Maybe he was starting to believe the rumors in school that I was trying to kill myself. And because of that, he felt sorry for me.
After my latest attempt to jump from the top floor of the school building, who could blame him?
However, the lapses in my memory were getting out of control. Most of the time, I would find myself in school when I didn't remember getting up from bed. Sometimes, I would open my eyes just to find that I was standing on the rooftop of the school building without any memory of getting there. Once, there was a night when I woke up walking aimlessly and barefooted in the dark empty road.
Something in me wanted to go someplace. I just didn't know where.
Then it happened.
It was supposed to be a calm night with the star-studded night sky being dimly lit by the waning moon. Cricket noises filled the air, the tea kettle hissing on the stove as the water boiled. Dad was in front of his laptop, his fingers tapping hastily on the keyboard.
I stared at the oven, folded an arm on the table and rested my chin on it. My eyes felt so heavy. These days, I always felt sleepy, drained. I decided to rest my eyes for a couple of minutes. It would take half an hour more and the chicken will be done...
My eyes flew open.
Did I burn the chicken? How long did I doze off?
I was already in my room, feeling faint.
My forehead crumpled. I was totally clueless as to how I got there.
I tried to listen around me. It was eerily quiet and it felt like my lids wouldn't stay open no matter how I willed myself to stay awake. All I could make out was the clock on the wall. It read 12:01.
My eyes drooped against my will, letting me get lost in a deep sleep.
Next thing I knew, I was standing in the afternoon rain. The white frilly dress I was wearing clung to my body, the cold making me shiver. I looked around. I was alone in a vast garden full of red roses and white lilies.
As I stepped forward, my bare feet sloshed against the sodden ground underneath the sheet of carefully trimmed grass. That was when I heard someone call my name. When I lifted my gaze, I saw familiar faces—Carter, Lindsay, a few of my classmates and teachers. Dad was there too. And all of them wore black.
"It's time," a familiar voice said from behind me.
My head whipped to the source of the voice and saw Vincent Sinclair standing in front of me with his hand outstretched. He looked exceptionally dashing in a black tux with crimson accents. That had me wondering what the occasion was.
Willingly, I placed my hand over his. I wanted to ask him where we were headed to, but my mouth wouldn't open.
Gently, he towed me forward to where my dad and all the others waited for me. As Vincent and I approached, they stood aside, making way for us.
At the end of the garden was a long table full of flowers.
Vincent's pale eyes briefly lingered on my face before he waved his hand toward the table.
Slowly, I proceeded, realizing that the table was no table at all. It was a bed and someone was lying in it. I stumbled back, losing my balance. Someone caught me by the arms and I was almost sure it was Vincent, but when I peered over my shoulder, I saw a faceless man in a hooded cloak. Underneath the shadow of his hood, all I could distinguish was the pair of pale gun-metallic eyes that burned holes through my skull.
A cry escaped out of my mouth as I backed away from the strange man. I tripped over and fell at the side of the bed of flowers, a lump catching in my throat when I recognized who was lying in there pale-faced, eyes closed peacefully, half-buried in loose petals.
It was me.
Among the crowd, someone stood up and called out to me. I saw Lindsay's mom in a black dress, a black fishnet veil covering her teary eyes.
"Don't crossover," said she, her voice trembling with conviction. "Do not let go of your soul, or it will be the end of everything! Do not let go! Find him, Aramis! Find your master!"
After a while, my feet jerked, waking me. It felt like I have just fallen from the top of a tall building.
My heart raced frantically, ramming against my chest, making it harder to breathe. I knew it was a dream but that didn't make me any less scared.
Before I opened my eyes, I smelled something off, like something rotten with a hint of rust. The acrid smell wafted to my nose and I heard heavy breaths again coming closer and closer.
I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't even move.
Something wiry fell on my face, like a bunch of brittle, loose threads. I shut my eyes tighter, stifling a cry. Then I felt something warm and thick dripped on my forehead. It smelled like rust. My stomach lurched when heavy putrid breaths played on my cheek.
The sound of chattering teeth filled the air and that made me open my eyes. A pair of hollow sockets stared back at me, locks of filthy, grime-encrusted hair falling on my face. Blood trickled down to my face. A ghastly skeletal face was just a couple of inches away from me.
A desperate scream left my mouth, tearing through the silence of the whole house.
"Dad! DAD!!!" I kept screaming.
A creature with the figure of a woman slowly materialized on top of me. She pressed a lipless set of gray teeth onto my face, causing my insides to do a slow roll. Effortlessly, she pinned me with her emaciated body.
I was in panic, thrashing my limbs to pry myself loose of her. The sickening smell made me nauseous, making it hard to breathe. I screamed for help again and hoped the strange voice inside me would make my hand a claw again. Like what happened last time. The claw saved me once. I could do it again... probably. Hopefully.
"Get off! Get off!!!" I cried, lashing my arms but I might as well be beating a concrete wall.
The woman-creature just answered with the chattering of her rotten teeth.
"Dad!"
No answer.
"VINCENT!!!" I shouted with all the effort I could muster hoping he was standing outside the house like all the other previous nights, ready to bust into my window and help me.
No help came.
Just now, I regretted making him go away. My eyes darted to the walls, then, to the ceiling. Several dark figures hovered there, shrieking, gnashing their half-sewn mouths. Their bodies were like filmy cloaks with dark wriggling things on them. Most of them did not have eyes but their killing intent seemed to bore into my skull like rusty screws.
They were the same creatures I saw in the hospital that time Vincent showed me that contract.
Mine! No mine! Mine!!! I heard them hiss at each other.
At last, the door opened with an ominous creak. From the darkness, I could see Dad holding a big kitchen knife. Relief washed over me only to be replaced by dread when one of the ghastly creatures hovered around him. Its skeletal hand draped over his shoulder as he stepped cautiously toward me.
"Dad! Help!"
Without a word, he clutched the knife with both hands and lifted it over his head.
The creature pinning me down grinned malevolently and shot up to the ceiling. At first I thought the knife was for the she-monster, but even as she got off me, Dad kept pointing the knife at me.
"Demon!" he yelled, before he thrust it towards me.
I rolled out of bed, barely avoiding the blow. The knife was already half-impaled in the mattress. If I hadn't moved, I was in no doubt that that knife would be in my chest.
"Dad? What are you—" I tried to say but he was already wrenching the knife off the cushion and when he did, brandished it to my direction.
It was crystal clear. Dad was trying to kill me.
I skirted behind my bed as he prodded the blade toward my left shoulder and ducked when he tried to hack my neck with it.
Dad's eyes were glassy and blank. Mindlessly, he blindly slashed the air a few inches shy of my face.
I managed to snatch a pillow and used it as a shield when he lunged at my direction. The knife tore through the pillow and pierced through my left shoulder. Though the wound wasn't too deep, blood gushed out uncontrollably.
Wincing, I used all my force to heave Dad away from me, tripping him with my foot. He groaned, stumbling onto the floor.
White fluff flew everywhere, obscuring my view. Seeing the chance to escape, I darted past him to the stairs. I took two steps at a time down to the living room with all intent of getting out of the house. Before I reached the door, I saw the keys of Dad's truck sitting on the coffee table.
"Come here, Demon!" Dad yelled as he stumbled down the stairs.
I raced to the table, grabbed the keys and my jacket that was conveniently sprawled on the sofa. When I turned for the door, a knife was already pointed at my throat.
I gulped. "D-dad? It's me..."
"Give me back my daughter, you demon!" he growled, about to stab me again. But for a moment, a hint of hesitation flashed through his eyes. Dad stared at the knife, then at me. The knife fell out of Dad's hand, clanging as it hit the floor. Then he fell to his knees staring at his own bloodied hands.
"Dad?" I called again.
I was about to approach him when he stiffened and snatched the knife from the floor. Again, he began slashing and hacking away at my direction. His eyes were vacant again, burning with killing intent.
Yes! Yes! The voices of the creatures rejoiced.
Dad sprung and nearly stabbed me on the neck which I barely avoided by throwing myself behind the couch. A sweltering pain shot from the stab wound in my right shoulder blade. More blood trickled down from it.
Frantically, I hobbled, heading for the door, pressing my jacket on the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. As soon as I got out, I toppled down a rack of tall wrought iron branding stakes Dad used as a decoration. It slowed him for a bit, but a few falls did not stop him from going after me.
I did a mad dash to the pick-up truck, fumbling with the keys before practically hauling myself into the cab as soon as I opened it. Praying under my breath, I started the engines.
A turbulent rumble signaled me to step on the gas pedal. The truck lurched forward with much impact I nearly banged my head onto the windshield. Then I focused on the rearview mirror as I maneuvered the truck out of the garage, into the driveway, then to the street.
When I took a quick glance, Dad was still running after me, barefooted, in his pajamas. The intense look on his eyes still frightened me though I knew he couldn't catch up.