About an hour later, thanks in part to Michaela's Dad taking a wrong turn amidst a playfully heated debate with his wife over the validity of pineapple as a pizza topping, the Montrose family arrived home with enough food to feed seven people, as opposed to just the three of them.
Even as the pineapple debate naturally escalated and evolved into the consideration of olives and their validity under the same criteria, Michaela couldn't help but find herself feeling lost in thought, zoning out into her own world, while occasionally providing a soft chuckle to falsely imply she was listening.
While she was emotionally and physically exhausted from the day in general, her mind was still racing with what she had thought happened in the basement of the Church, but couldn't have possibly been true.
The residual feelings of the fear and anxiety that had been induced by the purity of the darkness flashed through her mind, reminding her of the shameful and cowardly way she had frozen when the darkness had eventually begun its pursuit.
Even after she had excused herself for the night, retiring to her bedroom as her body screamed for its much-desired rest, the constant burden of her over-active mind kept her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, directly negating her body's willful intentions.
As she lay stubbornly awake in bed with her thoughts endlessly racing in circles, Michaela lifted her right hand and examined the odd ring that she had found on her index finger when she awoke in the empty Chapel.
It would all have been so easy to dismiss as a tension-ridden nightmare, were it not for this singular piece of tangible evidence that was upon her finger.
Is it really possible? Michaela thought, Could this ring have come from my dream into reality?Had it actually been a dream to begin with?
For a moment, Michaela considered how her Abuela had visited her on the eve of her passing, blurring the lines of what was real or even possible, and how every moment since then had seemed to come with its own moment of contemplation as the constantly shifting sands of Michaela's perception made her wonder what the word 'reality' even meant anymore.
Visits from dead relatives was one thing, after all, generations of people had claimed to have similar experiences over the history of humankind. Whether there was legitimacy to their claims, or simply wishful thinking, this damned ring was something else altogether, and it was far more upsetting in nature; not only in regards to the method of its procurement, but the fact that it remained upon her finger even now in the waking world, haunting her with memories of what may, or may not, have been.
The longer Michaela stared at the odd design carved into the ring, the more she thought back to how this object had seemed to 'call' to her, coercing her through peak states of fear, panic, and frustration, as though this inanimate object's will was stronger than her most visceral of instincts.
What was even more troublesome than the mere presence of the ring though was how it refused to be removed.
On the car ride home, right around the time that the first shot was fired in the great pineapple debate, Michaela had sat in the backseat, quietly trying to remove the ring from her finger, only to find that despite its oddly convenient, tailor-made fit, it wouldn't budge.
Even as Michaela's Mom had launched into her well-structured diatribe about Pizza being a specifically savory dish since its inception (also the moment that Adwin had taken a wrong turn that led down a rural road to nowhere), Michaela had secretly attempted to use her own saliva to lubricate the removal of the ring, but still to no avail.
Even by the time they had pulled up to 'Pascal's Pizzeria', Michaela had been yanking and pulling on the ring so long, it felt as though if she pulled any harder she would either pop her index finger out of its socket, or rip the digit clean off her hand.
Finally surrendering her efforts, Michaela stared out the back window of the car and thought back to the cylindrical prison in which she had found herself prior to making the conscious decision to put this stupid thing on her hand in the first place.
What were you thinking? Michaela asked herself before flashing back to how, at the time the ring had been placed upon her finger, it felt as though her actions were out of her control, like she was merely a chess piece in someone else's game. Reflecting on that moment of involuntary decisions, Michaela's mind shifted, were you even thinking?
Suddenly, a knock on Michaela's bedroom door launched her back into the present moment as she turned her head and saw her parents entering without an invitation, as always.
Michaela's Dad was the first to break the silence, softly inquiring, "How you holding up, kiddo?"
Michaela merely responded with a single nod.
While Adwin and Isabella seemed to read the lack of response as a statement of sadness, in actual fact it was merely a blanket response because Michaela had barely even heard his inquiry amidst all of the distractions of her mind.
Approaching the bed, Michaela's Mom sat at the foot of the mattress, unknowingly in the exact spot that the spirit of her own Mother had sat a few nights prior.
Taking a deep breath, Isabella tried to settle on a softer tone, "I know today was tough. It was difficult for all of us,"
Placing a hand on his wife's shoulder as a show of support, Michaela's Father then chimed in, "but we're here for you any time you need us."
Breaking from her trance-like state, Michaela turned to her Parents with a look of sincerity, before saying, "I know. The same goes to you guys, too."
Isabella smiled softly, with a somewhat insulting, 'isn't that cute' look in her eye, "That's very kind of you to say, sweetheart."
Michaela piped up, trying to assert herself against her Mom's empty acceptance of the offer, "I mean it. I can handle it this kind of stuff. I'm not a kid anymore."
A somewhat patronizing smile crossed Michaela's Dad's face, as his voice took on the tone he had used a few days prior, the one that made her feel five years-old,
"Listen Kiddo. We know you're at that age where you're starting to see the world for what it is, and we're not only supportive, but we're proud of you starting to form your own opinions. After all, your mind and body are blossoming in tandem right now, transforming you into a strong, independent, young wom--"
Before Adwin could finish his motivational patronization, his eyes glistened with wetness as his lip started quivering towards the mere prospect of acknowledging his little girl was growing up.
Whether it was his inability to reach his point before the emotions took over, or the mere surprise that there were any tears left in him to begin with, Michaela looked to her Mom so they could share a simultaneous, yet secretive eye roll in response.
Seconds later, Michaela's Mom leaned in to say goodnight, but as she kissed Michaela on the forehead, Isabella suddenly pulled back a few inches with a look of concern on her face, as she asked, "Michaela, are you feeling alright?"
Confused, Michaela plainly stated, "Yeah. Why?"
Placing her hand on Michaela's forehead and then her cheeks, Isabella's sense of worry continued to swell, "Oh honey, you're burning up."
Michaela was quick to dismiss her Mother's concern, "Well, I feel fine. Maybe a little tired, is all."
Giving the same lingering stare that that she used when she tried to sniff out a lie, Isabella watched Michaela's body language like a card shark looking for a tell, but her daughter remained confident in her self-assessment, with raised eyebrows and an unwavering stare.
Still concerned, Isabella rose from the edge of the mattress, clearing a path for Michaela's Dad to lean in and check Michaela's temperature for himself, before saying, "Doesn't feel too bad to me. I'll be sure to make you some Ginger and Honey Tea before school tomorrow," he then kissed her on the top of her head before adding, "Night, kiddo."
Eager for sleep while choosing not to comment on the persistent title of 'kiddo', let alone the fact that Ginger and Honey tea was more for a sore throat than a fever, Michaela quietly yawned out, "G'night" before her parents exited the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind them, leaving Michaela to return to her endlessly churning thoughts.
Still weighing her concept of reality vs. the projections of her subconscious, Michaela continued staring at the silver ring upon her index finger, tracing her fingernail over its odd design, admiring the way it seemed to catch the glow of the moonlight that was sneaking into her room between the curtains.
Whether it was the sudden emotional shift to a place of embracing the beauty of this item, or perhaps a similar false sense of security to the one she had felt as the stone chamber began to collapse around her, either way Michaela soon felt her eyelids getting heavy as she began to drift from the waking world.
With her consciousness slowly slipping away and her body plummeting towards the restful state it had been seeking all day, one last thought passed through Michaela's stubborn mind as her body sunk into the mattress, and she faded off to sleep, it's just a stupid ring... right?
* * *
Michaela soon found herself standing in the abandoned, rotting Sunday school hallways, where the path forked off into two directions.
Staring into the abyss of the darkness, as she had before, Michaela could feel the penetrating stare of whatever was concealing itself from her, only this time she could actually hear the darkness shifting in front of her, breathing steadily, as though it were standing mere inches in front of her.
Michaela felt the instinct to run, and could even hear her brain telling her body to do so, but no matter how hard she tried, her body refused to comply, keeping her feet in place like they had been nailed to the rotted linoleum floor.
It was in that moment, Michaela suddenly felt more eyes upon her, these ones not coming from within the darkness, but from some sort of new presence on her left that had not been there moments before.
As for how this other entity had appeared so stealthily, Michaela was unsure, and while she was desperately terrified to look, she couldn't fight the compulsion when it finally called out to her, screaming, "Hey Freak!" in an odd, distorted tone.
Turning her head, she saw the Barbies standing in a small mob with Steph Cabott standing in front, blocking Michaela's path as they glared at her with vicious intent.
The longer that Michalea stared at them though, the more she began to realize that there was something 'off' about this dark iteration of the girls that made her life a living Hell. Their powder pink garments seemed dirtier than normal, stained with dirt, tar and what looked like blood. Their eyes were darker somehow, not only in their jet-black physical composition, but in the intent behind them as well.
Then all at once, it became crystal clear to Michaela... these girls aren't here to fight me; they're here to kill me.
As Michaela's sense of dread grew within her, she soon felt another set of eyes upon her, this time coming from the opposite direction, yet the approach of this creature was far less silent in nature.
Making no effort to silence the sounds of slimy, gyrating movements as it made its approach, the creature spoke in its own distorted yet familiar, disapproving tone, "Miss Montrose."
Whipping her head in the direction of this new entity, Michaela now found herself staring at a dark iteration of the Abominable Montez.
While the principal that Michaela had grown to despise was large enough on her own, this dark reflection of that horrible woman was taking up the majority of the width of the hallway, waddling in her approach, like an inflated cartoon, or a half-human blimp.
For a moment, Michaela found slight humor in the way that 'Principal Non-tez' was moving, but that levity was immediately cut short when she saw a similar evil intent in this creature's dark eyes.
The Monstrous Montez must have sensed Michaela's sudden wave of panic as it then smiled at her, revealing rows upon rows of jagged teeth, sawing back and forth in anticipation of consuming the human in front of her.
As the smile on this dark figure's face continued to stretch to an impossible width, her body seemed to rise into the air ever so slightly, revealing the twisted, bloodstained tentacles that were unraveling beneath her.
Hyper-aware of how quickly she was being surrounded, Michaela flipped back towards where the Dark Barbies had stood mere moments ago, only to find herself staring into the non-descript face of a large, fleshy mass in their place.
Solely judging by the level of gore displayed upon the creature's exterior, Michaela safely assumed the gang of Barbies had been turned inside out before merging together into this grotesque amoeba with countless black eyes all blinking out of sync so as to never lose sight of its prey.
With nowhere else to go, Michaela turned towards the darkness in front of her, the source of all the fear and panic that she had felt prior, and before the thought had even finished passing through her mind, she began running full-tilt towards it.
As she did so, the Godless creatures on either side of Michaela pounced half a second too late, narrowly missing their prey and colliding in a chorus of horrific sounds of heavy, flesh masses smacking into one another as they scrambled to right themselves and continue their pursuit.
In spite of the pure darkness that surrounded her, Michaela merely trusted that the ground would be there under her feet as she kept sprinting as far and as fast as she could into the unknown.
Behind her, Michaela could hear the grotesque creatures twisting and churning over one another, battling for dominance within the narrow space as they screamed terrifying, blood-thirsty cries of rage and frustration after the evasive prey.
Moments later, the monsters' screams faded to silence behind her, either due to the distance between them, or that they had merely surrendered their efforts.
Either way, Michaela continued running until her body refused to exert itself any further, forcing her to slow her pace, stop, and catch her breath as her leg muscles screamed in protest towards even the mere idea of further effort.
With no idea where she was, or where she was going, Michaela spun in circles, searching for any semblance of light to guide her, but finding none. Seconds later, she realized the error in her approach as she suddenly lost track of the direction she had even come from.
Whether it was the quickly swelling wave of intensely panicked disorientation, or merely her apparent fever that had crossed from the waking world into her dream-state, Michaela soon felt unbearably warm all over, as if the darkness itself was permeating its own form of radiating heat.
It was in that moment Michaela felt something moving at her feet, quickly and fluidly sliding over the toe of her sneaker, like a small serpent or lizard.
Reaching down to where she had felt the sensation, she found nothing at first; save for the feeling of the damp, linoleum floor she was standing on, and the horribly familiar smell of decades-old rot, now amplified by this increasingly oppressive heat.
Just then, Michaela thought she heard something move behind her. Not footsteps per say, but the sound of something shifting, smoothly, quietly, as if it were stealthily calculating its attack.
Holding her breath to listen more intently, Michaela tried to source the distance of the noise to her position, but before she was able to, something suddenly wrapped around her leg tightly... too tightly.
Whatever it was, it almost felt like slimy muscle tissue, but it moved with the quickness of a whip and gripped her with the force of a hangman's noose.
Seconds later, another tendril wrapped around her other leg, then two more, holding her arms down, pulling Michaela to her knees before one final tendril wrapped itself around her forehead, tilting her head back as it split and spread around her chin to force her mouth open against her will.
The fluorescent lights above Michaela suddenly powered on, flickering in the same manner as their more functional counterparts from the dimly lit portion of the hallway.
From her restrained state, Michaela saw this portion of the hallway was rotted beyond anything she had seen so far.
Black mold was climbing up and down the walls, in vine-like patterns; spreading from both the floor that seemed to be covered in a layer of cold, damp tar-water, and the ceiling that resembled more of a cave than the corkboard tiles that had once held the space between the light fixtures.
Tracing her eyes over the dripping ceiling above, Michaela's limited gaze fell upon what she thought was a large, black stalactite, positioned directly over her.
That was... until the stalactite started gently pulsing from within.
As the suspended creature's movements became more pronounced, Michaela could see what appeared to be some sort of mouth at its tip, slowly dilating as it dripped with the same tar-like substance that coated the floors.
The way in which the mouth of the creature began to blindly waver back and forth in the air, almost made it seem as though it was sniffing out whatever prey it had just snared.
Upon locating Michaela's position, the conical creature's movements suddenly shifted, the pulsations becoming even more violent in nature until it looked as though it was dry heaving.
Before Michaela had the good sense to close her eyes, the creature suddenly spewed out a tidal wave of its thick, dark fluid, dousing Michaela from head to toe, filling her eyes, ears, nose and mouth, covering every inch of her body.
Michaela choked on the putrid substance, and she could feel it slowly travelling through her sinuses, down the back of her throat, coating her esophagus, lungs, and internal organs, filling every inch of her body with a rotten, burning sensation.
Instinctually, Michaela's body tried to reject the substance by way of her own wave of dry heaving and vomiting to no avail, and by the time the onslaught of thick fluid had finally concluded, Michaela could feel a swelling tightness in her knees.
As the dark tendril that was wrapped around her forehead finally released, Michaela looked down to see the fluid that had just invaded her body was now leaking out from her kneecaps, seeping from the pores of her skin, only to pool in front of her before stretching itself vertically to match her kneeling height.
As Michaela stared into the darkness of the sentient fluid in front of her, she thought she saw her own reflection looking back, until she realized it wasn't a reflection at all; it was a carbon copy of her face, taking form right in front of her.
Somehow, this fluid was duplicating her, creating a dark, mirror image of her form, and matching every aspect of her body's position, except of course for the tendrils that held the real Michaela in place.
As Michaela's dark reflection finished taking its form, it stared at her with a dark sense of mischief in its eyes, gently tilting its head to the side to examine Michaela with scrutiny.
It was only half a second after this dark copy had flashed a dark smile that Michaela defenselessly watched it pounce towards her with ferocious intent.
* * *
Bolting upright in bed, Michaela catapulted back into her conscious state, drenched in her own sweat and gasping for air.
Throwing back her thick duvet, she took a moment to catch her breath and slow her racing heart as she scanned her room, lit only by the November moonlight.
Still terrified that this world could turn against her at any minute, as it had in her dream, Michaela slowly tried to ease herself back into a somewhat-comforting state of reality.
Yet still, in the back of her mind, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of the darkness watching her, its piercing gaze somehow carrying over into this world.
Cautiously panning back and forth over her room with a look of suspicion, Michaela tried to quell her paranoia, reminding herself that, despite all evidence to the contrary, she was not going crazy.
You're not seeing things, you're dreaming them, Michaela thought, you just had a very convincing, twisted dream, after an absolute shit-show couple of days. So stop acting like a Goddamned child, and just go to sleep!
After a few more moments of self-induced tough love, Michaela had successfully coerced her mind to quiet itself long enough for her body's exhaustion take the lead.
Quietly, Michaela slipped back under her blankets, rested her head on the thick pillow as she let her eyes gently close once more.
Slipping out of her state of wakefulness, the voice in the back of her mind kept quietly nagging at her, asking, 'If the ring came through to this side, what else could have?' but Michaela was quick to hush the paranoid whispers of her tired imagination, repeating to herself, stop being a baby.
Seconds later, Michaela slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.
Had she stayed awake for merely one moment longer, she might have heard the sound of something shifting in the corner of her room, amidst the darkness.