A dark apartment stood alone on an empty highway. Beer bottles and cans could be seen in the grass and in the window. Only one car was parked in front of the crumbling building. The car was covered in dirt, faint lines of where someone once wrote wash me was also covered in dirt. All the wheels were flat and door was missing. The keys still sat in the ingestion with careless thought of who would take this vehicle. The apartment itself shone high and told a rich history of when it was in it’s prime. Now it’s just pleading to die.
A tired woman laid stretched out and still atop of a couch on the third floor, beer cans littered the floor around her. An unopened costume sat alone on top of the kitchen table. Silent tears fell down her face as she stared at her own hand in pure horror.
“I’m a horrible mother,” Alvani whispered harshly.
She clenched her hand, digging her nails into her palm till blood poured out. Just more scars to add to the collection on her body. Her hands ghosted over her body recalling how this was all her fault.
“No, not mine it was his,” She cried loudly and reached for another can trying in vain to keep at bay the persistent memories.
She was at her first high school party, she wasn't used to loud music and flashing lights so she hung out in a bedroom upstairs to give her head a rest.
Alvani pressed her the can to her lips her eyes shining looking so far away it’s untouchable.
She trusted him. After all, the were friends since preschool, they were even neighbors.
A small sob escaped Alvani. Her head was spinning so much, She took a large swig from her beer can.
His body screamed ‘I’m drunk’ as he passed the bed where she once sat. Again and again, he called her name beckoning her to come join his game of ‘fun’. She stayed still in that closet, hand over her mouth trying to silence her short shaky breaths.
Alvani slowly and unintentionally raised her hand once more to her lips.
His shadow passed over the closet and stopped. “Alvani,” he called out, She dared not speak to her her friend. She watched as the closet knob slowly turned. Her body to petrified to move.
Alavani slid further back back into the as shadow as the door slowly opened. The horrid breath told confirmed her suspicions and her doom. She was trapped like a dog in a cage. She said her first prayer, in that little closet, to any god that was listening. ‘Don’t let him see me,’
Her lips mouthed silent pleads over and over faster and faster but she never let her voice slip through. Never again. She already made that mistake.
His head snapped left. Their eyes locked. He saw her she saw him but she stayed still hoping that her prayer was answered and he was too drunk to see her. That maybe he could just black out and won't wake up until tomorrow. That just maybe he changed his mind.
“I see you,” he said.
She didn’t move. Her hand slowly slid to the right reaching, reaching for something, anything.
Alvani’s hand slowly extended down the couch. Determination and fright set upon those almond eyes.
He bent down and grabbed her forearm pulling her upwards. She screamed and kicked but he started to drag her out. It was useless this was a battle she was going to lose.
“Momma! Momma!” came to a soft cry from upstairs. Her son, that son that looked exactly like him. She took a small sip of her beer a small smile crossed her lips. Lyam’s cry kept the memories at bay. Lyam’s tears meant that at least some part of him was hurting.
“Momma! Momma save me,” Lyam wailed. He sat hunched over in the middle of the bed his green hair curtaining his eyes from the walls where unspeakable things danced in glee.
Some are short and fat that stood next to his nightstand just watching him. Others are tall and lanky standing in the corners. They all reached out and stared right through him.
“What are they looking at,” Lyam questioned.
Slowly he turned his head staring wide-eyed at the door that seemed all too far now.
A black, bone thin hand beckoned the boy to come hither. “Lyam,” whispered a voice so small he couldn’t help but wonder if any of this was real. It had to be real. It certainly felt real. The sweat drenching his flowery pajamas was enough proof for him.
“Leave Lyam. He’s coming. Leave run,” a voice from the closet spoke.
The hand continued to reach further and then slink back but only to continue forward. Back and forth, back and forth till it was a breath away to next to the door. The deformed figure played some sort of sick game until its deathly cold hand wrapped around the boys neck.The beasts all spoke at once, “Leave Lyam.”
“But what about my momma? I can’t just leave her here all alone,” Lyam choked out while his eyes quickly darted around the room. The monsters stayed still just watching always watching. A car passed his house, their lights lighting up his room making the shadows vanish. ‘Everything must have a fear,’ Lyam thought,’ The beasts are scared of the light just like how the light is scared of the beast.’ Lyam eyes darted back and forth from the light switch to a monster standing in a corner.
“What about your mother? She would be happier if you left,” a beast behind the curtains said while the hand slowly brushed its finger against the boys bruising cheek.
“No.nn..nnooo. You are wrong. You’re wrong. sh..She loves me. She just has to, she’s my mom. I just...i just mess up sometimes,” Lyam said with his voice getting softer and softer his eyes casted low.
A monotoned cackle was heard around the room. The little boy scrunched up farther into his bed only to have the hand tighten more around his neck.. “Please just go away. I’m a good boy. I don’t deserve this, go away. Go away!”
Lyam began to struggle he kicked into the air flailing his arms about willing to hit anything to make this stop. All rational thoughts flew out of his head and the hand tightened slightly around his neck. The cackle continued low and soft never wavering as though Lyam had told the greatest joke in history. Lyams eyes slowly drooped down and his breaths came out short. He gradually stopped flailing instead making short jerky movements. He recalled a story his teacher once read to him, about how at the end your life if you see a light you go to heaven. He couldn’t help but wonder,”Will I see a light?”
Lyam opened his eyes wide, staring at his last hope, the light switch. With renewed vigor, he fought hard against the beast. He grasped its forearm and pushed with all its might against it. He placed his legs against its chest and kicked as hard as he could. He opened his mouth wide and clamped it as hard as he could onto the beast’s fingers. Suddenly the laughter stopped and the beast released the boy’s neck. Lyam took deep breaths and sputtered out horrendous coughs clutching in his shirt right where his lungs were. The beast quickly slapped him where his mother previously hit him that day before slithering back by the door.
“He’s coming,” whispered a beast in the corner.
“You better run,” mumbled a monster by the nightstand
“He’s coming. He’s coming,” they softly chanted.
Lyam cried out once more,” MOMMA!”
“SHUT UP,” she yelled.
“M...momma,” Lyam muttered in disbelief.
He shook his head and stared at the light switch. Slowly, inch by inch he crept to the end of the bed. His hand was partially outstretched, his eyes were focused solely on the light switch. When he reached the end he jumped to the wall.
He missed the light and the beast by the door quickly grasped his wrists.
“Leave,” a monster under the bed softly moaned out,” He’s almost here leave.”
“Lll...let me go,” the boy sobbed uncontrollably.
“He’s coming you gotta go,” it said once more.
“I can’t if you are hanging onto me,” Lyam wailed, thrashing his body about, pushing and pulling his arms in random directions. The hands dug into his skin bruising them drawing blood.
“Let...go” the boy demanded,” Let...me….GO!”
And with that, everything was silent once more.
“He comes tomorrow you may live for another night” a beast from the closet whispered. Lyam took a shaky breath and twisted his arm out of the hand and turned on the light.
The security of lights came with a lack of shadowy beasts. A monster still stood before him, clutching it’s hand close it its body. Lyam knew the name of this monster. He knew it far too well.
“Mommy,” the boy questioned with glee. He ran to he her with his arms outstretched and a smile that could make anyone laugh. “Momma momma, you came you came,” he chanted.
When he was a breaths away Alvani quickly kneed him in the chest. “How dare you,” she bellowed. “You don’t touch me, EVER. Don’t ever call me by that wretched name again. I am Lady Blaylock to you.”
“M...momma please no,” Lyam coughed while tightly curling up against the floor his face lowered so that his mother won’t see the tears coming down his face. He already learned that lesson earlier.
“You dare to defy me? Fine you can sleep in the cold dark basement until you learn some proper respect,” She snapped while grasping Lyam’s foot and dragging him out the door.
Lyam’s eyes widened and a loud screech left his lips. He couldn’t reach the light, he was far too short. “Lady Blaylock I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”
Alvani just ignored him and continued dragging him forward. Lyams hand dug into the cheap carpeting, pulling out the strands far too weak to save him from his fate. Alvani didn’t slow down when she reached the stairs, Lyam’s quickly tucked his arms in front of his face each step knocking the air out of him. Tears streamed down his face his mouth opened and closed but his cry could never be heard.
Unprepared for the final step Lyams head smacked hard against the ground. His vision swayed back and forth, focusing and unfocusing. His pajama shirt rose up giving Lyam rug burn but Lyam didn’t dare let go of the carpeting. A small trickle ran its way from Lyam’s legs to the carpeting below him. Shame overwhelmed Lyam as his face was forced into the wetness.
A door slammed open warning Lyam that he was doomed. Alvani quickly grabbed his hair and threw him down the basement steps. Her eyes lighted up so bright as she heard the thud of him landing down the steps. She closed the door and bolted it shut quickly. ‘Eh,’ She thought, ’He’s probably not dead.’
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