“Lethe,” Mom calls from downstairs. I don’t have the energy to get up off the floor.
“Yeah?” My voice is flat, devoid of emotion.
“Are you hungry, honey? Can I get you anything?”
“No.” Food is the last thing on my mind.
“Are you sure? You haven’t eaten today,” she reminds me.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I reply in hopes she will leave me alone.
“Okay.” Her voice carries up much softer, sounding defeated.
It takes me a good ten minutes to push myself up off the floor. I’m all achy from last night, and although I used the shower as an excuse to dismiss my mom, it sounds good now. Avoiding my bed, I collect an old pair of undies from my drawer—I don’t have much left to choose from, but I’m not sticking my hand under the bed again—then an oversized tee and leggings. It’s not as if I plan on leaving the house.
It’s easy to keep my eyes averted from the mirror over the sink as I place my clothes on the shelf and turn on the water, but it’s harder to hide all the bruises and marks on my skin as I undress. I look like I got my ass kicked.
As soon as I pull the shower curtain closed, the atmosphere in the room shifts. It feels heavy, as if there’s someone here with me. I try to ignore it, but the anxious feeling continues to build to a point that I can’t stand it, so I jerk the curtain back and find the room empty, the door ajar just like I left it.
The heavy feeling is still there though, so I don’t feel any better when I slide the drape closed again. Doing my best to ignore it, I dunk my head under the spray and let the hot water beat against me.
As soon as I get done rinsing my hair, a loud sound makes me jump. “Mom?” I ask hesitantly, but I get no response. When I peer between the wall and the curtain, I notice the bathroom door is closed and the room is filled with steam, so it must have been like that for a while. My heart thuds in my chest. I didn’t close the door.
With trembling fingers, I reach to pull the fabric back, but something stops me, probably fear, because I know I’m not alone. “Is someone there?” My voice is just barely above a whisper.
A creak sounds, and my breath catches.
A shape steps closer to the shower, allowing me to see the full outline of a person right on the other side of the fabric. I watch in horror as an arm raises to touch the material. Smears of red trace down the curtain, and a scream shatters the silence.
Thudding soon sounds outside, and I find myself huddled on the floor of the tub, cowering, when my dad bursts into the room, panting. “Lethe!” he shouts and jerks the curtain back.
He sees me for just a moment then spins to give me his back. Thankfully, crouched as I am, the only thing he could see would be tangled limbs and my hunched back. “What the fuck?” he curses. “Are you okay?”
My teeth chatter as I try to say, “S-Someone w-was he-re.”
He reaches back and smacks his hand on the faucet until he’s successful at turning the water off. “There’s no one here. Mickey, get a towel,” he orders my mom, sounding disgruntled.
The fluffy towel drapes over my back as my mom helps guide me to stand. “I have her, go.” Mom’s tone is just as harsh with my dad. Once he’s out of the room, she grabs another towel and places it over my head, gently drying my hair.
“Everything is okay, Lethe,” she promises, but I still don’t believe her.
CHAPTER11
I’m in the spare bedroom downstairs. The TV is on, but I have no idea what’s playing. I haven’t been paying attention, even though I’ve been holed up in here for hours.
When I glance out the window, I see the orange leaves on our maple tree in the backyard swaying in the breeze. Everything seems so normal, except me.
I’ve heard my parents speaking in hushed tones a few times throughout the day, but I tune them out. The only thing that has my attention are the creaks coming from upstairs, as if someone is pacing back and forth above me.
When the doorbell rings for the first time, I know it’ll be dark soon. I already have all the lights on in the room, but I also know it’s a useless measure. Whatever is coming for me doesn’t need the darkness. I think it’s just toying with me.
“Trick or treat!” a child yells excitedly. I don’t understand how people could be outside as if nothing has happened, as if nothingwillhappen. My stomach cramps.
Soft murmurs filter through the house, becoming more noise I drown out. The chime of a text alert has me looking down at my phone next to me on the bed. Most of the messages have been friends asking if I’m okay and if I heard about Mark, so I’ve ignored them, but this one isn’t from a saved contact. It must be from someone I know though.
Unknown:Happy birthday ??
I ignore it, like all the other messages I’ve received, but whoever it is seems to be more persistent, because I get another right after.
