Won't Turn Out Right

I couldn't help but feel absolutely terrified.

When... if they catch me, they could kill me. The only reason they brought me up from the basement was because they needed the combination for my parents' safe. Now that that's been emptied out, what's stopping them from getting rid of me?

Who says that they're awake, though? I won't get caught because everyone's passed out, of course. The house is dead silent. I won't get caught.

This is my chance.

I tried to push back all of the uneasy feelings. I shoved them back to the dark side of my mind. The logical part that I rarely ever used. Who needs that shit when you've got thumbs? And sharp teeth.

Ever played man hunt before? It's just hide-and-seek in the dark.

Well, there's this uneasy sort of feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you're playing. Sure, it might just be the fear of the unknown. Some one is hiding in the dark and you can't see or hear them. You know they're there. And, you know they're not going to pop out and dig a knife into your back (unless you're playing with one of my friends) but you still feel nervous. You can't help it, can you? There's adrenaline pumping through your veins. You can hear your heart beating in your ears.

Its the dark. It kind of consumes you. Swallows you up. Your vision isn't at its best. You sense of hearing is heightened, and being able to hear everything is unsettling. Very unsettling. But, you feed off of the adrenaline for just a little while longer until everyone's been found and its your turn to hide. Run for a good hiding spot and close your eyes to steady your breathing. Duck and cover and make sure you're impossible to see. And, once you're found, run again. Your hearts in your ears again, and you can't catch your breath.

The dark is unknown. The chase is thrilling. The escape is more thrilling.

And, here I am. Night time in my own house. I can't tell if I'm the seeker or the hider. Having to be so quiet makes me feel like I'm hiding. Trying to reach the door without getting caught makes me feel like I'm hiding.

Some one jumping out from the darkness to plunge a knife into my back, though, makes me feel like I'm seeking.

I can feel my heart in my throat, choking me. I'm sweating in places I didn't know I couldsweat in. My breathing is sporadic and uncontrollable. Now I'm starting to wheeze because there's still some cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

I took one last shaky breath and peered around the corner where the stairs met the hallway. The clock above the white noise TV blinked 4:19. I saw three men splayed around the room. Two of them had a half-dressed woman in their arms. I tried to clear my throat quietly to get rid of the burning. My head was spinning and everything hurt.

I sprinted to the door, quickly and quietly, barely feeling my feet touch the cold wood floor. I worked on unjamming the door first and foremost. I never understood this kind of shit. I remember all of my friends always boasting to me that they could break in to classrooms at school with just a credit card or a screw driver, but I was never impressed with that shit. It made me angry that they would stoop so low. But, here I am, wishing I had asked them their secrets.

Is it really such common knowledge amongst children to know how to break and enter?

That was a real question, by the way.

I grew frustrated when I couldn't pry the locks apart with my bare hands. I didn't want to go back threw the hall, but I knew I would have to. For the back door. I knew that the back door would be open. Because when I said 'back door', I meant the cellar doors. That was always kept shut with an old fashioned steel peg attached to a chain which was placed in between two pieces of metal on both sides of the door. Remove the peg and slide away the metal. Open the door and run like hell.

Someone coughed.

I froze.

Someone shuffled across the living room carpet.

I stopped thinking.

He cursed.

I panicked and hid in a closet.

Silence.

(Except for my wheezing, of course.)

More silence.

Another far-away curse.

The cupboards in the kitchen opened and shut loudly.

"Where the fuck is the Advil?" He growled, and slammed the cabinet door loudly, making me jump. He cursed again. "Fuck me." He shuffled back through the hallway, standing a couple feet from my hiding spot. I covered my mouth and nose with the arm of a coat to silence my heavy breaths. I shut my eyes and let a tear or two escape. I heard him huff, and he started upstairs slowly.

Oh shit.

I gasped quickly, realizing where he was probably heading, and I quickly opened the door once I heard him reach the top. I bit my lip hard and sprinted to the basement door.

"What the FUCK!" He roared and I almost screamed. I shut the basement door behind me quickly, and started down the stairs.

I tripped.

God damn me.

I tripped.

I tumbled down, down, down into the darkness. I hit everything and nothing in the abyss that was my basement. I was vaguely aware of someone screaming, and even less aware that it was me who was shrieking and crying. My legs cracked and twisted and my head managed to hit the corner of each step. I was losing consciousness quickly.

I failed. I'm going to die.

I heard the door groan open as I laid at the bottom of the stairs. My arms were bent behind me and underneath me. I couldn't feel my legs. I saw a black figure stand out in the light of dawn.

Is that symbolic?

I let my eyes shut, and the darkness take me away.

Probably not.