The True Horror Began On Friday 13th

Steam wafted around the bathroom loftily making the mirror mist and everything become slippery to the touch. I dipped my foot in warily, dithering for a moment to get used to the temperature. Sighing, I sunk down and emerged myself in water, trying to forget about Mikey for at least three seconds. Like Gerard had said, I undoubtedly did come on a ride when I met him. Luckily though, I felt like I was coming down from it, Gerard, the DVD, the clubs, the ring –which I still had around my neck- everything.

I breathed in inhaling the musky scent of candles and shampoo’s that dithered around the room. I had set the house up with a few sparse candles in appropriate places, seeing as the news had said they may need to do some power changes, the only thing that would work were the phones.

Luckily, the lights had stayed on until then and I was planning to keep them on. I didn’t want them going off whilst I was having a bath.

I lathered my hands my up with soap and rubbed it into my scalp, washing it away quickly by submerging the crown of my head into the bath. I pulled back up and stared at the mirror above me, only my forehead visible in the glass. Wiping away the remaining soap buds, I sighed and trailed my hand along the fading gash I had from the night in the woods

I started suddenly when the phone rang along the corridor, I hated the phone ringing when I was in the bath, it always seemed crappy timing. I climbed out regretfully, shivering when I became laboured with unwanted goose bumps.

“Hello?” I asked grumpily.

Crackling silence filled the receiver, like it was a dead zone.

“Anyone there?” I asked. The silence was broken by heavy, shallow breath, “Okay...” I swallowed, beginning to look around the room worriedly, “Fuck you then,” I muttered, slamming the phone down and beginning to return to the bathroom.

Ring
I stared at it and swallowed.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“What?” I asked into the receive, my nerves system suddenly electrocuting each other when I heard a creak from the stairs down stairs. My breath reduced to shallow, short shuffles through my nose and my pores began to protest indignantly when my heart started up a thumping beat.

creak

I opened my mouth, my brow furrowing in a terrified manner as I went close the door to my parents room whilst closing off the light. I did what any baby would do –hide under the bed. I scrabbled underneath it, my stomach seemingly trying out for an acrobatic competition.

The light from the hall left a pale strip land on the carpet and if I squinted I could just make out the beginning of the door to my room, and the entrance to the bathroom. I clutched the phone into my hand, half forgetting some one was still on the other end. I was too frightened to speak, I put the phone to my ear never the less. The shallow breathing was still there, crackling occasionally with interference.

creak

The intruder had reached the middle of the stairs, I could tell. We had twelve steps, the bottom once creaked, the seventh and the two top ones. I had counted them when I was about five; I wanted to know which steps I should avoid if I was trying to sneak down in the middle of the night to watch television. The breathing down the other end of the phone cut off abruptly with the dialling tone taking its place, making me let out a muffled squeak of terror.

They were at the top now, there shoes and legs forming black shadows which made a silhouette under the door. They started walking in funny manner towards my bedroom door, they had a limp

The bottom of my door scraped against the carpet lowly and my floorboards creaked whilst they walked in, only staying for a second before coming back out again.

My eyes filled with tears, big pools of aching water that was soon to be running down my face. My lips had become dry from letting out breath through my mouth and my drenched hair was beginning to soak me through, making me shiver undeniably.

The invader sighed, sounding bothered. I shook warily as he turned off my bedroom light and closed the door. The person walked into the bathroom and my breath tightened. The sound of them adding water to my bath hissed through my ears, shading the fact that the floorboards had creaks when they had stepped back out of the bathroom.

Then they began up the hall, slowly and menacingly, leaving no trace of caution. They began turning off every light up stairs, leaving me in complete still blackness. I sobbed silently and bit down on my balled hand, clenching my eyes closed. Warm tears spilled down my cheeks and my pulse drummed out a rhythm in my ears. I heard the door creak open, I was too scared to open my eyes but I felt them lean down.

If I opened my eyes a little I’d be able to see their face.

I could fell their hair on my cheek, their breath on my face, their eyes bore into me as I shook in a terrified manner, telling myself to keep my eyes closed and everything would be fine. It could stay a nightmare inside my head, never to be heard as something real. They smelt strongly of cologne, there warmth radiating onto my cooling skin.

I sensed them lean forward, I was going to die, I could feel it. I was as good as gone.

They pressed their warm lips to my damp head, leaving a chaste kiss. The impostor got back up and left, closing the bedroom door and walking out. I let out a minute sob, each part of me trembling as the front door slammed and the windows racketed in their panes.

I crawled out from under the bed, trying to compose my self, they were gone. It was fine, I was fine, everything was fine. I started turning all the lights back on, having to quicken my pace when I realised the bath was probably over flowing. I turned the hot tap off and fanned the steam away from my face, still trying to work around my shuddering breaths. The mirror above the bath held a large hand print, leaving an eerie impression on my face.

I suddenly noticed a card, a white piece of card was propped between the shelf bottles on the shelf.

I grabbed it and read it out loud, my gut vaulting over hurdles.

“H-he who opens the school door, closes a prison,” I murmured.

He who opens the school door, closes a prison

I’d heard that quote before, Mr. Jones occasionally used it in his school speeches. It was a by a French novelist, Victor Hugo. I stared at it, turning the hand written card over an over in my hand. I kept repeating the quote in my head.

To the ear and to the eye a person would think the quote meant; you open a school, people get educated, they don’t do dumb things, they don’t go to prison, they close the prisons. That seemed a logical and ordinary answer. Who would want to tell me that?

Frowning, I shakily turned on my heel and shuffled back to my own room, sitting on the cool bed quilts as I entered. I put the card and house phone down on my pillow, frowning at both of them before suddenly getting an idea. I snatched up the phone and dialled the call back number, shoving it to my ear. I pressed the digit three quickly and waited for it to start ringing, wanting to know who called me and if it had anything to do with that stupid quote.

“Hey, this is Mikey Way. You’re ringing my mobile. I’m not here, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Mikey?