Shelley was sitting on the soft, oversized couch. Thank god for however many hundreds of TV channels these insanely rich people pay for! She flipped through the channels and relaxed, staring blankly at the flickering screen. She was exhausted after the year and a half it took to put what's-his-face to sleep. Well, at least that's what it felt like. Anyways, that little brat screamed and insisted that Shelley read him story after story and then sing song after song before finally drifting to sleep.
As annoying as he was, Shelley couldn’t help but notice how sweet he looked when he slept. Although, isn’t that always the case? Kids are cute, even adorable, until they start screaming or pooping. But now the brat wasn’t doing either and Shelley noticed how his soft, dark hair fell sweetly across his tiny little forehead and how his miniature hands firmly griping the edge of his comforter. His breathing created the metronome that his chest rose and fell to. The entirety of his previous tantrum softly melted away as Shelley pulled the covers up to his ears. She left his room, shutting the door, and wondering how this little sleeping angel could be so horrible while he was awake.
But now it was time for Shelley to just lie down on the wonderful couch and breathe. She took off her shoes and sunk even deeper into the inviting cushions. By now it was pretty late. Well, at least it was late enough that infomercials started to take over regular scheduled programming. Shelley had watched foot skin being peeled off, mops miraculously cleaning muddy carpets, and mineral makeup covering mountains of zits as she flipped through the channels. Where were that little guy's parents? It was way past the time that they said they'd be home.
Some more cartoons and black-and-white sitcoms later, Shelley finally heard the front doorknob turning. Excited to get paid and go home, she lifted her head over the couch and glanced towards the door only to find it swinging open with no one in sight. Were the parents playing some kind of sick prank on her? She lowered the volume of the TV and spoke cautiously. "Hello? Is anybody there?" No answer. A wild rushing feeling of fear consumed her whole body. She always made sure to shut and lock the door wherever she was. This was too strange, so she decided to approach the door.
She slowly lowered her feet onto the cool marbled floor and walked, one foot of lead in front of the other, towards the front door. It was as if her feet were robotically moving by themselves. A part of her wanted to turn around and go hide, while another part of her wanted to discover who or what had opened the door. Her body started shivering as she stepped closer. She couldn’t tell if it was because of her gnawing fear or the wintry chill that blew in from the open door, perhaps both combined, but her legs felt as if they would just collapse from the weight of her upper body. She reached the door and held out her shaking hand to it. It didn’t look like it was forced open. She looked outside and towards the ground around her. Nothing appeared to be tampered with. Everything looked normal. She might have even calmed down a bit if it wasn’t for that awful stench. It smelled vaguely familiar, but Shelley couldn’t put her finger on it. Anyways, it was coming from right outside the door and she didn’t want the smell or anything else getting in. She quickly shut the door, locked it, and moved a side table in front of it.
She took a second to catch her breath as she tried to rub her goosebumps away. But she couldn’t relax. Her body had sort of locked up and gone into a panic mode. She felt like she had wasted too much valuable time plotting her next move. She had to make a move, not think about making a move. She pulled herself together and tip-toed on her bare feet back to the couch, but to her surprise, her cell phone wasn’t on the coffee table. What the hell! She had left it there right next to the remote control. ****! This ‘thing’ was really trying to mess with her head. Out of desperation, she dug her hands into the couch cushions in an attempt to find her cell phone. But before her fingers had the chance to find it, there was a loud thump coming from the hallway that contained the boy's bedroom. It wasn’t only messing with her anymore.
She started to tremble, but she knew that she had to check on the little brat. Surely he wasn’t sleeping like a musical little angel anymore. Her feet felt so heavy that she resorted to sliding them towards the dark hallway. She heard faint crying as she stepped closer, but by the time she reached his door the crying had stopped. She took a moment to brace herself for the worst possible situation while she studied the boy’s bedroom door. It was closed with no evidence of having been forced in any way. It looked innocent enough; a solid white door with a blue sign on it. The sign said “Jake” on the sail of a little cartoon boat on the sea. “Stop it!” she screamed inside of her own head. Once again, she had wasted valuable time. It was now or never.
She turned the doorknob using care so as not to create any sound and pressed the door open. Before she even had the chance to look inside, she smelt that terrible stench again. It was even stronger in this room then by the front door. She mustered up all of the courage she could manage and looked into Jake’s room. Her jaw almost dropped to the floor with a horrifying scream, but her scream was cut short. The last thing she saw was a large, blunt object hurling straight towards her face. Blackout….
