ii -

  Shelley woke up with a start. She tried to open her eyes but there was a distinct pain behind her eyelids that advised her, ‘not yet, or you’ll be sorry.’

She felt short of breath and so took a deep inhale, expanding her lungs out as far as her chest would allow. Immediately her senses were attacked.

A stench so vile…and yet for some reason it seemed familiar… ?

‘Why would that smell be familiar Shelley?’ her mind inquired. 

She couldn’t answer.

Her lungs refused to allow any more of that stench into her system. She retched and instinct prompted her to bring her hands up to her nose.

But her hands wouldn’t move.

She peeled her eyes wide in terror as she shook her arms wildly trying to free her hands.

Nothing. 

Urgently she scanned the darkness around her. She recognized she was in the brat’s room. It was dark but to her left there was a Spongbob nightlight illuminating some Leggos that littered the floor beneath it.

She struggled to get into a sitting position, her hands bound by some unknown force behind her. As she managed to get to her knees she found her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out the rest of the room. She didn’t see the kid.

Fear was like an intruder inside her. She had never encountered such terror before. For some insane reason she recalled the scene in ‘Alien’ where the beast claws its way up out of the mans chest. That’s what her fear was…an alien entity trying to claw its way out of her.

Logic escaped her. Try as she might she couldn’t piece the events of the evening together. She was lost and oblivious as to why she was even in the brat’s room.

Hide n’ seek gone bad?

Cowboys and Indians gone real bad?

She laughed in spite of the situation. Man when she got out of this predicament she was going to blister that little **** ****. Maybe with a belt.

Right…then his parents would have her up on charges of abuse.

Okay, good…she realized she was thinking more clearly now and she decided to try her binds again. She wiggled her fingers around and felt plastic.

She was just about to forcefully pry her arms apart when a shadowy movement in her peripheral stopped her cold.

Her stomach churned bile, diet Pepsi and cheez-its, her earlier late night snack. The alien was at it again, threatening release.        

She slowly rotated her head toward the closet where the movement had come from. It was open just a crack. She strained her eyes against the deep black of the darkness within. Nothing.

She decided it was just a trick of her mind. Her fear playing games with her.

She edged her way to the back wall and using it as a brace she began to push herself up off her feet. She was nearly fully upright, teetering on the brink of failed balance when the closet door inched open on desperately creaky hinges.

She lost her equilibrium and dumped back down to the floor, landing hard on her ****. She fell on something sharp and a stab of pain traveled quickly up her spine and shocked her brain. She let out an involuntary yelp.

Laughter emerged from the closet. Childlike laughter. She began to weep softly.

“Da…Daniel…sweetie…is tha…tha…that you?

“Oh gawd…please…help me.” Came the soft anxious reply. Not in Daniels voice. It was feminine. A woman?

Shelley fought back tears and the simmering volcano threatening eruption in her stomach.

What was going on in that closet? Did someone need help? A woman?

The thought was absurd. What would a woman be doing in the brat’s closet?

She tried to focus on the evening…and she started to remember.

She was in the living room…she heard the front door…she came to check on the kid…and something came at her…

“Huuuuu…” she inhaled heavily as she recalled the scene she had witnessed earlier. But only for a split second before something had struck her in the head and knocked her out.

She began to struggle against her restraints and found that with a little force they easily broke right off. A quick glance revealed them as nothing more than plastic toy handcuffs.

Hands now free she once again braced against the wall and lifted herself up, never taking her eyes of the closet door for a second.

She couldn’t help wondering though…what was behind that door?

She slowly baby stepped her way toward the bedroom door. To the exit.

She intended to rip it open and run like hell for the front door. It sounded like a great plan. She couldn’t wait to get away from this terror. This nightmare. The stench of death.

She reached her hand out and placed it on the door handle. It felt cool to her touch. She imagined the frigid cold of the outside world and her sweat soaked body welcomed it. She needed fresh air.

With her eyes firmly on the closet, she turned the handle. She felt the knob twist, the bolt shift…the door free itself from the jam. All she needed to do now was pull and run.

She closed her eyes and repeated the words:              

Pull and run.

Pull and run.

Just like Dorthy…

Instinctively she almost clicked her heels together. The thought was ludicrous at a time like this and her sensibility berated the playful side of her brain.

Damn it! Focus…

She pulled the door an inch. It creaked. It sounded to her like the whole **** house was shifting on its foundation!

She paused...nothing.

She closed her eyes and willed her bravery to make an appearance.

I COMMAND YOU TO MOVE!

A smile played across her lips as she recalled the emotion game she used to play with her Dad when she was a kid.

He told her: “Shelley baby, you can overcome any fear. Any fear at all! All you have to do is decide to own it. It’s all about controlling your emotions kid.”

Of course, her father had plenty of his own fears to battle. And eventually he had lost.

The smile dissolved from her face.  

She knew it was time. Eyes still closed, she tightened her grip on the handle. She tensed her arm. She flexed her fingers. And she…

“Shelley, where ya goin’?”

Her eyes burst open and she saw that the brat, Daniel had emerged from the closet. She peered behind him and there was nothing.

Was it just him then? **** with her?   

She hesitated.

Or was it all just some sick nightmare? Was she imagining things?

“Shelley, don’t you wanna stay and play with us?”

She opened her mouth. She wanted to speak. But coherent words failed her.

“Daaa…I…waaa…”

The boy giggled. Then he shifted something from his left hand to his right. Something wet. Dark and wet.

Shelley stared at it, trying to make sense of it in the darkness. And she realized, whatever it was, that was where the stench was coming from.

Somehow, she found her voice:

“Daniel…sweetheart, boy…um…what is that…that…thing, there in you hands?”

Daniel held it up by what appeared to be a thick chord of some sort. The object hung loosely from it and spun around slowly, spraying out wet splashes of dark liquid as it turned. The splashes freckled Daniels face and he did a little jig as he inspected the object with glee. 

“Oh this old stinker?” He suddenly stopped his dance…the smile fading away from his face.

He slowly turned to face her. And he hissed:  

“Well it’s just my old babysitters heart.”

Shelley screamed and yanked the door open hard. She had to get away.

She bolted out of the bedroom into the hallway and the sudden blinding jolt of light was disorientating. Eyes half open she thrust forward and began the journey down the short hallway toward the foyer.

Running full speed, trying to get way from the horror and the stench, she failed to acknowledge that she was in her socks…and socks on a marble floor meant trouble. A few feet from the front door her ankle twisted as her foot, unable to gain traction, slid unexpectedly to the left. She toppled forward and smashed her chin on the marble. The pain was excruciating as she felt her mouth fill up with blood and bile.

However it wasn’t enough to make her give up. The vision of Daniel spinning a human heart around in his hand was enough to keep her going forever if she needed to. 

She struggled to her feet, suddenly feeling very aware of her situation. It was as if the fall had snapped her mind into superhero mode.

The taste of blood splashing around in her mouth from the two teeth that had snapped out of her lower gun didn’t even faze her. She took one look behind her toward the bedroom door down the hallway and saw Daniel standing there with a smile. His pajamas were covered in gore. She almost laughed.

She turned back toward the front door. It was time to get the hell out of this madhouse before she completely lost it herself. 

  As she reached her hand out for the handle it occurred to her that one of the last things she remembered doing earlier was moving the side table in front of the door. She scanned the area to the left and found the side table right back where it was earlier.

And resting neatly on top of it…her cell phone.

She pulled her hand back.

She spit hard out of the side of her mouth and one of her teeth flew with it.

Without further hesitation she grabbed her phone, flipped it open and hit the first speed dial button her finger found. Blood continued to issue from her mouth like a waterfall, flowing right unto the phone and effectively blocking from view the actual number it was dialing. It didn’t matter…anyone would do.

One ring.

She glanced behind her and saw that Daniel had finally started to make his way up the hall.

Two rings.

In one hand he still held the sickening bloody organ.

Three rings.

In his other, a white knuckled grip around a large steely butcher knife.

Four rings.

‘Come on plaaaheeeeezzzee someone answer!’

On the fifth ring an unfamiliar voice answered:

“Hello…Shelley, is that you?”

“YES, YES ITS ME…PLEASE HELP! HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!”

There was a moment of dead silence after Shelley’s rant. Her back was against the door. Daniel was a mere ten feet away and closing.

He was so tiny…yet obviously so dangerous. 

She knew she couldn’t wait anymore. She gripped the handle again and whipped the door open. She spun on her heels and started out the door when she was stopped dead in her tracks by a tall woman in a long black leather coat with a cell phone to her ear.

Behind her stood a familiar man with gold-rimmed glasses and a startled appearance.

The woman smiled. Her lips were painted a deep crimson. The same shade of crimson as the ravaged old babysitters heart that her brat son presently held in his hand.

“I’m so sorry dear! It’s well after 2 a.m. Daniel should have already killed you hours ago.”