Ghosts of Halloween: Chapter 4

A powerful pulse of terror goes through my body. One moment, I’m standing still, scared out of my wits, and the next, I run. An unhinged male laughter chases me, and I gasp, tripping on something as I make for the back of the house.

I don’t remember if there’s a back door out there, but there must be. I hold onto this thought and choose my direction by instinct.

Wincing when my shoulder hits the side of a doorframe, I tear ahead, feeling cold air on my face. I go from room to room, and suddenly…

There!

A back door, open wide, letting the cold inside. I speed up. I’m almost there, but my hip crashes into a table, and I howl, lurching to the side.

It’s too dark to see where I’m going. Though, I swear the table seemed further away just a moment ago.

I catch my balance and bolt for the door. I’m almost through when it slams shut, and I crash into it, a full body impact that makes me bite my tongue and fall back on my ass, crying out from the pain.

My nose hurts like hell, and when I touch it, my fingers are wet. Blood. Though, when I run my fingertips over it gently, the bone doesn’t seem to be broken. My tongue pulses with pain, and I taste my blood, too. It’s a coppery, thick taste that grounds me and helps me get my bearings.

Someone’s playing with me, and there is clearly more than one person. They must have closed the front door, and now this one. I wonder how the player outside just now plans to get back in.

Whatever they are doing, I can’t imagine they will want to miss the fun of scaring me shitless. And that means, there is another way out. I just have to find it.

All right. As long as there’s a way out, all’s good.

Calm down, H. You’ve got this.

I look around, my ragged breathing slowing down. Pain spreads all over my body, and it helps to ground my thoughts. Ironically, pain makes me more rational. Maybe because I’m so used to it.

The house is quiet, only my breathing filling the old kitchen. I get up, wincing, and go over to the sink. When I try the ancient tap, no water comes, though. It’s okay. The blood on my face is the least of my problems.

I look around again, but I’m alone. It’s weird, come to think of it. Why would they leave me alone now? I freeze, holding my breath to stay silent. I try to listen, but there is nothing, only the scratch of a branch against a window.

Why would they give me a break? Maybe to fuck with my head.

It’s working. Even though I’m calmer now, my body’s buzzing, alive and electric. The thrill I feel wraps around me like a wire, connecting all nerves into an explosive network. I feel it everywhere.

I’ve never been so scared. So alive. It pounds in my blood, this thirst and exhilaration, and for one insane moment, I’m sorry they stopped.

Immediately crushing that thought, I growl at myself, frustrated and angry. Those people want to hurt me. I have to focus.

I try to think about who they could be. Michael and Greg come to mind, obviously. Maybe they joined forces with Ryan to teach me a lesson? It fits, but there is one problem with my theory. The voice I heard doesn’t belong to any of them.

While it sounds vaguely familiar, I can’t really place it. It could be just someone from town, I guess. Some fuckers who saw me and decided to have a spot of fun when I came in. It makes sense. We have no shortage of psychos in these parts.

It’s probably nothing personal. This gives me hope. Personal vendetta can go too far, but if they just wanted to get a kick out of scaring the lame girl? That means they are probably harmless.

I look around again and listen, but the house is eerily silent. That silence seems heavy, though. Ripe with anticipation, and it makes butterflies rise in my stomach.

As quietly as I can, I move toward the back door and try the handle. It won’t even budge, no matter how hard I try to turn it. The door is locked.

I take in a quiet breath, release it, and finally remember my bag.

It’s still on me. And maybe there aren’t any weapons inside, but all my essentials are. I look around, but if they watch me, I can’t see them. It seems like I’m completely alone.

Maybe they had their fun and left?

I came here for a reason, I remind myself as I push my hand in the bag, gripping the bottle of Oxy.

Whoever it is, I won’t let them stop me. All they do is help me strengthen my resolve, too. I’m ready.

And I won’t wait for them to come back for round two. My hands steady, I take out the bottle and tip it into my mouth. I put it on the counter, fish out the thermos, and wash the pills down with tequila. Then I swallow more. And more.

When the bottle is empty, I throw it in the sink and take out the other one. I don’t do half-measures. If I want to OD, I will go big or not at all. I swallow the pills and drink. My stomach rebels, nausea twisting my insides, and I cough, leaning against the sink and gripping the edge. I breathe through my nose, determined to keep it all down, and slowly, my stomach settles.

I straighten and bring the bottle of pills up to my mouth, when suddenly, something slaps it out of my hand.

The pills rattle, scattering all over the floor, and I whip around, trying to find whoever did this. But I’m alone. There is nobody here… Until I hear a voice right behind me.

“Not so fast, princess.”

Something hits my head until my teeth rattle, and I fall. Maybe it’s because of the hit. Or maybe the pills are starting to work.

The world goes dark, and I’m glad.