CHAPTER 004
825 Words
Chapter 004
Lily's Point of View
For what seems like hours, I have been standing here fixated on Ralph's door. I'm not sure whether I should knock once more or just go away. Still, I need somewhere to stay—even just for one night.
I spy him when the door cracks open. Ralph, my brother, is here. The man has possessed a ghostly presence for as long as I can remember. Though his eyes darted over me, he said nothing. His face looks rougher than I recall; he has a thick beard and his eyes still hold the storm—the same storm he has been running from ever since that evening.
"Can I spend a night here crashing?" Even to me, my voice seems feeble. Despite having no other options, I understand the likelihood of success is slim.
Ralph speaks nothing. Not does he even stand aside. He simply turns and goes inside the home, leaving the door wide open behind him.
I chew hard. That's what I'm supposed to say.
My feet dragging, I went inside. The air here is already weighing on me. It's stale, like it has been storing secrets for years just waiting for someone to uncover them.
The space is still, too silent. Before I know what I'm looking at, the tablets are on the table. The bottles are half-empty, containing prescription pharmaceuticals. The bottles are filled with anxiety medications and painkillers. My gut twists over. I hardly blame the man as he has been medicating himself into unconsciousness. In my way, I have done the same.
My eyes stray, and I spot the paramedic patch on the floor. It's crushed and forgotten. Like he no longer finds it important. It is odd, though. Since the accident, he has always carried that patch with him.
I reach out to touch it, but my stomach turns over and stops me. What happened to Ralph? From what is he running from?
That evening I had a dream.
It's terrible; I'm not sure how to convey it. She is a girl whose skin is scorched, as if she has endured a terrible experience. Her wide, frantic eyes reflect the result of too long crying for help. Her voice is like the wind screaming for attention— not even a voice.
She murmurs, "Help," and I stop breathing. I woke up gasping, yet the room seemed odd. The air thickens. I attempt to dismiss it, but it persists.
I get up and scan around. Except for the refrigerator light, the room is black. Additionally, there is Ralph. Standing in the kitchen, I looked at him.
He says nothing.
Ralph: "Ralph?" My voice quakes as I whisper. I'm not sure what I'm expecting.
He simply looks at me, his eyes lost in some shadowy area I cannot follow.
"That room's been cold since she died," he continues, his voice low, gruff.
I blink. "Who?"?
He ignores it, though. He doesn't even glance at me. He merely walks to the door and steps outdoors. The door slams shut behind him, leaving me in darkness.
Death occurred to whom?
I sit there for some time, feeling my heart pounding in my chest and the silence settling in. Why would one feel as though the house is closing in on them? Why is it so chilly here? And why do I sense someone observing me?
Staring at the door, I'm not sure how long I will stay. Then I hear it, a whisper.
Lily...
I come to a halt; my body becomes frigid. It remains motionless. The voice doesn't come from any specific place. Instead, it originates within my mind.
My mind races as my ideas fly off one another. Though I would love to think it is nothing, I know otherwise. Ralph's behavior has been unusual; the house feels odd. And that girl, the one with burned skin, still resides in my imagination. She is still yelling to me.
My legs wobble, I get up and head for the door. But before I open it, I turn back. The house has a different vibe. The shadows become darker and lengthen. As they are closing in on me.
I leave here not able to stay. No more.
But I have no idea where to go.
I inhale deeply then push the door open. My head is racing, my heart is still beating. What the bloody devil is happening?
And who is that woman? What became of her?
And why is Ralph so far-off? Why does he keep stashing things?
My thoughts spin with the questions; I know they won't go away until I have the answers.
But what if I discover something beyond my control? Let's assume that the reality differs from my perceptions.
I leave the cool evening air against my flesh. Though I have no idea where I'm heading, I cannot stay here. This situation is not to my liking.
What are you doing?
- Writer
