We made our way inside the basement from the back of the house. The air was damp and musty, and the creaking of the wooden stairs echoed through the empty space. As we walked down the basement floor, I heard another scream. Cleo was behind me, her eyes wide with fear. We walked into a bloody mess.
When the man first comes into view, I don’t recognize him. He’s too far away and his gait is all wrong. He walks like a scarecrow more than a man, all lop-sided at that. As he nears, Cleo’s heart falls right through to her sneakers. He’s more purple than brown, his left eye swollen shut. He can’t be seeing a thing out of that and he won’t for a while yet. His face still bears congealed blood and his clothes are an utter mess. Then he tries to say my name, his cracked lips failing at the first sy
