The House

There wasn’t a sound, not even a light buzz from the lights, just soft breathing in a bleach white room. Padded walls, tile floor, gun metal door for its mouth. There was no darkness to be homed in this room, and yet it was the most frightening place to be. Black fringe covered charcoal brows, his eyeballs were moving underneath a yellowed cloth tied behind his head. The perspiration sheeted over his skin, he licked his chapped, broken lips. His breath came out in slow recession, keeping his limbs soft.
Pale skin, glowed a milky white against the vibrancy of the vivid white. His flesh was freezing, and the old sweat kept spreading. His messy obsidian hair pressed wet against his scalp resting it on the corner padded wall. His hands were bound by a plastic cuffs, his attire was that of a loose infirmary blouse, and elastic cotton thin pants. Each were clinical white, his feet were numbing with the cold tile. The scars and scabbing on his palms were lighter now.
He breathed slowly, calming himself resting and saving, until he felt it. It was coming, and there will be no stopping the arrival. His head turned to the mouth of the belly, the metal reinforced door stood before him secure. His blindfold had him seeing through sound, the only sound was a heightened rapid rasp of breaths coming from him. It blared in his ears, he kicked himself upright sitting position. He pressed himself forcefully against the padded wall corner; his hands flexed repeatedly, pearls of sweat dripped of his nose. He could hear it now.
A loud scrape, almost tearing his eardrums open was being dragged outside of the door. Metal grinding against metal, he gasped loudly, and pressed him again into the wall. He shook his head fervently; he let out small fearful moans. His yellowed blindfold soaked fresh tears of fear, in taking deep breathed he tried to calm.
The heavy scraping came to a halt with a bang to the door. His burning covered eyes immediately trained onto the door, waiting his ears pounded in his head, his breath at a halt. Death is all he could ever wish for.
A painful screech came, his bound hands tried to cover his right ear, he started to scream. His dry lips cracked, his sore throat suffered ripping sensations. The roar came with a bang against the metal, ramming itself to the door repeatedly, the sliding peep hole rattled, the bolts shook. Then it stopped, his cried died out after the silence permeated the room. His eyes went wild against the cloth, his lower lip trebled as he swallowed slowly.
The screech came physically making him twist on the floor, the peek holes slider was yanked open with such a violent ferocity the metal was bent back. The whispering sounds floated through the air, pouring in closer from the opening. The entity blocked the light, and outlined shadowed mass snaked its way slowly to our boy. The lights began to flicker overhead, losing its power the buzz along with whispers and maniacal laughter came closer. He screamed, and kicked his legs hard, hitting his back against painfully to the tile, his fists clenched hard he tried to bite the solid plastic off his wrists. His gums began to bleed, the corner of his mouth getting cut blood spitting with saliva. The room was shadowed and almost shrouded in darkness; the faint flickers sent dots in his covered vision.
He stopped suddenly feeling the entity above him, without a second wasting he was pulled by his foot to the middle of the room, scratches, invisible bludgeoned hits rocketed to his frail body. The entity pressed against his body, the pain seared hot as limbs were crushed against tile floor. With a heavy gasp his didn’t resist anymore, it invaded his body. Choking on saliva and air, it ripped through his nerves, assaulted his every sense. Eyeballs burned from the salt from sweat and tears.
His broken cries stopped with a gasp of air as his limbs no longer felt like lead. Like finger nails on skin, it washed down slowly but lighting fire to his sore body. Needle sensation trailing down his legs, leaving at the tip of his toes. The entity with soft whispers retreated, the shadowed mass seeped through the cracks of the door, and opening. The flickering stopped with a second of darkness only to light back up with clear vividness.
He lay broken on the floor, turned into a mass of pain, and hopelessness. His eyes couldn’t produce anymore tears, this small fact made his misery press harder onto his soul. Dark red started to slide softly out of his nose; it mingled with sweat on top of ivory skin. Scabs were reopened, and new fresh cuts had blood pooling in his curled palms. His fingernails underneath were stained with red dye, he tested his jaw opening and closing his mouth.

Without anything left to fear, he croaked out his only insult he wished could come true. “I hate you Tempest, I just want you die.”, his voice was quiet, and raspy. Quiet soft sobs started to echo off; He shook from the cold, he could no longer take it he passed away to sleep.
Exhaustion took him for a minute no sounds disturbed him, the lights flickered off and on for a moment. A sharp hiss began that struck your inner ears, his eyelids fluttered rapidly. His body began to convulse, his mouth gaping open for air letting out loud demonic roars, his voice strangled and alien.
“Come to me Callixa!”

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“Oh Fuck!”

Gasping for air, shooting my hand to my throat, I woke up to the dream again. I covered my mouth as I pressed my eyes shut. The heart raging inside my chest, my nerves were going insane. My skin was cold as ice, my hand shaking as I wiped the cold sweat from my brow. Calming down with some deep intakes of air, my nose burned by how hard I was inhaling. ‘What the hell was that again?’

I rubbed my eyes with my palm, and had control of my breathing now. I rubbed my chest the faint thumping was felt underneath my hand. I looked around my bedroom, ‘Ok, I’m home’. The orange sunlight was seeping through the blinds, the warm glow brushing lightly against the furniture. Peach colored walls seemed to glow with soft sunrise light. The cherry wood burro settled in the corner, the wall opposite of my bed covered with paintings.

I took a moment to look at them, the oil paintings were of old caverns, flush forests, and a fantasy world I envisioned. Then there was it, my eyes move to the painting I had just finished a week ago. Padded walls, tile floor, and a broken little boy on the floor.

Who was this kid? He appeared in my dreams since I was little, always the same. He would try to keep it together, sometimes I remembered him being much more of screamer when I was younger. As I got older, he screamed less, and he was getting easier to break. The idea of him corroding, his will deteriorating with time as I grew up disturbed me highly. I shook my head away and rested back into my comforter.

The plush softness caressed my body, I was warm and cozy. I wouldn’t want to move an inch for the world. I breathed in the scent of melons, by nostril flaring as I rubbed my face into the white pillow. I wonder how it would feel to be cold on tile floor all the time. The pain, the suffering. The guilt started to creep up on me, he still has me shaken. I let out a big huff, “Oh fuck this”.

I fight out of my covers and sit up to look on my left to see my clock telling me it’s Near 6 O’clock in the morning. Sighing and shaking my head, I start to rub the nape of my neck to any cricks. That boy has been attacked by what again? The gloom was setting in, I crawled out of bed to stand by my dresser. I look in the mirror and see myself safe. Stepping to the joint bathroom door, yawning as I walked in.

Bathroom wasn’t as spacious, the soft robin egg blue splashed on the walls accented with soft white pearlescent sink, toilet, and shower. The small window pane above the shower had a strong fiery orange light coming through, as if the world was on fire outside. Pressing my hand to the clear sliding doors of the shower I steadied myself. Reaching to my shirts end I pulled it over my head throwing it into the hamper. Thumbing my underwear I shimmed my hips side to side letting it fall to the floor. Sliding the door, stepping inside I started up the shower.
I zoned out and relaxed after the warm spray hit against my body, I rubbed my face with my palms. The warmth spread throughout my body, loosening the muscles. I still couldn’t get his voice or face out of my mind. He never used to say my name, but dreams take what would make you unhinge and, use it against you, right?

I kept on thinking on how he tried to keep it together, he was terrified. Cuffed and left out to the slaughter, and he was blindfolded. He could have taken it off, but it made no sense. Why didn’t he take it off? He could have seen if he could open the door, but did the door have a knob? Now that I think of it what’s the use of seeing your cell when you already know you can’t leave.
The water rushing down my back, and droplets going down my lashes I couldn’t help but place my hand over my mouth. The agony he must feel, but a dream. But this never is just a dream.
“Ah! Oh my god.”

A pain shot right through my abdomen. As if someone took a knife and gutted upwards. It hits me once more, and I collapse on the floor. I cry out in pain, my legs become heavy like lead. I move myself back into the corner of my shower. Another stab and I clutch my stomach, and rock back and forth. I try to steady my breath as the pain shoots from below all the way to my chest. I press my forehead to the tile, and my fingers tighten in each other’s grasp. I gulp in air, and the cold presses over me. I couldn’t understand what this pain was coming from. Then I felt it.
From the arch of my foot, I felt an ice touch on me, slowly going up my leg to my arm then cheek. I almost urinated when I felt what felt like a wet kiss on my cheek. What in god’s name was going on? The pain started to subside; the dull ache was left in heavy limbs. What the hell had just happened? I sat there in a stunned silence got my ass up, smacked the water off and ran off into my room.

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I was in just my towel, and cocooned myself in my bed, I couldn’t give a damn that I was wetting it. I couldn’t stop staring at my bathroom door, waiting for some creature of my imagination to just pop out. To dreams, and severe pain, plus a ghost like kiss to make it all better, I’m royally pissed. What was all this going on and why is it happening now? A whole lot of questions with no damn answers, I just curled up tighter in my bed. The orange hue was gone by now, the magic of the morning long gone. If it can’t be explained or undone, there’s nothing I can do but accept it. Accepting something just like that never sits well with me. The fluffy comforters will be soggy because of my massive amount of wet hair. I resign to mull over what happened later, and get up to get dressed.

I attentively slowly placed my foot on the wood floor, my wet toes contacting the cold floor. I kept swapping my attention to my foot, and the bathroom door. There was no pain, no attacks so I let out a sigh and just got up.

I dry my body off with a towel, but wrap my hair up in it to soak dry. I take a second to look at myself in the mirror; there wasn’t any scars at least nothing from the shower. I look over faint scars over my ribs. I remember them, from that time I wish to forget but I can’t. I stare into my own eyes, they look like black holes. My father has always said dark eyes black as night are windows to the soul. And good luck. Always so solid looking, black shining bright like oil. I run my hands over my collarbone, I study myself a bit. Tan brown skin, with deep black eyes, small nose, and pert shapely lips. Heart shaped face, small neck and small height. I look over my chest and body. Well not all small, or more like big in places where’d it get attention. I roll my eyes, growing up hated by envious girls, hit on by horn dog boys. I shake my head and go on to put on my clothes.

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I walk out in the hallway, my bare feet treading softly on the wood. I pass my father’s study, all seven padlocked locked in place. I always wondered what was inside, the joke I thought of was maybe he kept bodies in there. A father with a secret serial killer side, but after growing up a bit more, I learned not to ask anymore because maybe its better not to know.

I tugged my shorts end, stupid denim was cutting at my hips. My father hates these short skimpy clothing, but for me it’s the closest thing to naked. I’m more comfortable with nothing on, there’s nothing wrong with that.

The fridge door squeaks open, and I rummage for food. Only condiments, or sauces. ‘Shit would it hurt to have stuff just to make oh I don’t know, a damn PBJ?’ I grumble, and look more into the back past expired jars of I don’t know what.

“Callixa! What are you wearing?!”

“Eek!”, I jolt upwards, banging my head into the fridge roof. I drop on my knees, and clutch my head in pain. My dad has really bad timing.
“Oh come on, why do you have to yell in the morning! God!” I rub my head some more, refusing to tear up in front of him. He grumbles something about shorts and opens the freezer for an icepack. I snatch it from his grasp and growl under my breath. He extends his hand for me to get up, but I smack it away and March into the living room.
I immediately feel bad about smacking his hand away, but I won’t apologize just yet. I dump myself onto our old beaten coach, deep blue, cotton slip, incredibly soft. I guess we both love comforts.
“Callixa are you alright?”
I look up at him; I probably got a sour face on. I relent when I see his serious eyes, grey pools. I teeter my head side to side to give an indication of a so-so. I let out a breath relaxing; he takes a seat adjacent to me on his chair. Another beaten down furniture he kept for years. It’s then when I finally notice him, he’s tired looking. My father must have been a sharp looking handsome man, firm but may have been a real charmer to my mother when she was still alive. But now, hooded eyes, grey eyes that seem dark. Cut short black hair with grey starting at his temples, strong looking face that seemed aged. Times I look at him like now, I’m horrified he’s got a daughter like me, and not my mother which I saw only one picture but spoke she was the world to him.

We didn’t speak for a while; I decided to go back to my room. I went past him, no protest from him, was there ever any? Going through the narrow hallway, I felt the lead heaviness start to sit in. ‘Oh no, it’s happening again.’ I try to make a dash for my room, my dad still doesn’t know about my blackouts. We right arm falls asleep, needles shot up my arm painfully. My left foot falls asleep, the numb needles hurt as it gets rolled backwards me tripping. The side of my body slams hard into his bedroom door; I slide down fast, the shoulder hitting the doorknob painfully. I flop hard on my back, my heads ringing, I see him coming fast as my vision fades.

I think it’s been minutes, I’m not sure, and my head is foggy. My eyes are held shut, so heavy. I try and open them; all I can see is an orange glow. My window blinds, swaying as fire orange seeps past them. Soft dust particles floating in the air, warmth. Blinking once, my eyeballs feels like its being pressed into my head. I forcibly open my eyes again; I try to raise my hand, nothing. I’m not in my body, I’m looking at my home, but everything feels different. No sign of my father, I blink one more time it feels like being tugged to another place.
I’m outside on the lawn, no one’s around, the sun is so hazy. No insects, no people, the neighbors pink plastic flamingos is on its side upon the brittle grass. The house seems quiet barely any cars. Then I hear it, my name being called. I turn my vision to the left, there’s my father coming out the house, I’m behind him. Everything seems a bit glowy, they walk towards the car which wasn’t parked there before.

“Wait.”, I call out to my father and myself. I blink but my eyes are pressed again and pulled towards something. Once I had my bearing I opened my eyes. We were in the car, they were smiling. They were talking it sounded so muffled. I tried my damndest to get closer to hear, but I’m tugged back but I make it to hear them a bit clearer.
I spoke first, “Dad, what is going on?” He stared off ahead, I saw myself pleading with him. Did we speak about it?
“I kept everything from you, I’ve tried so hard for her. We hide so we won’t be used by people, and they are always looking for us, for you.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, his eyes were turning a bit red.
“I lost many people, and I lost someone who made my life worth something. We need to keep hidden, so I’ll tell you everything. Callixa, you have to be strong for the both of us, forever.”
He stared at me; I don’t know what that means. They were looking at each other as if something was dawning on them both. Something important, what is it? Frantic I kept my eyes on my father to reveal what it was.
A shriek jolted me, “Dad! GREEN!”, I snapped my eyes to the road, headed straight into a sliding truck. In seconds flat, my eyes burned, and felt my body in a scorching pain; I started to shriek just like before. The darkness caved in on me and swallowed me whole.
‘Did I just die?’