Nothing but the sound of darkness. Their eyes follow me. I see them scratching in the shadows, tearing over tables, clawing out of cracks in the wall. They’re in front, behind, breathing on my neck. Everywhere. They’re everywhere! I run, no longer aware of Mary beside me.
Thump. The footsteps are louder. A howel that isn’t mine fills the air. I trip on the stairs. My knee stings but I don’t care -- I can’t stop. I scramble up the steps. They’re right there. I know it! My fingers stretch to grasp a slippery door knob and a flash of light immerses everything.
The door slams. I feel an empty presence at my side. Mary didn’t make it. I swallow my guilt easily, much too relieved to care.
“Did you get grandma’s old scrapbook?” Dad’s voice floats from across the hall.
Oh no. I completely forget.
He makes a tsk, tsk sound. “Guess you’ll have to go back.”