by Katie Moran Brennan
Not here. Not now. Had they followed her?
The cupboard was pitch black with only the slightest glimpse of light from between the uneven doors of the cupboard.
My breaths are short and I dare not move. They might hear me otherwise.
He might hear me otherwise.
There it is again, the slightest sound, no louder than a breath, from one of the other rooms.
Someone was in the apartment with me.
Why does this place have to be so small?
Then I hear him and I know for sure its him.
“Jenny! Where are you?”
He’s looking for mother.
It’s father. I haven’t talked to him in weeks.
Father is crazy. He’s always managed to covered it up with his fake personality.
He has hurt mother and many others in horrible ways.
Mother and I ran away and decided to live here, it’s perfect.
Very far away from father.
Yet he found us.
How did he find us?
When had he come in to the house? I can’t remember, my mind won’t work, it seems to be crying. Could that be a good idea? Crying? Crying sounds good.
I honestly don’t care anymore.
I let the silent tears stream down my face.
As if he hears me he calls my name.
“Marie? Are you home?”
Ignore him Marie! Just think.
The cupboard is beginning to feel very cramped.
Think, Marie! Think!
Mother and I have just moved in and my mother being her sociable self had made new friends and went out for the night.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Mother had asked.
“I’ll be fine!” I had laughed. Mother and myself both knew it was fake.
Mother wasn’t usually serious, it just wasn’t natural to her, but when she was, her startling green eyes dulled which caused her to look older. I have those eyes, and that hair too, in fact you barely saw father in…
He made another sound. In the kitchen this time.
He’s moving around the apartment quickly. Most of our stuff is still in boxes in the hall. It would usually take me ages to squeeze by.
I feel fear shiver down my spine. My hands begin shaking and I try to breath on them, hoping they would stop moving. I can’t give away where I’m hiding.
Minute by minute the silence becomes creepy and the temperature seems to drop until I swear that someone has turned off the heating.
Then the taps turn on. He’s trying to lure me from the cupboard.
So he knows someone’s home…
This doesn’t help the overwhelming feeling of fear.
I feel like I’m four years old again.
That scared and alone feeling.
Chaos suddenly explodes in the house.
The T.V turns on in one of the other rooms blaring at full volume.
Followed by the hairdryer in the bathroom.
Then the radio half singing half screaming something about being happy, the irony makes me cringe.
It lasts about five minutes, causing my ears to feel like bursting.
Then there’s another silence, longer this time, it’s much worse.
“Maybe he’s left…” I think.
The silence caused me to find breathing harder.
Not a good time to figure out your claustrophobic.
I scream in shock as the cupboard doors fly open.
I’m frozen and can’t move.
Death had been sent to me on a silver platter.
If not death… Knowing father…. Something worse.
My little light would flicker out and be gone forever.
As my eyes adjust I reopen my eyes…
I don’t remember closing them…
There, stood, mother.
“Marie? What are you doing in there?”
She laughs and put down the bag in her hand to help me out of the tiny cramped space.
“Marie, you know yourself that by now you should have gone…”
Mothers hand stopped rigid and I fell back into blackness.
“Mother….Mom?” My voice is a high squeak and I don’t recognise it.
I look up at mother just in time to see her eyes roll back into her head and the tip of the dagger burst through her chest.
This time I can’t scream.
I’m pulled out of the closet by an unexpected force and I fall forward onto my face.
I don’t feel it anyway, I’m completely numb by now.
I hear laughing behind me.
I somehow twist around and look up.
That’s the last thing I see.
I’m directly staring into the eyes of the madman.
The eyes of my father.