My trembling hands clutched the worn fabric of my ripped jeans, digging deep into the creases as if searching for stability. Trying to steady my breathing, I heaved, knowing I couldn’t stop it. A primal instinct took hold, pushing me to my knees, my body betraying my own will. In a frenzy that felt almost otherworldly, I found myself on my knees, my body betraying me. I heaved and retched, expelling every last bit of whatever that guy must’ve put into my drink.
The memories of the night’s events began to flood back, hazy and fragmented. Regret seeped through my veins as I cursed my own stupidity for giving in. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that damned party, but Jemila always had such a way with her words, she knew exactly what it’d take to get my stubborn ass out of the cramped dorm we shared and to spend time with her. I straighten myself unsteadily, trying to get a better look at my surroundings.
It hadn’t been more than five minutes since that piece of shit tossed me into this godforsaken ditch on some godforsaken road. No doubt, he never expected me to snap out of it so quickly. It was obvious considering the fear in his eyes was almost tangible as he dragged my disoriented self out of his rusty pickup and peeled away, leaving me alone in the dust.
And what did I do?
I just stood there, bawling my eyes out like a fool, till I threw up, not even bothering to check if my damn phone survived the chaos. As my eyes scanned across the dark horizon properly for the first time, I recognized the tall stalks of corn.
I sighed in exasperation. Out of all places, a corn field?!
Bending over and avoiding the disgusting puddle of vomit, I angrily ripped off my heels, which at this point were in complete disrepair, caked with mud at all sides.
I climbed out of the ditch, scouring the area like a bloodhound on the hunt for my phone knowing the god-awful bright green phone case Jemila had gifted me was like a beacon, impossible to miss considering I hated the color.
“Fuck!” I shouted to no one in particular, as I chucked my trashed heels onto the deserted road. “This is exactly why I stay inside!” I contemplated kicking the heels, just craving the satisfaction of breaking something, anything. That douchebag must’ve stashed my phone in his truck. I could feel my entire body heating up like a raging inferno, a full-blown breakdown lurking around the corner.
“What am I gonna do now?” I wondered out loud. My only friend in this stupid state is Jemila, as pathetic as that sounds, and I couldn’t even call her for help now. I yanked at my hair, itching to rip my fiery red locks right out of my head.
Moving my hands to grip the sides of my face, I took repeated deep breaths, “Calm down, it’ll be fine.” I mumbled to myself, attempting to douse the mounting panic that was replacing my earlier rage, twisting my stomach up. Goosebumps popped up on my arms as I scanned the desolate road ahead. Should I stay put here, stranded on this deserted stretch of unfamiliar asphalt, hoping against all odds that a non-psycho would come along at the ungodly hour of 2 a.m. and lend a helping hand?
My gaze shifted to my rear, where a speck of bright green hued windows in the distance caught my attention. Serial killer on wheels, or serial killer in a house? What a fuckin’ great game of “Would You Rather.” Taking a minuscule step forward, I caught sight of my now filthy socks. Honestly, who could blame some passerby for zooming past me if they caught sight of my sorry-ass state? Being near a house seemed safer, even if it meant they wouldn’t lift a finger to help. I could at least hunker down and wait it out there, right? Making the decision, I set off toward the house with the green lights.
As I neared the front of the house, I couldn’t help but notice its sorry state. The dark brown siding was cracked, hanging off, or just plain missing in some spots. I hesitated, unsure how some country bumpkin would react to a hot mess of a 20-year-old like me approaching his humble abode. My imagination conjured up a delightful scenario where Mr. Redneck greets me with a shotgun to my face, leaving my brains splattered across his front porch. The mental image almost triggered another round of projectile vomiting. Shaking off the gruesome thought, I rubbed my arms, desperately willing the stubborn goosebumps to vanish. “Aren’t you just full of great ideas,”
I took a quick scan of the property’s surroundings, wishing for another option to present itself, but all I saw was a sea of corn. Deciding that prolonging this agonizing moment would only worsen my mood, I took a few confident strides toward the door and rapped on it with all the grace of a sledgehammer.
I stood there, feeling the dread intensify with each passing second of eerie stillness. The tension in my body grew as I took shallow breaths, almost on the verge of hyperventilating. I couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance over my shoulder, contemplating whether it was a better idea to make a run for it and hide in the cornfield until morning, where at least then I could look for help with a lesser chance of death occurring.
Just as the idea began to solidify, the heavy oak door I stood before let out a spine-chilling creak. Startled, I snapped my head forward, narrowly avoiding a bruised backside as I instinctively jumped back from the door, and nearly right off the porch in fact. “Holy fucking shit, you nearly scared me to death!” I blurted out, my words echoing into the small crack the door had created. Seconds ticked by, accompanied only by the faint creaking of the door in response to the calm wind. “Um, hello…?” I hesitantly called out, leaning to the side in an attempt to catch a glimpse of who or what was on the other side. A surge of flight instinct shot through me as I realized there was a faint shadow seemingly inching its way towards me behind that thin crack. Without a moment’s hesitation, I spun on my heel at breakneck speeds, mentally cursing at myself for not just resolving to sleep in the cornfield and spending the night with stalks tangled in my hair.
Before I could run far enough away, a hand shot out, gripping my already abused red mane, causing me to hiss in pain as I was forcefully pulled into the dark depths beyond the door. A primal scream tore from my throat as I unleashed a frenzy of clawing, desperately aiming for the unseen assailant’s eyes, when-
I crashed onto the worn-out, creaky floorboards, the door slamming shut with a loud thud. Scrambling to my feet, I braced myself for the sight of the bloodthirsty country bumpkin I had imagined. But to my surprise, he was nowhere to be found. In fact, the whole place was just empty. The whole place was empty, devoid of any signs of life. No pictures, no rugs, no furniture—just a deserted living room with nothing inside.
My eyes darted around, searching for the vibrant green lights that had caught my attention outside, but the room was shrouded in an eerie darkness. I frantically gripped the handle, trying and failing to get it to unlock, “What the hell?!” I shouted in exasperation, my attempts to force it open proving to be completely useless. Determined, I mustered every ounce of my 103-pound frame and threw myself against the massive door, praying it’d just budge.
As I stood there defeatedly leaning my head against the door, something caught my eye. The door handle began to— move on its own? I screamed as it somehow attempted to curl its brass handle around my wrist. I quickly ripped my wrist away, the handle ripping my woven bracelet –another terrible gift from Jemila– off, taking some of my skin along with it. “What in the actual hell is going on?!” I shrieked, stumbling backward and tripping over a raised floorboard.
As I struggled to regain my balance, a chilling sensation gripped my ankle. I swung my body around, trying and failing to get myself to my feet, discovering the same floorboard that tripped me had entwined itself around me, restricting my movements and holding me in place. Trying to angle myself to a position where I could pry the floorboard off, my stomach dropped as I saw the walls, with their tattered flower wallpaper, were creeping closer, like they wanted to smother me alive. I let out an inhuman scream that echoed through the room that was now quickly closing in on me, my fear and helplessness blending into one overwhelming cocktail. Everything went black as I lost consciousness, freefalling into a bottomless pit of darkness.
I woke up to find myself trapped in a confined space, the room now transformed into a bizarre cube-like structure, trapping me inside. In a state of complete hysteria I clawed at the walls, desperately trying to find an escape. Trying to scream proved useless, my voice was completely gone, it hurt to even try. If there was any chance of getting out of here alive, I needed to fight with everything I had in me. Leaning on my back, I kicked ferociously at the wall in front of me till I had nothing left. I heard a loud rip.
The hideous wallpaper tear as I cracked through the wall. I quickly shoved my head through the now bust open cube, seeing what looked to be some sort of tunnel, most likely in the attic space of this hell-house. I forced my body through the small opening, trying to be as quiet as possible even with the jagged wall edges ripping up my arms and torso. As I moved on all fours towards the end of the tunnel, I saw something that made me freeze.
The green light I’d see outside, it was emanating from the end of the tunnel. My heart pounded in my chest as I weighed my options. Should I risk continuing? The green light was both alluring and terrifying, casting an eerie glow that beckoned me forward. Despite the fear that gnawed at my core, it wasn’t as if I had any other option at this point.
Hesitantly, I started to move closer to the source of the luminous glow. The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, my body ached, and I was expecting the walls to close in on me just as they had before, but I pressed on. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to turn back, to try to find another escape, but a glimmer of hope that I could maybe get out of this nightmare kept me moving.
As I emerged from the narrow dark tunnel, gasping for air and covered in dirt and bruises, I found myself in a room bathed in an eerie, pulsating green light.. A sense of foreboding hung in the atmosphere. Instinctively, I knew that I was not supposed to be here, and whatever had attacked me from before was in this room. In the center stood a solitary table, bathed in the eerie light, with two windows positioned behind it. On the table sat a delicate glass vase, holding a single, dying flower.
Driven by pure desperation, I lunged towards the table, shattering the glass vase in my trembling hands, hoping it could be my makeshift weapon.
My eyes scanned the room intently, taking cautious steps backward until my back collided with one of the windows. With a quick spin, I forced the heavy panes open, peering down to discover a daunting one-story drop awaiting me. Well, that’s just great isn’t it. I threw one leg up over the window sill and hoisted myself over, getting ready to jump – when sharp nails dug into my other leg still in the house. I whipped my head around, gearing up to use the broken vase when I saw.
The thing… It was me. It was me, but completely messed up. Its hair was matted, one eye missing, one arm barely attached. “Please stay.” It gurgled at me, its words barely intelligible. I didn’t think twice, and pushed myself out of the window with all the strength I had left.
As I landed on the ground below, pain surged through my body, every limb protesting from the impact. I lay there, gasping for breath, contemplating the damage I might have done to myself. I stared back up at the room I had just jumped out of. The thing. It stood there, silently observing me, before recoiling into the shadows.
I made it back to the dorm after managing to flag down a man kind enough to bring me into the city after I made up some obviously fake story about being super drunk. I needed to talk to Jemila. She was my rock, the only person I felt close to, and I knew she must have been worried sick about me.
As I approached our room, I saw two cops out there, talking to Jemila. I was about to call out to her when their conversation caught my attention.
One was showing her a picture, “Do you recognize these items from the scene?”
Jemila was sobbing, barely able to form coherent words, “Yes,” she paused to wipe her eyes, “Those are her heels and her phone, I gave her that case.”
I looked down at my body, only to find my arm dangling precariously.