I lie on the couch for a few moments more and try to catch my breath.
The building’s silence screams at me to move, begs me to; this might be my only chance.
I sit up and scan the room – the woman is gone. Or, at least, I can’t see her.
I slowly swing my feet around and press them against the ground which replies with a quiet creak. I wince as it does this, my eyes darting to the corridor that the woman had ran into chasing the cat. I persevere, and bring myself to my feet.
I step toward the exit, my movements slow. If these things are blind, then I need to just be careful. I need to make sure I don’t make too much noise.
I reach the door, the exit, and slowly push the handle down. A faint gust of wind sweeps around me and into the room behind as the door opens. I freeze for a moment, expecting the worst, expecting one of those things to appear, but nothing happens. I step outside.
I hear the distant rush of the sea, the sound carried to me in the wind. The building here is quite isolated, not too near the sea or any other houses, so I’ve got to get to my car. I briefly close my eyes and draw in a deep breath before slowly walking on the path along the side of the building. The path leads to the staff carpark around the back; right by the fire escape that Harry had been at earlier, so I need to be careful. The path goes right by each of the resident’s windows on this side, so I’ll need to be careful.
As I approach the first window to one of the resident’s rooms, I peek in. I stay low, quiet, as I slide up the cold stone and peer through the window into the dark room ahead. It’s Michael’s room.
Michael sits on his bed. He’s curled up in a ball, legs tucked in, head tucked down. He’s mumbling something to himself, although I can’t make out what. He rocks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He’s shaking as his fingers frantically scratch at his arms, something he does when he’s nervous. I see the glint of something clutched in his hand – I look closer, and I think it’s a fork.
Suddenly, there’s a sound from the corridor beyond his room, a slight bump. Michael jumps and his head shoots up. I look at his eyes – still brown, still his eyes. As he jumps, however, the fork he is clutching clangs onto the metal bedframe. Michael moves to his feet, hands shaking as he holds the fork toward his door in defence. In front of his door, he’s placed a chair; a feeble attempt to barricade it shut.
Michael stands, facing his door, clutching onto the dull fork for dear life. The door slides open.
Long, wiry fingers wrap around the door’s hinge as it’s pushed open. The chair moves away with ease, grating along the floor as it slides out of the way.
A second hand slams onto the ground through the door’s opening. Its fingers clutch at the floor, scratching it as it does so. The other hand releases the door, then slams down beside it.
At about knee height, the top of a head then slowly emerges. Dirty, grey hair dangles down, stroking the floor below. I recognise it as Elssa. I see the tip of her mouth, drooling; saliva dripping on the floor as she slowly crawls into the room. Her arms bend in impossible angles as she moves; her elbows turning inward, her wrists twisting out. She’s not moving as violently as before; this seems more controlled.
The top of her spine has now completely torn through her skin just below her neck. As she slowly looks up to face Michael, the sharp, protruding bone pierces through the back of her head, and black blood begins to drip down her body. She slowly looks up at Michael; her eyes wide with green.
Michael clutches the fork with two hands now, shaking vividly. He breathes loudly, panting for air as he begins to enter a state of panic.
Upon noticing this, Elssa smiles. Her teeth are now fully rotten, and look as if they have the texture of sandpaper. She continues to stare at Michael as she menacingly crawls further into the room.
“MiccHhhaaeeeelllll”, Elssa taunts, “I cannnn sSeeeeEeee yoouUuuUUu”, she quietly sings with a slight smile, her teeth crumbling as she speaks.
She slowly reaches her hand out toward Michael’s leg. Her arm seems to have grown, stretching ever-further as it’s bony frame reaches out, violently jerking to the side for brief moments before she manages to maintain control. Michael watches her hand approach him.
Just as she’s about to reach Michael, he speaks.
“Elssa”, he whimpers, “I’m sorry for what’s happened to you”.
Elssa tilts her head to the side, still smiling.
Michael plunges the fork into his right eye. Blood spurts onto Elssa’s face which now appears stunned and confused. She freezes, her arm retreats slightly. He yanks the fork out, and rams it into his left eye. Elssa moves back, seemingly in a state of panic, of uncertainty, and she appears to start frantically looking around the room. Her eyes dart over the bed, the walls; they seem to go straight through Michael as if she can’t see him anymore.
He falls to his knees and releases a whimper; Elssa moves to react, but it’s as if something is holding her back. Suddenly, Elssa collapses face first in a heap, her body colliding hard with the floor as her arms become limp. Her lifeless face looks to the wall, eyes no longer green.
Michael pulls the fork out of his eye and carefully places it down beside him. He holds his face in his hands, blood seeps through his fingers as he begins to quiver once more.
“E – Elssa?”, he sobs, “Elssa?”
Elssa doesn’t move.
He – he stopped it. He stopped the creature.
But, how? By blinding himself?
He- he had made a noise after stabbing himself – he made a sound after, and the creature, it – it reacted, but - it couldn’t… It just left him.
I can’t just leave him.
I run back into the building, surrounding myself in the building’s heavy darkness once more.
I scan the living room, but all is quiet, so I make my way to Michael’s room.
I push the door open and find Michael in the same position. He looks up as the door creaks. I see his eyes, or – what’s left of them. Blood leaks from the gashes he’s created. What I hadn’t realised was that he must have twisted the fork after stabbing each eye; his circular wounds are accentuated by the threads of skin that dangle over them in threes. His lips quiver, his own blood caresses their edges.
In front of him lies Elssa’s lifeless, broken body. I carefully step over it, expecting it to move, but it doesn’t. It looks worse up close; her body is completely covered in thick, varicose veins - and I mean completely. Bones are pushed the skin to the limit in some places, but have broken through in most. Her spine is lodged where her neck and head meet, protruding out from her back just below. Her teeth had crumbled fully when she hit the ground; a small pile of black dust fills her open mouth, spilling out onto the floor ahead.
I turn back to Michael.
“Michael”, I whisper as I lean in slightly closer, although not close enough for him to grab me, “Michael, it’s Liv.”
Michael’s mouth opens, gaping, and he lets out a low moan.
“Michael”, I whisper harshly, “You need to shut up or they’ll find us”.
I move toward him and put my hand over his mouth, and he stops. I move my hand away slowly.
“Liv…”, his voice trails off.
“Michael, it’s me,” I say, “we need to get out of here”.
“It’s the Woman in Room 1, Liv”, Michael states, almost monotone.
“Yes, I think so too”.
“No, Liv,” he says, now with more conviction, “I know so”.
“Michael, we need to go now”, I quietly state, “Explain it once we’re out of here, okay?”
I take Michael’s hand and guide him through the quiet halls and out of the exit.
We’re almost at the car now.