Lately, I have been thinking of ending it all. I take the cheap revolver off my nightstand, load a single bullet, and spin the chamber until my brain can’t remember where the bullet is. Tears start to form, I pull the trigger, and scream. Click, click, click, Click, click, Click. The gun never goes off because, when I check the chamber like magic, it’s empty. It won’t let me end it, as it watches from the dark corner in my room with a haunting smile, it won’t let me die.
I remember the day this messy nightmare rolled into my lap. I had just finished a 16-hour workday in a job that could be done by chimps with a day of training. It was during a period where, for a month straight, scattered storms would come and go across the city.
The drive home was long. There is something about rain that makes good drivers bad and bad drivers think they are in a Fast and Furious movie. I drove 5 miles below the speed limit because, well, that’s the type of person I am. That was the type of person I was. The rule follower who rarely took risks.
I took a deep breath, smelling the tulips on the front seat nesting in the groceries. This would be a long drive, and I am patient, so I let my mind go numb, watching the cars whip past me.
When I finally arrived, the rainstorm fought the city, pelting my windshield with thick clumps that tattered, like nervous nails on a table. The five-story apartment complex was barely visible with the dark clouds suffocating the moon. Grabbing the roses and grocery bag, I counted to three, and on the third count, I bolted for the front door of the apartment complex. Despite paying for the apartment, I didn’t have a key in the traditional sense. My key was ringing all the doorbells until someone buzzed me in. I was buzzed in almost immediately, listening to several people ask, “Who is this?” over the intercom. A man asked me to hold the door, but he ran so fast that he slammed into me like a linebacker, knocking me off my feet.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping a bracelet, a pack of gum, and an empty pack of cigarettes.
“You dropped,” I tried to speak to him, but he was long gone, bolting back out into the rain. I picked up the bracelet and pocketed it. The right thing to do is to drop it off in lost and found if this building had one.
Have you ever been hiking in the forest and gone off the main trail late at night? Back when I was young, my friends and I would do that. There was always this strange feeling like we were not just being watched but prayed on. As I stood and walked through that lobby, that’s how I felt. It felt like something was watching me. That’s when I first saw it. It was darker than black, like something tore a hole in the universe, and its skin was made of this void, an endless abyss stretching deep into infinity.
“Hello,” I spoke into the empty hallway, but only heard my weakened echo in response. “Is there someone there?” Behind me, a warm breeze tickled my neck, making my hair erect and stiff. I couldn’t move, paralyzed for a single moment. I looked back towards the hallway, and the spot was gone. The elevator dinged, and I flinched. The doors slid open, and I ran to the open door without hesitation, pressing the close door button with the speed of a woodpecker. The door slowly began to slide closed when it stopped.
Something was blocking the door from closing, a foot.
“Hold the door, please,” a woman said, lodging her foot in the gap. I apologized, offering her a hand as she dragged four trash bags filled with clothes behind her.
“Least you can do,” the woman replied with a level of irritation I thought was only reserved for telemarketers and bad drivers. I picked up two bags and carried them inside.
“Laundry day?” I said with a chuckle.
“Don’t worry about what’s in my bag; worry about yours,” the woman spoke, pointing towards potatoes that rolled from my grocery bag and a snapped rose. I didn’t even realize I had dropped the bag but quickly picked it up.
The elevator rose, and I could see this woman look frustrated for a moment. She didn’t press any buttons; I knew most of the people on the fifth floor, so I figured she was visiting or new.
“Sorry, I’m having a very long day,” as she spoke these words, an awkward silence crept in when I didn’t respond.
“I’m River,” River was the first River I have ever met, a river I would like to see more of. She was beautiful and from the ring on her finger, taken.
“Are you new here?” I asked, averting my eyes towards the wet puddles under our shoes.
“Yes, I moved in on Monday, I have no clean clothes. The move was a mess. You?”
“I’m just visiting.” The elevator got quiet again, and I felt like I should have said something, but no words were left.
“I didn’t get your name,” she asked.
“Well, I’m…” The elevator dinged open to a group of five trying to enter.
“Grab the bag for me, please,” she demanded. We walked to the end of the hall, where I dropped off her bag.
“River, have you ever felt watched? Like something in this building was watching you?”
River laughed loud enough to echo through the hallway, sending more laughter when it returned. People probably thought a group was laughing, but it was just her.
“How much sleep have you had?” she asked.
“Well, 3 hours of sleep, 20 hours awake.”
“That’s not the best ratio. Take a nap. You look exhausted.” I nodded, turning away from River.
“Oh, I’m Mason.”
“Mason, get some rest,” the door slammed shut, and I was alone in the hall.
I walked further down the hall but looking back I could see it more clearly this time. The dark void of a silhouette was moving. Maybe a nap would be best if I’m seeing shadows this vividly, I thought. Ignoring the shadow, I continued to walk past it. What’s the worst it can do? It’s a shadow.
I knocked on the door and waited a moment before knocking again.
“Hold on,” she said from the other side.
I smiled until I looked back at the shadow; it now had teeth. Its teeth were small and sharp like a canine’s incisor, but all of its teeth looked like this. A full set of teeth, different sizes but all sharp.
“Hi, my son,” the voice said opening the door.
I closed the door and rushed towards the kitchen to cook. My mother wheeled herself towards the kitchen in her wheelchair. I do what I can to help my mother; she had diabetes, the lose-a-leg kind. They don’t teach you this in school, but when you are a child taking care of a parent, you lose part of your childhood. Can’t go to little Timmy’s birthday when mom needs someone to go to the doctor with because diseases are scary. I love my mother though; she sacrificed for me. Now I do what I can to help her. But on tiring days like today, I wondered what if things were different. What if I went to little Timmy’s party?
After the food was made above the refrigerator, I saw it again. Lying on top of the refrigerator like a flattened hamster in between the gap in the cabinet above.
“Mom, come here quickly,” I said, and she rolled into the kitchen.
“Do you see that?” I asked with the same fear Chicken Little had when he said the sky was falling, like maybe he believed he was crazy too.
“Your eyes have too many bags; are you planning a trip?” Mom said.
I laughed, even though I didn’t find it funny, I couldn’t look away from that thing. Eyes, circular round bulging eyes, that looked as though they were ripped from a children’s book were now above its sharp teeth.
“Eat then sleep,” Mom said.
I walked to the dinner table, and its eyes followed. The storm outside worsened with high winds moving large trees as if they were made of cheap plastic. Mom convinced me to stay, but I wish I hadn’t.
I lay on the extremely comfortable couch. Every light in the living room and kitchen area was flicked on. That thing was nowhere in sight. Maybe it was scared off by the lights.
I was restless, staring at the ceiling until I turned my head. Its sharp teeth, eyes darting in every direction, it said nothing. Just watching me. I went to the bathroom, and when I returned, it was gone, and I slept.
I awoke in the middle of the night, and the room was hot, not like summer on the beach. The type of heat that comes when it’s day 7 of a city-wide heatwave, and you fall on the blacktop. I looked out the window to see screaming and coughing as dozens of people watched from below.
“Help!” I yelled, and the people at the bottom pulled out their cellphones, not a single one calling for help, but recording my last words. I ran back towards my mother’s room.
“Mom! There is a fire.” I yelled. Muffled screams returned as I ran towards her room. She had hoisted herself onto her wheelchair.
As I opened the door, dark smoke plumb, burrowed towards us. Smoke rises from the floorboard of the hallway below us. My feet were feverish, feeling the heat through my shoes. I pressed the elevator, but the light that showed the floors was black.
I could hear the sound of flames above us.
It would be okay; I just had to get to the stairwell. I rolled my mother to the stairwell when the dark shadow appeared once more. Its bulky eyes watched as I pushed her towards the stairwell and smiled. River opened her room door, carrying a backpack.
“River, help me, please,” I yelled at her. She looked at me, then the exit, nodded her head, and bolted towards the stairs.
“It’s fine; it’s going to be okay, Mom; it’s fine,” I tried to reassure her things would be fine, but really, I was reassuring myself. I opened the door to the stairwell and took a breath of smoke, causing us both to cough. I used my weight to slowly lower her down the stairs one stair at a time.
Around floor 4, it felt like I had stepped in gum. It was only after looking down did I see my shoes and the wheels of her cheap wheelchair were now melting into a black tar-like substance. I still trudged on.
“Don’t worry, Mom; we are going to get Dad and find a new place to live,” I said.
It snapped; the right wheel snapped, rolling down the flight of stairs. Looking up the first above, it just now hit me that the power was out. The fire above was lighting up the stairwell. We were two stories from the ground floor when part of the stairs above us crumbled.
“Go!” Mom said, with tears in her eyes. I refused, trying to carry her, but she cried harder, telling me to go.
“No!” I yelled repeatedly, the sound of flames whiffing could be heard getting louder and closer. “We spoke no words, but it was clear she wanted me to save myself.” Saving myself didn’t even cross my mind. I dragged my mother, despite her being double my size, down the stairs, or at least I tried to, but her body was far too heavy, and I was weak. I could see the void again watching and smiling.
“Mom, I will get help,” I said, looking up at the flames getting closer.
“Go!” She screamed.
I ran faster than I ever had before, but one floor down, her screams carried through the building in pauses as gasps and coughs could be heard. The stench filling in the air was… I was running until I finally reached the emergency exit.
Several firemen were fighting the fire; I told them where my mother was, but they refused to enter. I tried to go back, but they wouldn’t let me.
I don’t want to think about this tonight, but they don’t tell you about the interviews. When stuff like this happens, you are interviewed over and over again. I didn’t want an interview; I wanted help; I wanted my mother not to be… there; I wanted her to be alive.
I remember walking towards my car, and I know it was real, but I pinched myself as I cried, and for a brief moment, I smiled, knowing this was just a nightmare, and I would wake up on that couch, and everything would be okay. I pinched myself until crimson dripped down my wrist, and I pinched until my nails met bones; I was not asleep.
I sat in my car just crying, not wanting to go home. I thought that things couldn’t get any worse, but as I looked to the right, it was there. It was almost in the shape of a person, its glowing cartoonish round eyes, its sharp teeth, staring at me with a smile. Things would get far worse.
The memory is over, I spin the revolver once more clicking several more times; it won’t let me die. It’s not finished with me yet.