It happened beyond the door

I've been suffering with dementia for some time now. That is the reason I'm writing this down, so I don't forget how my father died. I wish I could say a loving one but
He wasn't. I believe that's the reason he died. Once the "thing" is summoned it kills who its summoner hates the most. With just one touch of the monster, you would drop dead. At the time me and my brother summoned it, we both hated our father with a burning passion. I learned more about it from an eerie website. I'm not exactly sure what it is but I know what it can do. My brother God rest his soul believed it was a demon. I am not as foolish. I think it is something greater. Far beyond religion. Something unnatural and uncanny. I'm just not sure what that might be. I never saw it. All I know it can hurt people. It has hurt many people, or they have. I'm not sure if it's one or many. You see my father wasn't the greatest at being one. My mother died in my brother's birth. I was 3 years old at the time of her death so I don't remember it much. I don't remember much nowadays. My father after her passing became a heavy drunk. One day he was going too far, or maybe me and Jace were going too far with our game. We were 9 and 6 at the time. My father was up in his room drinking as routine for most nights. Me and Jace were playing downstairs in the living room. Tag I believe is what we were playing. The game doesn't matter. What does matter is that Jace's arm hit the bookcase where our dad's high-school football trophy sat. We watched as it fell. Almost as if it were in slow motion. It hit the ground with a loud crash. Me and Jace stood and froze waiting for the signal to run. After a few seconds, we got it. The signal was his door swinging open and crashing to the wall, no doubt leaving a hole in the wall where the handle hit. We looked at each other knowing what was going to happen. Once he saw what we had done to his precious trophy, he would surely be pissed. He would beat us until we begged for him to stop. He has done so many times before. I was older than Jace so I knew I had to protect him. I whispered "basement" to him. He understood to run to the basement. As he took off my dad reached the ground floor. His face was filled with rage, his fist just the same. I watched as he walked over to me, fist clenched. He looked over to the broken metal clump broken off its marble slate. When he saw it his face glowed a bright red. I heard my brother swing open the basement door just as my father had upstairs. I ran off to the wide-open doorway and nearly pushed my brother down the steps as I slammed the door behind us. I turned on my heel and locked the door to build a wall between us and the rage of my father. I locked the door in a hurry and got down one step when I heard his fists hit the old wooden door. The boom that echoed through the basement scared me so much that my knees buckled. I started to tumble down the stairs and hit the hard concrete floor. I landed on the floor just as my brother moved out of the way. He turned and helped me up off the floor as Father yelled. He yelled not a word. Just a noise. The noise sounded just as you'd imagine rage to sound. My feet stood on the floor now as my brother pulled the string to turn on the light. As the light flicked on Father yelled down to us "I'll pull every brown hair out of both of your scalps!" This sent shivers through us both. We both stared at the door as we backed from it. We stood there next to each other both staring at that goddamn door. He made no noise but we knew he was there. We could feel the anger leaking under the basement door. We turned to see nothing special behind us. Boxes stacked on the back wall. A mattress leaned on the left wall. 6 or 7 wooden chairs stacked in front of the boxes on the right wall. There was an old television that sat plugged in on the floor near the chairs. An opened box sat next to it. There was a VHS player on top of the television. An old nightstand stood next to it. If I recall there on top of it was a bottle of lotion. As we stood taking it all in my father banged on the door once again.
We both turned our heads to look at the door. I looked at my brother just in time to see his eyes tearing up. I looked back to the items in the basement. I looked for something to help my brother get his mind off the door, and pass the time until father calmed. I walked to the opened box next to the television. It was full of VHS. All different types. I saw some with cartoon animals,  live-action movies my 9-year-old brain had no interest in, and a couple with a naked lady on them not knowing what they were at the time. I flipped through them all until one caught my eye. I can not remember what the cover looked like besides I know it had a big eye in the right corner of it. I don't recall what piqued my interest in it but I knew I had a strong urge, almost like a demand to watch it. I put it in the VHS player and pulled my brother over. We sat on the floor as it started. The movie started with a title screen as most do. It read "Thumbelina." The movie started as another bang echoed through the basement. My brother did not notice as I did. I ignored it and continued to watch the movie. I wish I could say what it was about but it has been so long since I watched it that awful day. I do remember the chant that was said. They did not sing, they had a chant. "Nws yog tus uas yuav sawv. Yuav tua tus uas kuv ntxub." I'm not sure exactly what it means but I do know it's in the language Hmong. I just don't know where to translate it. Soon, as if we were one of the girls on screen chanting it we started. We chanted with them on the television. I remember the joy it brought to me and my brother's face. How I hate that chant nowadays. The chanting stopped and we continued to watch the movie in silence. A minute later came a scream. Not from the television but from Father up the stairs. Jace didn't know what he yelled, until years later after I told him. Father yelled, "What the fuck is that thing?" Followed by a thump as if someone dropped a bag of sand to the ground. I heard a soft noise. It sounded as would a slug slide across the ground if you could hear it. When we heard that Jace shot up and ran to the steps and started up. I yelled to him "No" but when the word left my mouth his hand was already reaching for the door knob. Before I realized what I was doing I was already halfway up the steps, as if I blacked out and woke up there. I reached out in the hopes I could reach my brother. As I did so I took another step into the next step. To my luck, my hands grabbed his shirt. As I did he twisted the doorknob. Before opening the door I pulled him away. I stood him in front of me and put my hand on his shoulders. I looked into his eyes and said "Jace what if he is still mad? What then? You open the door and we get beat again. You don't want that right?" His eyes were warning me of the tears that were to come. I pulled him into me for a hug. I don't know if it was to calm me down or to comfort him. I let him out, motioned to the television, and said "You go watch more of the movie. I'll figure out what's going on." Being 9 I had no idea what to do. Hell, I wasn't even sure how long we were in that God-forsaken basement. I sat on that step for God knows how long. Half thinking about everything and nothing, half watching the movie. How I hate that movie now, but at the time it comforted me. The movie was almost over when I realized something. The base door that stood behind me was unlocked. I turned my head to check and I was right. The door was unlocked. Then it hit me like a sack of wet bricks. Dad is still there. He is hurt or worse. The bag of sand was Dad. I got up and slowly walked up the rest of the stairs, to not let Jace know what I was doing. I slowly opened the basement door. Something inside was pushing back on the door. I could barely open it. I opened the door just enough to peek my head out. What I saw brought me to tears. I saw my dad's body laying on the floor. Limp, unmoving, scared. He looked so scared. Before Jace saw I closed the door slowly. I wiped my tears from my eyes. And sat on the step like nothing happened. I knew as I sat there, what the noise was. That sickly noise. That ugly noise. The slimy noise. It was a monster. I came to that conclusion quickly because my 9-year-old self loved the author H.P. Lovecraft. He is the reason my mind went straight to a monster. You can imagine the fear I felt years later after I found out it was a monster. After years of research just to find out my 9-year-old brain was right. The guilt I felt sitting at my desk during research. Finding out me and my brother summoned the monster. We killed him. Of course, at the time, sitting on that step in the basement I wasn't aware of the sin me and Jace have done. I just knew Dad was dead. A monster killed him. When the movie was over I had to tell Jace. His face fell into tears. I expected this. We both knew our lives would never be the same again. I didn't tell him about the monster at that. Apparently he didn't hear the slimy noise. I only told him years later when I found out what it was. I told him what we did. Of course, this made him cry. He fault guilty. The same guilt I felt the day it happened. We went up the steps and I opened the basement door. I led him through the doorway and covered his eyes so he didn't see our father's lifeless corpse laying so peacefully on the floor. I led him to his room still with my hand on his eyes. I sat him on his bed and gave Jace probably the tightest hug I've given to this day. As we sat there arms wrapped around each other I whispered to him "Everything will be ok Jace." With that, I got up and headed to the door. As I reached for the doorknob Jace said to me "I love you Oliver." I looked back at him and replied "I love you too Jace." As I said this I opened the door. I continued to look at him as I walked out and closed the door. I can recall bits of what happened next. I remember crying and calling the police. I can't remember the conversation I had with the person on the phone. I remember they showed up and took him away. They told us he died from alcohol poisoning. I knew at the time that wasn't the way he passed. Jace knew how father had died before he died. I fear I'll be with him again someday soon. Hopefully, this way I don't forget my father's death, and whoever is cleaning my house after I pass knows how Robert Parker Widner died.