In the Middle of the Bed (A Saira Collings Story)

September 10, 2003 (Carson's Story)

Three years. No word from any spirits from my past. But this will be the day that changes my life.

Forever.

The beginning of the end starts at midnight.

I awake, smelling something weird in the air that my sleep-addled brain can't put a name to. I roll over, and look at my clock. The number twelve and two zeroes stares back at me, as luminous green as bioluminescent moss.

I stand, and walk towards my door. I don't put on my glasses, though; no need for them when you have to go to the bathroom that's just down the hall.

My vision is blurry as I step outside my door. The air is tinted gray, and more of that smell permits the air. A sound different from that of the creaking house enters my ears. A sound like crackling flames.

I ignore all of this, and continue walking towards the bathroom.

When I reach it, I notice that the metal handle is unusually warm. I blink again, and as I breathe in I feel the strangely thick air tickle my throat unpleasantly.

Coughs erupt from my chest. I bend over, hands on my knees, and wait until the coughing fit leaves me.

I stand back up, then wish I hadn't. More of the dense air fills my lungs.

My legs move by their own accord. I run into Carson's room, and shake him. More dense air-which my brain has identified as smoke by now-fills the room through the open door.

Air fills the container it's in. It has no definite shape of its own, or definite volume, so it takes the shape of the container it's in.

My science teacher's voice flits through my head as I stare in horror at the blurry gray smoke.

I shake Carson again. I even slap and punch him. But, he doesn't stir.

Terror fills me. I put a shaking hand to my brother's chest. Faintly, I feel a heartbeat touch my fingertips.

I laugh in joy, then immediately wish I hadn't. More of the deadly smoke fills my lungs, causing me to cough even more.

As I pull my hand away from my mouth, I see speckles of red on it. I feel the blood running slowly down my chin, towards my neck and chest.

Shaking myself out of the sight of my own blood, I try to pull Carson out of bed. Since he's a lot bigger than I am, I barely move him.

Frustrated, I run to my parent's room. Both of them don't stir as I shake them. Terrified, I run into Fairen's room. She's the same way.

I scream in horror and anger. I see shapes form from the smoke, eyes as red as the flames now licking at the stairs.

We will save you, Saira Collings. But only after you see what you have caused, they hiss, a sound like shooting fireworks.

Terror paralyzes my heart, but not my legs.

I walk into Carson's room, my mind trying in vain to stop my feet. I see his blurry form on the bed, an unspeakable and indescribable guilt flooding through me.

I place my hand against my brother's still face. His eyes flicker open, and I know that they see me.

"I'm sorry, Carson. I'm so sorry." I say, and I feel tears slide out of my eyes, tracing watery gray paths through the ash on my face.

Carson blinks, and in his eyes I see love like no other I've ever witnessed.

"Not-your-fault," he chokes out, his voice hard and raspy. I shake my head, and put my forehead to his. "It is. It is, and always will be. Just like Ashly. Like Sam. You will die because of me," I say, choking on my words.

Carson blinks again, and his hand reaches for the side of my face. Alas, it never touches my skin.

Carson's body goes limp beneath my hands, and I feel something in my chest break. But I don't pay attention to the slow knife being driven into my heart as I close my brother's once-bright eyes.

As I trudge into the next room, my heart and feet as heavy as the smoke clouding the air, I hear the demons around me speak in their strange language.

One down, three to go. Hurry, Saira Collings. Hurry, or you will die a more painful death than they.

Oh, how they didn't know the painful death I would crave in just a short while.