There's always a reason to be afraid

My New Father's bed

It all started in 1982. At this time I was around 6 years old. My Family, or at least what I called family, had moved frequently for many reasons. Stalkers, Peeping Tom's, Murders, Paranormal experiences, and many many more. We had moved just recently due to another horrific reason, My mother's death. We planned on staying but my mother wasn't the nicest of ladies. It was like she put a curse on our house. Every morning something from her room was missing and had moved to another place in the house or there would be broken objects such as glasses and door handles and such. My father drew the last straw when we woke up one morning with a horrific sight in our living room. I couldn't even comprehend the smell of the thing lying in our living room. It was dead... Quite dead. Usually a little girl like me would ask her father if it was just sleeping but it was quite obvious to me it was dead. It's head was creaked to the right leaving a long slit on the left side of it's neck and if my memory is correct there was a bit of bone sticking out. It was lying on it's side so it was on full display for everyone to see it's insides spilled out onto the floor. It made my head spin looking at the poor thing. It was so mangled my father didn't even know what it was. My father and I soon moved out of that house and to a small cottage on the edge of the tree line near Lake Tahoe. After the move my Father seemed... Off. Dispite my age he would leave me alone at the house for hours on end. There was even one time when he left me at the house for two days straight. When he came home he was in a drunken daze. He always seemed so depressed and drunk after the move. One day he sent me out to hang out with a "friend" he had met at the bar the other night. The man said he didn't even know my father and apologized over and over for the mistake. He offered to take me out for ice cream but rejected himself because he said he sounded creepy. I was kinda upset since I was really in the mood for some ice cream. A couple hours later, late at night, my father came by to pick me up. He was completely quiet in the truck that entire way home. A year later he enrolled me into a new school but I only saw him at night and in the morning when the sun hadn't even rose yet. I had a horrible feeling about my Dad. He was always hiding in his room and there was a foul smell coming from it. It was disturbing to be honest.

"So how was school, sweety?" He asked. He never called me that. I had my head lowered and stared down at my food and didn't say a word. "Sweety, how was your day at school?" He repeated himself. When I didn't answer he slammed his hands on the table. "LUCY! ANSWER ME!" I looked up at him. My name wasn't Lucy. "You're not my real Dad!!" I yelled at him before flipping my plate of food at him before dashing to his room. My heart was pounding and my head was spinning. I locked the door and tried to ignore the awful smell in the room. I knew my father always had a weapon box under his bed just in case of an emergency. I began to kick stuff out of the way from the bed as the man outside began to pound on the door. "Lucy Dear, Let me in!!" He yelled as he pounded on the door. "No!!" I yelled at him as the smell got worse. He screamed in frustration and tried to open the door. I panicked and squeezed my way under his bed. I reached for the black box under his bed and pulled it out quickly. I opened it with shaky hands. What I saw was horrible. A bloody knife and what looked to be a heart, a human heart. I dropped the box and screamed. Then I realized something. I looked back under the bed and my eyes went wide. "D...Dad?" I called out as I met face to face with the corpse of my dead father underneath my new father's bed.