Retribution: The Cure for Agony

Chapter 3: Closet Doors

** Warning: Depictions of stalking. **

My tranquil dreams were suddenly disturbed by the sound of shattering glass in the kitchen. My eyes shot open and I stared at the black abyss through my doorway. It was recurring event and I knew I would be vindicated if I killed an interloper. Unfortunately, this mentality gave me a false sense of security, but I knew this night was different because I found trouble going back to sleep.

My heart was pounding against my rib cage and it was difficult to breathe as my chest tightened. I took a deep breath to try to calm myself, but my thoughts continued to fester. Eventually, it started to become such a nuisance that I wondered how long I had been laying there. Squinting  my eyes, I glimpsed at the red font of the electronic clock: 3:04 A.M. God, 20 minutes?

I looked back into the pitch black of my room, thinking it was impractical for someone to be in my house. "Ugh... This can't be real, it never is," I thought aloud with a groan as I peeled my sweaty back from the sheets. There are always bumps in the night whether it's a next-door neighbor, a poorly placed item or even a system malfunctioning. 

It was plausible that I had placed a drinking glass too close to the edge, but there were nights where I left my room and noticed things had been relocated. Perhaps I absentmindedly moved them myself; it was the only logical explanation. Therefore, I knew I was being paranoid, yet I couldn't ignore the feeling of someone's eyes burning a hole through me.

After forcing myself up, I hesitantly walked to the doorway and disappeared into the dark. I stumbled around for a while as my fingers searched the wall for the hall light. They trailed across the texture and the fear began to weigh heavier on me. Thoughts of the unknown swallowed my reasoning like they were laughing at my impotence.

I-I can't.

Someone's there...

There could really be someone there...

And I can't see!

Then I found it. Click.

The hall was illuminated, relieving me of my troubles. I didn't want to be ambushed by a coward with no intention of fighting a fair fight, but now it wouldn't be a problem. I exhaled heavily as I moved further down and into the kitchen. Even though the light above the oven poorly lit the entire room, I could still tell that there was nothing to be found—not even a broken glass. It was unsettling and confirmed that I was actually hearing things. Could I really tell the difference?

I fearlessly walked back into my room and went into the master bathroom. After I flipped on the lights, I went over to the sink and hung my head between my shoulders. I stood there for a few relieving moments until I heard a noise behind me. "Psst." I jerked my head around to see a dark figure standing on the other side of my bed. I swallowed hard, wondering if it were an intruder or a figment of my imagination.

"Psst, come here," the small voice whispered. I deeply inhaled, telling myself it wasn't real. However, when I turned to face the mirror I was petrified to see the atramentous figure standing behind me. It reached out its long, cadaverous fingers and firmly gripped my shoulder. I tried to pull away, but its honed fingernails dug into my bare skin. The monster had no distinct features other than its bloody, serrated smile. "All those scars and not a single reparation," it sneered as a line of warm crimson saliva dripped down my back and into the waistline of my boxers.

My eyes remained fixated on the creature until I felt something crawling up my hand. When I looked down, I saw a molted American cockroach making its way up my forearm. My stomach heaved as the surface of my skin went numb. They invaded the cast polymer sink until it was overflowing and their detestable bodies slapped against the white tile. Many started to swarm the air and the hissing grew louder as the bathroom light faded into darkness. They used their creepy legs to crawl up my back and began enveloping my entire body.