After she quenched her thirst out of the bathroom sink, she turned off the bathroom light and started to walk out of the bathroom. But she stopped in her tracks when a noise caught her attention. She backed up into bathroom and closed the door quietly. She pressed her ear against it, listening intently.
She heard footsteps making their way up the stairs. Doors creaked open and closed as the mysterious person slowly made its way towards the bathroom. A tingling feeling spread through her body, making her shiver. Her breathing became irregular. She could feel her heart beating faster and harder against her chest.
Lacy paced the bathroom, biting her nails and thinking of what to do. She didn’t have much time until the person made it to the bathroom.
She opened the cabinets under her sink and climb in, thankful she was tiny enough to fit. She closed the cabinet doors as quietly as she could. A few seconds later, the bathroom door creaked open. A spider crawled onto Lacy’s shoulder, its leg tickling her skin. She flicked it off and focused on listening to the footsteps. She didn’t know who was in her house or why.
Lacy tried to hold her breath while the person was searching the bathroom. She heard the intruder yank the shower curtain open. After a few minutes, she heard the person walk out of the bathroom. She exhaled, grateful that she could finally breathe again without the threat of being discovered. Her breaths came out heavy and ragged as if she had just run a mile.
She waited, listening to the person walking down the stairs. She got out of the closet peered out of the bathroom door. When she saw no one in the hallway, she hurried to her bedroom, the only safe place she knew of. Her fingers twisted the lock, making sure she was safe from whoever was out there. She grabbed the chair that sat in front of her desk and pushed it against the door.
Lacy picked up the phone she had in her room and dialed 911..
After a few rings, an operator picked up. “911. What’s your state of emergency?”
“There’s an intruder in my house. Please send help,” she whispered into the phone, trying to keep quiet. The panic in her voice was clear as her voice shook with fear.
“Where is the intruder?” the woman on the other line asked.
“I’m not sure. Downstairs, maybe?” Her statement seemed more like a question.
“And you’re upstairs?”
“Yes,” Lacy answered quickly.
“I’m going to need you to find a safe place to stay until the police come. They’re on their way. Do you think you can do that for me?” Her voice was calm and sweet, the exact opposite of Lacy’s voice right now.
“I’m hiding in my room. The door is locked and a chair is pushed against it.” Lacy calmed down the more she talked to the woman.
A voice laughed then breathed into the phone before the line went dead. Lacy freaked out and tried to call back, but the phone was disconnected. Her ears caught the sound outside her door. The intruder was running the stairs and was now heading to her bedroom. The person banged on Lacy’s door, trying to force his way in.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The door hinges began to break off, sounds of wood splitting filling her small room.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Lacy looked around the room, desperation washing over her as she tried to find a way out.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
She ran to the window, forcing it to open. Rain pour but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get out.
Bang! Bang! Crack!
The door broke and the intruder walked in. Lacy jumped out of the window and onto the roof of the house. A hand grabbed her, yanking her back in. Lacy kicked her foot back, hitting the person in the nose. They stumbled back and she ran for her life.
The roof was slippery from the rain and her clothes were soaked, so Lacy was extra careful as she moved to make sure she wouldn’t fall.
The intruder went out through the window, coming after her. Lacy ran but as she did so, she accidentally stepped on the weak spot of the house. She screamed as she fell through the roof, her body tumbling down into the attic. She let out a groan as she felt pain shooting through her back. Rain soaked her through the hole. She looked up and saw the intruder staring down at her.
She got up and ran to the attic stairs, which were already pushed down. Pain shot through her body, but she ignored it as she raced to the kitchen. She grabbed the biggest knife she could find.
“Come here. I’ll fucking gut you,” she beckoned the person to come at her.
An amused laugh came from his mouth through the ski mask. The intruder ran towards her, tackling her to the ground. The knife fell from her hand. The attacker was on top with Lacy on the bottom, punching her so blood dripped from her nose. Lacy grabbed the knife, stabbing the person in the chest. She yanked it out, stabbing him one more time in the same spot. As they fought over the knife, both of them received wounds on their arms and palms. When Lacy finally gained control of the weapon, she stabbed the intruder one last time in the stomach. He fell to the ground in pain.
Sirens filled the quiet night. Flashes of red and blue shining into her home. The intruder grabbed the knife out of its stomach, threw it to the ground and ran out of the kitchen.
Police officers broke in the door, guns ready to fire at the intruder. But instead, they found Lacy alone on the ground, crying and in pain.
“Ma’am. Are you okay? Where is the intruder?” one of the male police officers asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said weakly.
Lacy was taken outside. She refused medical help until she saw the intruder caught and in handcuffs.
Officers spread through the house. Searching through every room. After what seemed to be an eternity to Lacy, they came out of the house, shaking their heads. “I’m sorry,” one of them spoke. “We didn’t see the perpetrator.”
A few seconds later, the intruder walked out the house. The police officers didn’t seem to notice him so she pointed at him and yelled, “The intruder’s right there!” The officers looked to where she was pointing, confused. Lacy ran at the person, tackling him to the ground, ripping off his mask and clawing at his face until she saw who it was.
It was her.
She was fighting her own self.
The intruder disappeared. Lacy looked down at her body, blood seeping through her shirt where she was stabbed in the chest and stomach.
A few days later…
Lacy lay on her bed, her room surrounded in so much white that anyone could go blind if they looked at the place for too long. As the doctors entered her room, she pretended to sleep as she listened to their conversation.
“So what’s the story on this one?” The lady asked the other doctor.
“Oh. This one is interesting,” a male voice spoke. “She called 911 saying there was an intruder in her house. When they get there, they found no one. Then she started screaming that the intruder was right in front of them.”
“Where’d she get the wounds?”
“Self-inflicted,” he explained. “She did it to herself, but she kept saying the intruder did it.”
“So there wasn’t an intruder?” The female doctor seemed so surprised by the story.
“If there was any intruder, it was just her. She was an intruder in her own mind.”
“Any reason as to why she did it?”
“They discovered pills in her bathroom. Antipsychotics. Guess she forgot to take them.”
The Babysitter
Babysitting isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.
“I got you a babysitting job for the night.” Martha’s mother, Laura, piped up as she walked in the kitchen to grab a drink.
Martha groaned. Her fingers clasped around a glass cup from the cup cabinet. “Why? You know I have plans with Katie tonight,” she complained as she poured water from the faucet into her cup.
“It’s a perfect opportunity.” Her mother chopped viciously at onions, her teeth chewing mint gum to keep the onion tears away.
Martha took a sip of her dr
ink before responding. “How so?” She leaned against the counter, watching her mom chop the onions.
“I know you’ve been dying to get a cell phone. This is your chance to get one.” Her mom threw the diced up onions into a plastic container, shoving it into an empty place in the fridge.
Martha eyed her mom skeptically. “And I’m going to make that money in one night?”
Without missing a beat, her mother spoke. “Yep. She pays very well and she gives the money up front.”
A smile appeared on Martha’s face, but it faded as quickly as it came. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
“Huh?” Laura knitted her eyebrows together.
“It just seems too good to be true.”
Laura shrugged her shoulder, waving off the subject. “She must be desperate. So are you going, or what?”" She walked over to the table, grabbing her car keys. She jingled them in front of her daughter’s face.
Martha twisted her lips to the side, pondering on the job offer. Reluctantly, she said, “Well, I do need the money.”
Before she could change her mind, her mother grabbed her arm and pulled on her all the way to the car.
“Why the hurry?” Martha tried to pull away, but her mom’s grip was too tight.
“If we’re quick enough we can get some ice cream before dropping you off.”
With that, Martha stopped resisting. Her stomach growled at the thought of the cold dessert. Ten minutes into the drive when they arrived at the drive-thru Dairy Queen. While waiting, she thought of several questions to ask her mom about this mysterious babysitting job.
“What can you tell me about this lady?” she asked while staring at the glowing menu board. “I’ll take a rocky road.”
“I know she has two sons. One’s eight, the other is ten. The younger one is an energetic little kid, the older one is quiet…” Laura stopped talking when they came up to the window where they were supposed to order.
“Welcome to Dairy Queen. May I take your order?” The person on the other end sounded close to a robot from the lack of emotion in his voice.
“We’ll have two Rocky Roads.” Laura stuck her head out of the window. After they mumbled the price, she pulled up to the next window to pay and get their ice creams.
Martha held onto both ice creams while she found a parking spot. “What are their names?” she asked, continuing their conversation about the babysitting job.
“Uh, I don’t know remember. I think Randal and Patrick. Some shit like that.”
“How’d you meet this woman?”
“We bumped into each other at the supermarket when I was going shopping for dinner stuff.” Laura paused to take a bite out of her ice cream. “At first we were talking about produce foods and then she seemed stressed so I asked her what was wrong. Her dilemma was that she didn’t have a babysitter because her last one quit last minute. That’s when I mentioned you, she seemed so thankful.”
“You care too much sometimes,” Martha teased her mom.
“Or maybe you just don’t care enough.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “Alright, let’s go. It’s babysitting time.” Laura took both empty ice cream cups and ditched it into a nearby trashcan.
“And what are you going to do while I’m babysitting?”
“Go out. Take a walk. Enjoy the night air, something like that. Maybe I’ll find me a date.” She winked.
“Ew! Gross, mom!” Martha crinkled her face in disgust.
The two drove the rest of the way in silence, too preoccupied with their own thoughts to even care what the other was thinking. Soon enough they pulled up in front of a two-story house. “This is the place, right?” Martha looked at her mom for an answer. Laura nodded. They said their goodbyes and Martha got out the car. Laura watched as her daughter walked up the cobblestone path to the front door. She pressed the doorbell, a tune echoed throughout the house. A slim blonde woman opened the door. She was wearing a blue fitting dress reaching above her knees with black stilettos. “Hi, I’m Martha.”
The blonde woman let her in and then walked over to the side table to grab black clutch and place her phone in it.
“I’m Carly. Randal and Patrick are in the upstairs room. They need to be in bed by nine. Number to my cell is on the fridge, if you need me.” Carly rushed her speaking while heading for the front door. Before leaving, she looked back at Martha. “Do not forget to lock the door behind me.” Her voice was stern. “Oh yeah, here’s your money.” She handed over five one hundred dollar bills and Martha stuffed it in her pocket.
She followed Carly to the door. “Have a good night,” she said before she closed the door and locked it as she was told to do.
Then, she walked towards the wall clock and checked the time. 8:31 the clock read. Martha headed upstairs, guessing which room belonged to the boys. The first door on the right had a dry erase board on it with names written on it. Randal’s and Patrick’s Room. She walked in to see one of the boys with dirty blond hair running around the room with toys in his hand. The brunette brother sat on his bed, reading a book.
“Hey, guys, I’m your babysitter.” Martha stood in the frame of the door. “My name’s Martha.”
The rowdy kid ran up to her with a huge grin on his face. “I’m Randal.” Then he pointed to his brother who sat on the bed. “That’s Patrick.” He got closer to Martha. “He’s a party pooper.” He tried to whisper but his words came out louder than expected.
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. All he does is sit there and read.” Randal looked over at his brother.
“Maybe reading is fun to him. I like to read. Does that make me a party pooper?” She placed her hands on her hips, waiting for his response. He looked up at her, not knowing what to say. Then, he ran off to play with his toys again. “Bed time at nine,” she said before leaving the room. She could hear the sound of Randal’s groaning as she left the room.
Martha plopped on the couch then turned on the TV with the remote. She was about to switch the channel but the news channel caught her attention. The overly Botoxed female anchor spoke with the same placid expression on her face. “Another victim, claimed in this murder spree that has shocked the small town of Gibsonton. This makes it victim number seventeen. Authorities suggest you stay indoors and lock any windows or doors. No suspects have been identified at this time. If you have any information that would be helpful or see any suspicious activity please report it to the police. What’s your take on this story, John?”
The male anchor turned towards the woman as he spoke. “Well Joanna, I hope they will catch the culprit. They’re sick and need to be put away for life.”
“I think the thing that makes it harder to catch the person is they don’t target certain people. They’ve attacked adults, teens and even kids.” Joanna explained.
“I heard the serial killer takes at least one finger of their victims. I mean, who does that? What would you need with a fi…”
The sound of stomping down the stairs made Martha to turn off the TV before one of her wards for tonight pair of feet could make it to the bottom step.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Martha asked Randal, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, wiping his eyes.
“Larry won’t let me sleep.” He pouted.
“Larry?” she asked.
“He’s my friend.”
“You’re imaginary friend?” He stood there looking at her with a blank expression. “Never mind, I’ll be up in a second to help you go to sleep.”
Randal nodded his head, understanding her words, then ran upstairs to his room. He jumped into his bed, waiting for Martha to come up and tuck him into his bed. Moments later, Martha walked into the dark room and sat on Randal’s bed.
“Where’s Larry?” she asked in a hushed tone. Randal pointed behind her and she turned around to see no one there, but she still said, “Look Larry, you need to leave Randal alone so I can help him go to sleep.” She turned to the young boy. “Better?”
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“Yeah.” He smiled.
“Now, time to help you sleep.” She smiled down at him then pulled out a knife from her back pocket, stabbing it into his chest while she covered his mouth with her other hand. His screams were muffled by her hand as blood soaked his pajamas. The knife slid out of his skin but she stabbed it back in, listening to the knife break through flesh and enjoying the muffled sounds of his agony. “Hush little baby, go to sleep,” she sung, as she tucked the blanket under his dying body. By the time she went over to Patrick, life no longer remained in Randal’s eyes.
“Hush little baby, don’t make a sound,” she sang in an angelic way, waking Patrick up as she stroked his brunette hair.
“Huh?” He got out before the knife went plunging into his chest.
He squirmed against the knife, screaming into her palm louder than Randal did. Patrick received more stab wounds than his younger brother, mainly because Martha was frustrated that he didn’t stop screaming. “Shut up!” she yelled at him. His head dropped to the side. She checked his pulse to find none.
Then her hand grabbed his hand and began to cut at the flesh and bone until his finger fell to the ground. She did the same to Randal before calling her mother from the phone in the house.
“I’m already outside. I had a feeling you’d be done by now,” her mother spoke into the phone as she answered the phone.
Martha walked out of the house and to her mother’s car.
“Do you have it?” Laura asked her daughter.
“Here.” She nodded, handing the severed fingers to her mother.
There was pride in her mom’s eyes.
“It’ll go nicely with the others.” She smiled.
Trouble
(Part Two of The Babysitter)
Martha and Laura are back… and things have gotten more hectic than ever.
Martha sat on the couch, paranoia gnawing the insides of her mind. Her skin crawled, and every few minutes she would find herself scratching her arms. When she realized what she was doing, she would stop… only to start back up a few minutes later. It was a continuous cycle, until she could feel the skin on her arm being torn. Then, Martha looked down at her arms, the redness marring her pale skin. She looked at her nails, dead skin lodged in them—that is, until she decided to pick them out.
Demented (Sinister Tales Book 1) Page 13