You lean on your crutches and make your way up the wide concrete steps to the front door. The Uber driver that picked you up from the hospital was kind enough to follow behind you. He rushes up in front of you and opens the door; an awkward smile plastered across his face.
A flutter of nerves radiates through your body as you nod to him in thanks and waddle through the doorway. As the door shuts, the energy in the house shifts. It feels as if you aren’t supposed to be there.
You meander over to the large, soft couch, plop down, and grab the phone.
“Hey Ginny, I need you to come over if you can.”
“Sure girl, is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “I just got back from the hospital and need help getting some stuff from upstairs.”
“I’ll be right over, don’t you dare move until I get there.” A warm smile spreads across your face and you begin to feel safer knowing someone will be here soon.
Just as you’re getting comfortable, you realize how hungry you are. The hospital food left much to be desired and it feels like you haven’t eaten in days. You know Ginny will be here soon, but you’re not sure you can stave off the grumbling in your stomach for another 30 minutes.
With shaking hands, you grab your crutches and hobble into the kitchen. The muscles in your shoulders and back are already straining to hold the weight of your body and the thick cast. The kitchen is a completely separated room from the living area. The walls are lined with tall cabinets and the tile floor is checkered with black and white tiles.
The refrigerator is on the other side of the kitchen from the living room entrance and you slowly make your way to it over the slippery floor. Suddenly, a crashing noise from the living room diverts your attention a breaks your focus. Unintentionally, you put weight on your casted foot and slip. Your crutches falling out from your arms and the tired muscles in your back taking the impact.
You’re sitting on the floor now, one crutch to your immediate right, the other at the foot of the fridge, out of reach. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you realize how hopeless your situation is. Rather than attempt to get up, you lie down, the cold providing some relief to your strained muscles.
The crashing noise happens again. “Oh my gosh, thank God you’re here. I just fell, I’m in the kitchen.” You laugh a bit, waiting for Ginny to come through the door and laugh along with you. However, after about 5 minutes, nothing happens. “Ginny?” you call.
The house is silent.
A lump forms in your throat as it becomes clear that the sound you heard was not Ginny.
The door between the living room and kitchen slowly opens before your eyes and a dark figure enters. You’re frozen with fear as the figure looms over you. You use your hands to move away from it over the tile.
It whispers “I can’t do this anymore” and crouches down to the floor, its hands over its head. It starts to shake as if it was crying. As you stare at the figure, you can see eyes, a nose, human hands, and tears falling to the floor.
“Darren?” you say quietly.
Before he can answer, the door slams open and Ginny calls “Lee! Where are you?” Her jingling keys indicate that she’s moving towards the kitchen.
You exchange looks with Darren and he vanishes into a thin mist. Ginny opens the kitchen door.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay!?” She asks, rushing over to you.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine” you reply, taking her arm and wiping tears away from your eyes.
Last Week’s Story: Independence Part 3
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