I shake.
My feet are clammy against the cement in the corner, never carpeted. Unless you were to step behind the cupboards, which there's really no reason to do, you would never even see this spot. It's perfect for hiding, both people and things.
It's cold, but I can't leave my spot. Carter said that he'd find me, so sure of himself. I press my body flush against the wall, hoping for it to be at least a little bit warmer than the smooth cement that freezes, ice-like, in the winter.
It's not. It's just as cold as the floor, but it feels more real, more rough to the touch and more life-like. It comforts me as I lose feeling in my limbs. I decide to lean back against the wall, breathe calmly, and let it happen.
No way is Carter going to find me here. Never in a hundred years. I hear him calling, as if he's going to get me to fall into that trick again. No way, this time I'm going to be the hide-and-seek master, and I spend my last conscious moments internally cackling about how dumb his face is going to look when he realizes that he was outsmarted by me again.
Eventually, I stop shaking.
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I don't particularly like the house we've gotten, if I'm telling the truth. It's "rustic", as my mother will tell you, which is just polite chatter meant to dissuade you from thinking that it's an old pile of bricks. Which it is. A pile of bricks, worn from red into dull orange-browns, with cracks in the paint and wood floors of every room.
I scope out the house, finding myself lolling down a set of stairs into a cold, dark room that smells even muskier than the rest of the house, believe it or not. Turning the lights on, I'm relieved to see there's not rats. I might've burned the house down if there was.
But still, the smell. It's bad, and it makes me wonder if there really aren't any rats.
Following the scent, I pull open a heavy cupboard near the back, seeing holes broken in the back. A creature of dumb curiosity, I stick my head through to peek behind the cupboards from the holes.
Oh.
Recoiling, I throw the cupboard door shut and push my body away from it, until I hit the end wall on the opposite side of the room, where I promptly empty my stomach all over the only carpeted area of the house. I have rug burns from pushing myself back so roughly.
Once my throat stops burning, I shakily stand to my feet, feeling as though my body and time isn't real. I pull myself up the stairs slowly, my head spinning and my legs giving way.
I yell for my mom, desperately. I need her I need someone I need someone something is wrong Mom something is wrong Mom something is wrong .
...
it's so much worse than a rat.
(exactly 500 words! Woo, it was rough!)
ns 15.158.61.7da2
