"The night HE came home."

-Halloween


The first thing to captivate me were your eyes. They were endless black pits that sparkled with unknown emotion. When you gripped my chin the way you always did I would get lost in those eyes. I don't think anyone else quite understood the beauty in your eyes.

I had gone out with some friends that night. You weren't expecting me to be home as early as I was but you weren't fazed. I was like the dessert after the main course. The traps were supposed to take me out before I could do anything to protect myself anyways. As I climbed the stairs to my room I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I shook it off as just being the size of the house. My parents were supposed to be on a business trip somewhere in Europe, leaving me alone at our country house. We were pretty well off and I knew in order to maintain that status they had to keep working. I practically raised myself. But you know that already.

I made it to my room and nicked my cheek on a wire just outside the door frame. I cursed, wiped off the blood, and ducked under it into my bedroom. I was beginning to undress when I heard a creak outside my door. Quickly I put my shirt back on and checked the door. Of course. Nothing. I grabbed the small switchblade on my nightstand and cautiously made my way downstairs. You laugh at me now for my weapon of choice saying I could not have stopped you even if I tried. My family was very prone to robberies and I'd dealt with them before so I was prepared. I was, however, not prepared for you.

I was coming to the end of the spiral staircase when I felt a prick on my foot. Peculiar, I thought, there was a nail sticking up. But we didn't have—There. A flash of black in my peripheral vision. I quietly made my way to the source of the shadow and furrowed my brow in confusion. There was a red box. Right in the middle of the otherwise grey room. The box rattled and I had this gut feeling that I had to leave the room—possibly even the house. But I just had to know what was in that fucking box, didn't I? You know how the saying goes, "Curiosity killed the cat," I was hoping satisfaction would bring it back.

"H-hello?" I called out softly as I slowly inched closer to the box, knife poised just in case. My only reply was a violent shake of the box. Once more I had the oddest sensation of being watched. At this point I felt like pissing myself and when I unclasped the lid of the box I almost did. A mutilated man drenched in his own blood lunged at me and I fell back with tears pouring down my cheeks. He had graying hair and was dressed as a priest. The rosary dangling from his lacerated neck gleamed with the moonlight; speckles of blood marring the holy emblem. Blood seeped into my shirt from the stigmata on his palms when he gripped my shoulders like I was his savior. The crown of his head was adorned with barbed wire and his feet sported rusty nails. You really had a sick sense of humor.

"What—Who—How…How did this happen?" I whispered to him in disbelief, my voice slightly cracking. He was sobbing and trying to form words but couldn't. He opened his mouth to speak and I saw the blood caked stub. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the image away but even now I can clearly recall the black blood and the metallic stench that made me gag. You had said he was a heretic in his own church and cutting off his tongue was the only way to save him. I know you better now to realize that was a bullshit answer. He kept pointing upstairs and I figured he was trying to say God was going to save him. Then I heard the quick footsteps and creaks in the floor. I knew you were bound to come at some point but I hadn't expected you this fast. Funny how that works. I began running to the next room but the priest was holding onto my leg. "Sorry, Father." I muttered and hit him in the temple with the hilt of the knife and bolted for the door. I was going to hell.