Page 2 of Into The Darkness

I chant the phrase my mommy taught me when I told her how scary the darkness is. She would push strands of hair off my face as she tucked me in.

“If you are ever scared of the dark, you just need to whisper to it.”

“What do I tell it?”

“Into the darkness I go, and into the light I’ll be.”

“Just tell the scary pitch-black?”

“Yes, baby. You just keep repeating that until you get to the light. You will always get to the light.”

I remember her words as I brave down the stairs. My brother’s strained cries soften as I finally reach him, and he’s fumbling with opening the drawers. The kitchen is dark; like when Walsh and I play hide-and-seek and I close my eyes to count. The rooms in our house are so big that one day when we were younger, Walsh went an entire day not being able to find me while playing hide-and-seek.

The low hum of the fridge is the only noise. Walsh’s eyebrows are furrowed, so I hurry to reach him.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I stand in the cold kitchen. Why is it so much cooler here? It feels . . . empty.

“Ember!” my brother screams. “What are you doing? I told you to stay in the closet and not come out.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I need scissors. Dad is tied up, and I need to cut the rope.” My brother seems so much older than he is. He reminds me so much of Dad.

Wait, Dad is tied up? “What happened to Dad?”

“Not now, Ember,” Walsh scolds.

“They are in the drawer next to the sink.” Mommy likes to keep them next to the sink so she can cut up food easier, especially the turkey on Thanksgiving, which is in a few days.

“I need you to go sit down in the front room,” Walsh barks while opening the drawer. The scissors are exactly where I told him.

“Why?” I look around the kitchen. “Where is Dad?”

I turn the other direction, into the family room, making my way down the small hallway toward the living room when Walsh screams my name. I ignore him, like usual, and tonight will be no different.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the shadows.Into the darkness I am, and into the light I’ll be.I repeat my mommy’s phrase over and over as Walsh runs to catch up to me.

“Dad! Ember is coming!”

As I round the corner and land in the archway of the room, I see it.

My father’s white collared shirt he wore to work is soaked in blood.

“Daddy?” Walsh tries to grab me from behind, but I push as hard as I can and run to where my father is tied to a chair.

Walsh rushes behind Dad to cut the rope.

“Baby girl,” my dad cries.

“Are you okay?” None of this looks okay, but I am so confused.

“I am fine,” he tells me, but I know by the way his voice cracks that he is anything but.

A tear rolls down his cheek as he looks down.

There is my mother, lying in a pool of blood, looking so cold.

“You should get her a blanket,” I state, which makes Walsh cry again and leave the room.

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