The First Born

1, 2, 3" echoed from the young boy's voice "here I come". My breath caught in my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that he wouldn't find me. But instead of hearing his soft voice yelling “found you”, there is a loud thump. My eyes fly open I spring up from the pillows that were concealing me. I search the room for the sound it wasn't that far away. I hear a whimper and follow the low pained whimpering. The room is dark, and I must squint my eyes to even find the light switch. I slowly feel the wall for the light switch and my heart starts pounding shooting cold sweat done my neck. Somethings not right but I can't think what it can be. Maybe it's how quiet the room is and how suddenly I don't remember hearing the whimpering stop. When I turn on the light the room fills with white and it takes me a moment to just my vision to the harsh light but when I do my eyes jump immediately to one thing. In the corner of the room in the open-closed door, a single red blanket drapes over a human figure. 

A giggle fills the air, but the soft childlike laughter turns into a harsh loud booming laugh then suddenly coughing but the human figure doesn't change position only where the mouth should be gaps in as if someone was struggling to breathe. suddenly I realize that I haven't heard him say anything anymore and fear seeps into my bones. Blood pounds through my ears. Why was I so scared? It was just hidden and sought. I slowly walked over to the closet and reached my hand over to the red towel. I almost pulled my hand away when I hear a shallow breath come from under the pillow. But instead quickly ripped the blanket away. The air left my body sending a cold sweat to drip down my back. Why was I so scared? It's just a game of hiding and seeking nothing else.

I rip the red towel off the figure and a gasp of breath leaves my body. I pull my hand away as quickly as I can and in fear fall back landing onto the bed. The figure in front of me writhes in pain, the open wounds leak a dark green fluid. Pieces of different things are sewed on the figure with thick black thread. Where the eyes should be are sewed shut surrounded by grey-blue skin puffy and pink at parts. The figure claws at the air causing more fluid to leak on the wooden floor. I sprint for the door, but my head begins to spin and the door from on me starts to sway. Then I’m on the ground and four people loom over me, a dark figure, two figures in dark cloaks, and a young boy. The world spins and sways making my vision bet darker than I see a bright light piece through the darkness. 

Then it all comes back to me everything suddenly comes back to me. I felt alone. It had been only a year since William had died in despair. My family had moved as far as we could from our monsters. We ended up in a huge house with other huge houses around. I trudged to school every day and even started to forget William but of course, we can never forget him. One day while looking around for a book in my dad’s office. Inside a book wedged between pages, I found a half-burnt picture of him. The more book I pulled the more I found all having different symbols, burn marks, or cuts. Seeing his face made me angry but the curiosity of why my father had vandalized all the pictures of my precious brother made me tear all the books from the shelf. The stack of pictures sent me back to what happened that night. The symbols were all like the ones around his small figure. 

I desperately continued to tear the book from the shelves and only stopped until I found a large space behind a row of books. I reached a trembling hand in trying to feel for something only to be met by a cold cord in my hand. I softly pilled it shining light on to a shrine filled with Williams pictures, candles, twigs, and dried herbs. There were also black books bound together with twine that made me feel sick and my head spine. I heard a voice whisper to me something in a foreign language fear entered my body making me run as fast as I could to my room. 

That night I could sleep because every creak in the house made me jump in fear. The voice was quieter until it was gone completely. 

I slipped into sleep tired from being restless. I let the darkness take me slowly making my limbs feel heavy. Then suddenly I hear the voice close to my ear sending shivers through my body, but no part of my body could move even as my brain screamed to run. I could only open my eyes after willing them to open but once open I wished I could shut them closed tight. A dark figure loomed over as dark as night. A burning foul smell came from the figure making me gag. The figures chanting got louder and louder making my body burn. A piercing scream left my mouth triggering a small giggle from somewhere in the darkness so familiar it made my thought swell with sadness. The laughter was familiar, so familiar and so close. Then suddenly the figure moved away from me and I could move my body again.

 I started to run away from the figure leaving my room at full speed when I felt a small hand on mine. I looked down to find the small boy's familiar face laughing at me “William” I whispered through breaths as we ran. He doesn't say a word. He's the same way I always remember him. Small for his age even when he was nine. His head full of curly blond hair and his signature button-down and khaki pants. That is how I remember him not dead on the ground bleeding out in a dark room. I remember him laughing as we played catch outside, not covered in a herd with symbols covering his body and the floor. I remembered him laughing in the morning at the comic with me in the paper not dead. I couldn't remember him dead not lying lifeless on the floor. How could this child running with me be him and was he alive? 

I stopped, “Will is that you? How are you?” But before I can finish my sentence his eyes fill with fear as he pulls my hand towards a room. He doesn't speak but I get what he's trying to say run. I follow him into a room mainly used for storage filled with old boxes filled to the brim with what I call junk. William stopped and closed his eyes listing and I did the same. I didn’t hear anything. We make our way over to the farthest wall and he motions for me to move a box. I follow his direction and shove side the box revealing a small door made of thick brown wood. William quickly climbs in and motion for me to follow I do. Inside William begins to talk fast.

 “Listen you have to listen because I don't have much time” I nod, and he continues. “Our life is a lie, our parents aren’t who they say they are, they are killers trying to bring back a child before we were born”. I almost laughed. It all sounded too exaggerated to seem real and I’m the oldest. How is there someone older than me? “We are just simply sacrifices brought to the world to bring back the dead”. I shake my head how not my parents were always good to us, never hit us, never hurt us, we’re always there for us. “Listen they are not who we think they are. Please listen then hurt me sacrificing me to a demon that promised them to bring back the child, but it didn’t work and now they want to sacrifice you”. I looked into his eyes and wondered if this was my brother. “It can't be true William. I'm imagining you; you died that night you are landing on your head and because I was asleep instead of taking care of you to bleed out”. The thought fills my brain “There is no way that our parents are these evil things. You did it, it was my fault there was no sacrifice and I'm the oldest” I scream. “I went crazy after that and started seeing things and heard your voice, but you weren’t real. You aren’t real! I lost my mind and was diagnosed with schizophrenia but no matter how many pills or doctors I saw I could forgive myself. But once we moved, they went away. You went away” my voice got louder making William wrap his hand over my mouth “I’m not I’m just a ghost but you need to listen because you don't deserve what happened to me,” he says with fear in his eyes. I reach a hand over tears flowing down my face and try to touch him, but my hand doesn't connect with anything. “I'm sorry,” I say and start to climb out of the small room. William claws at me trying to make me stay but his hands go clearly through me. Once I swing open the door stars shoot through my vision blood trickled down my head. I look up to find my father standing over me with a wide smile holding a lamp in one hand splattered in blood. “Hello son,” he says coldly then the darkness fills my vision. 

I wake up cold laying on the ground with blood dripping down my forehead. I try to wipe away the drop, but something keeps my hands bound to the ground. My vision blurry and then my father in front of me wearing a cloak my mother stands next to him wearing a similar cloak. They start to chant. My mother throws herbs over me. Then my father appears with a silver knife. “Dad no” I scream trying to pull myself away. My mother nor my father help all they do is continue to chant in unison “you are special and your blood will bring back those who have passed” blood drains from my face and I try to escape again. They continue to chant “we stand her sacrificing to bring back the child we hold dearly most” tears string to my eyes and I whisper one name “will''. The chants continue then my mother proceeds to draw symbols on the ground than on my skin making me scream louder. I continue to fight but I quickly run out of energy and I look away from the people I called parents. Will appears next to me and holds my hand. “I'm sorry” he whispers between tears. The dark figures appear over me so close I can feel his breath on his face. William doesn't move, he just holds my hand. The chanting content and the knife shines as it is held up in the air. I squeeze my eyes shut praying for someone to save me. The chanting gets louder, the dark figures' foul smell burns my throat, William pleads for my life. Then it all stops, and the darkroom is filled with white light. Everything diapers. I wonder if I'm alive anymore.