The Blood Room | Alternate Endings 1, 2, & 3

† TWO - PART 2 †

I wake before my parents can, the room lighter even without help from my flashlight, I realize as I switch it off. No nightmares had come between the random event and now...

I shudder at the memory of last night, still doubting its realism. Yet here I am, nineteen and sleeping in my parent's bedroom because I was scared. I mean, I had the right to be, but what if it was all a nightmare or a mirage? I don't even know if that word works in a sentence like that, but it works for me, I guess.

I take a deep breath, trying to press the thoughts from my mind and get some more sleep, but trying not to think about it makes my brain tug at its content even more, questioning every little thing. I groan aloud. Luckily my parents don't stir.

But I can't get back to sleep, so I head into the living room, both stuffed animals tucked close to my chest, and plop down on the couch. I hiss at its frigidness and turn on the television, making sure to turn on everything else that needs to be on. It's so complicated.

I stand up, making sure to turn the volume way, way down since it's five in the morning and everyone's asleep, and make my way to my bedroom. My No-Face blanket is draped across Bo's cathouse, the mask on it seeming distorted and almost freakish-looking. My eyes skirt the room for danger before I enter, and I dart in to grasp the soft blanket. I pull it towards me and jump out the door, something falling to the grounds softly. I turn, startled, and look down at it.

A golden pocket watch sits face-up on the uneven tile floor of my short hallway, just before the entrance to the bathroom door. The quietness of the house makes its ticking excruciatingly loud to my ears, even over the soft murmuring of the TV. I bend down to pick it up, my body popping all over. My whole family has back problems. Kinda sucks.

The watch is cool to the touch, its chain even icier as I touch it. This wasn't mine and it certainly wasn't anybody else's. My brother probably doesn't even know what a pocket watch is, let alone how to tell time on one. And my parents have no need for one, they've got their phone and my dad's got his wristwatch. Could this be my ticket to claiming I'm not entirely crazy? Perhaps what happened last night was real. Maybe that man I'd almost been 'fed' to wasn't at all human, and perhaps there's something very dark and the furthest from Godly happening all around me.

Now, cliché isn't something I typically like to do or act upon of whatever, but I can't help myself picturing the movie I'd obsessed over-it didn't start with my fascination on the creatures, but it sure as heck fueled it-and the one part in the woods everyone used to quote and make fun of. Okay-and even if this were true, and even if I could be slightly right about this, we'd have a whole other thing to worry about lurking the streets at night.

And, as if by some ironic torture, a commercial plays for a popular show I'd never personally seen before but have asked about.

If-and I mean if (stressing it helps me rationalize)-I'm absolutely correct on this one, then I'd have nothing better to do but sit and wait for them to come back and empty me out, because nothing but God could save me from this future.

I swallow hard at this daunting thought. My feet find themselves again and I shuffle to the couch, my eyes drooping but my mind alert. I've got to keep my mind off this somehow, and mindlessly watching television would seem to be the way to go. If I decided to write, I'd find my paranoia slipping its way into my words, not to mention my music if I decide to sing. The only logical thing to do would be to sit and watch as something happens before my eyes. I avoid specific channels, but come across a rerun of Doctor Who. BBC has taken every episode off of Netflix and Hulu so they can start their own streaming service. That's the suckiest thing anyone could ever do to me. Luckily it's an episode of the Ninth Doctor-my favorite one.

It definitely distracts me until the sun comes out and my parents decide to rise for the day. The bombard me with questions and I answer, avoiding the small details about the woman and the pocket watch I'd found. Looking over it earlier, I had seen my name engraved in the back, which had freaked me out all the more. It sat in my pants pocket, tucked tightly against my leg.

I spend the rest of my day avoiding the fact that someone could possibly be after me for whatever reason. Perhaps what I'd seen in the bathroom yesterday. But I push it away as Tobias calls, our phones connected for four hours until he falls asleep. I chuckle to myself as I sit in my bedroom with every light on, including my computer and TV. I let the noise from my sound maker and the movie playing fill up the room, but only to where it's loud enough for only myself to hear. I flip through the Bible, reading it in different sections and looking over the devotionals on various pages.

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me," I read aloud, smiling at the verse I've come so accustomed to. My mom was always worrying and it rubbed off on me. I used to never worry or fear, and now that I do, this verse, Psalms 23:4, helps me calm my mind.

My eyelids become heavy and the past days' events come flooding back to me. I clutch the book with God's word in it and take a deep, shaky breath. I whisper a prayer up above, knowing it doesn't fall onto deaf ears.

I lay down under my covers, pulling Tigger and Buddy closer as I tug at the covers. My eyes stay open for as long as possible, my mind afraid to go under for hours at a time.

Somehow I fall asleep. I dream. The things I see while asleep are pleasant, everything light and wonderful. Maybe things are turning up. Everything could be headed in an upward direction, becoming better than I could ever imagine.

As I opened my eyes, I realized how wrong I was.