2006 Death Solo
Here there be tl:dr
And here we are, out of one nightmare and straight into the next. Darkness, a pure sea of nothingnothingnothing darkness, surrounded her, and left her in the one place she had tried so hard to avoid all these years. Deaf, blind, helpless, unaware of what was lurking...what was coming closer. If this was the afterlife, it was efficiently
unkind.The only thing left to her were memories and finally, a name. To be honest, she'd trade either or both in for some decent lighting in heart beat. A lantern. A flashlight. A ******** matchbook
c'mon help a girl out here...Have you ever played the game of
Mousetrap? A bucket tips and a ball rolls down down down the stairs. A series of events occur and eventually culminate in the capture of the sad plastic creature that never even saw the cage hanging overhead.
There was no real start point, the shadows had always been lurking in the corner of her vision, her parents thought it was simply an as-yet-to-be-determined vision problem. But on a typical stormy night when she was six, Clarice Sinclaire learned that walls, locked doors, and blankets over one's head caused what grownups referred to as a
false sense of security. Something in her closet
laughed, deep and dry. It was a rough, scaly sound, and the little girl told herself it was the wind blowing through the leaves outside. Then the closet door opened and she saw...nothing. This is what her father called the
house settling down for the night. The rasping footsteps treading closer to her bed?
Same thing. But maybe it would be a good idea, to place the blanket over her head. It was chilly, note the goosebumps chasing down her arms? This was a perfectly rational action.
Her bed sank down as a weight settled above her. Something breathed in deeply and exhaled. Clarice felt the heat of it through her blanket. A fine point of pressure trailed across the fabric covering her stomach, like a cla-...
no. No, she had this talk not too long ago, this was
bad touching. She needed
an adult.The harsh laugh sounded again, and suddenly the blanket was tugged down in one swift motion and Clarice's very human rationalizations stuttered to an abrupt halt. Lighting flashed, lighting up a razor sharp smile that glinted starkly against inky black. As the light faded, feral yellow eyes glowed down at her in the darkness. Finally, Clarice remembered to scream. By the time her parents rushed in, the creature was gone, but it would be a long, long time until she a sound night's sleep again.
It started out with flashlights. One on her nightstand, one in a drawer with extra batteries, another under her pillow, and one last pink Hello Kitty flashlight that she cuddled at night and rarely let out of her sight during the day. Her parents tolerated it as a phase, and Clarice decided that just light may not be enough. She began simply with bells on doorknobs. Then came an ever evolving system of chimes, more bells, cans, and soon enough,
actual alarms. At six Clarice had dreams of handsome princes riding gleaming white ponies. At twelve she was dreaming about motion detectors.
By her teens, Clarice was thinking less in terms of warning and more in terms of
self defense. Things started to get a bit risky and well...
accidents happen. Her parents no longer tolerated her antics as a simple phase. As a teen, it was natural for Clarice to feel
deeply misunderstood. The fact that she actually
was didn't exactly help matters. So when her therapist tried to explain that her need to build alarms and traps to defend herself was based on things other than the ******** monsters in her ******** house, she politely ignored it. She wasn't
barricading her mind and emotions from the rest of the world because at least a small part of that world
was literally
out to get her. Cue exasperated sighs and derisive eye-rolling.
It was years before she would understand that they could both be right.
She didn't bother with the medication he prescribed to her, it would only leave her vulnerable. She did, however, take more precautions and learn to hide her efforts better. The lack of near maiming and pepper-spray incidents led to a relatively peaceful household, and the therapy considered a sound success.
At sixteen, Clarice's parents were lost to her. A car accident, nothing suspicious, it was entirely normal. She would be fine, though. Parent's were much like walls and blankets, never quite offering anything other than a false sense of security. She fixed this firmly in her mind and moved on with her life in the only way she knew how. Because things would be okay. She could make them that way. She would be
fine. Better than fine, even. She convinced her guardian to allow her emancipation, and now she was alone with an entire house to secure without fear of getting caught or reprimanded or thinking about the things she couldn't guard herself against. The events that no alarm system could warn her of. Life was fantastic. This was
great. After two years she had managed to graduate high school and had revised her house to a point where it was so secure that she could sleep an entire night through. A house that was a serious danger to pretty much everyone and everything beyond herself and (possibly) a wrecking ball. No visitors allowed, solicitors strongly advised against approaching. She was finally able to sleep, she was finally able to
live...It wasn't a gradual realization, but rather one moment she was preparing for another night's deliciously sound sleep, monitors clear, lights on, sensors up, crossbows loaded, lasers properly adjusted, back-up generator running, bed cage locked, battered Hello Kitty flashlight in hand...and the next she actually
saw where she was. What she had just done just to go to sleep. What she had spent the last decade plus of her life doing.
What she would spend the rest of her life doing.Have you ever played the game of
Mousetrap? A bucket tips and a ball rolls down down down the stairs. A series of events occur and eventually culminate in the capture of the sad plastic creature that never even saw the cage hanging overhead.
Well, Clarice built her own damn cage,
literally. She didn't take the sudden epiphany well. All the control and precision she had excelled in was lost to her. It took five minutes of screaming and banging on the bars to stop and actually grab the key card to open it. That was the high point of her rational thought that evening. The low point was when she was standing on her lawn, barefoot in the grass, staring blankly at her house, her years of work, the place she had grown up in, the last place she had gotten to see her parents alive and well in... as it burned violently against the night sky. She never worked too much with fire up until this point. And possibly that was why she didn't move away far enough or fast enough when a window shattered from within and the resulting explosion hit the yard with a terrible fury.
"...the point I'd like to make clear to you, Clarice, is that you are not alone."Someone was speaking, and it was dark, and she should really be upset but...sleep was nice, she should sleep more.
"...the risks, to one such as yourself, will likely be minimal, my dear."The voice sounded educated, like some kind of professor...like that one guy...in that movie. She pulled a blanket over her head to block his noise. Dimly, she recognized something indicating pain, but was able to dismiss the almost-sensation easily, letting it drop down into the haze covering her mind like low lying fog.
"Ah, I see you're finally beginning to wake, excellent my girl, but please don't fuss too much or you'll break the stitches."Stitches? She felt a weight settle on her bed.
"Don't be alarmed, your lovely face is unmarred by your completely idiotic actions, thanks to my infinitely superior actions. You're perfectly whole...well...except for the eyebrows and hair...but those grow back, you understand? However, an arrowhead, and I mean crossbows? Really? Well, an arrow head shot out from the fire and pierced you juuust..." she felt a fine point of pressure trail along her abdomen,
"...so."Distantly, she wondered if this was the point where she needed an adult. The sensation left, only to return just above her face and she squirmed uncomfortably, trying to somehow burrow deeper into the bedding and away from the touch. She knew this situation...it didn't end well.
A soft, low laugh filled her ears, and the blanket was tugged down to reveal her face. She opened her eyes, and the one looking down didn't look like a monster...a wanted criminal maybe, but not a monster of the style she had guarded herself from so vigilantly over the years. Perhaps that was where she went wrong. This man didn't really look like the dignified professor...professor...
"Professor Higgins?"
The face smiled, and even through her drugged half sleep, Clarice felt a thrill of apprehension at the sight of it.
"Not quite."
Reply
