Experiment in Terror 05 On Demon Wings (30 page)

“What, what’s happening? Why do I...”
feel weird
. But I

couldn’t finish it. The room continued to spin. My dad came

into the room with the tea I had been drinking and placed it

on the table.

I looked at it with my heavy eyes and was hit with two

thoughts.

One was that I was reminded of being in Red Fox when

Sarah had drugged the tea I was drinking with peyote.

The other was that I had been drugged, in general.

That’s why my parents didn’t press the pil s. They had been

in the tea and I had drank al of it. They knew I’d be stubborn

and protest. They tricked me. I couldn’t even trust my own

parents anymore.

“You,” I started to say but my mouth flapped shut. And my

eyes closed. Somewhere far away I heard my mother

whisper, “Sorry.”

Another voice penetrated while the world dropped

beneath me. It was Creepy Clown Lady saying, “
Don’t let

her trick you
.
She tricked me.”

~~~

I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I dreamed I was

floating above my room, my back flat against the ceiling,

watching myself sleep as long spider legs trickled out from

underneath my bed. I dreamed I was in a forest again,

naked and bleeding and surrounded by fireflies. I dreamed I

was back on the roof and lost my footing. As I fel , several

demon creatures flew out of the sky to catch me. But

instead of catching me, they stung me with the hot blades

on the tips of their wings, then they each took an arm and a

leg and pul ed me until my body tore apart down the middle

like a serrated zipper.

A faint buzzing brought me out of my disturbing slumber.

My side vibrated. I groaned and felt around beneath the

covers. I was stil in the clothes I had worn earlier, my

Chucks on my feet. My phone was vibrating inside my

jacket pocket. I fished it out with fat, clumsy fingers and

pul ed it out in front of me, raising my head a few inches to

look at the screen, which made my shoulders and neck

ache.

My room was dark as the moonless night outside, with

the only light coming from the hal way, which spil ed under

my door in a neat little line. The clock on the phone read

10:42 p.m. and I had just missed a cal from Maximus.

I closed my eyes, leaned back against the pil ow and

clutched my phone on top of my chest. Maximus was

probably cal ing to check up on me. It didn’t make me feel

any better. With the way everyone around me was acting, I

couldn’t imagine him being any different. I knew he cared

about me – he did, right? – and he was no stranger to the

supernatural. But…I didn’t want to trust him anymore.

Maybe that was foolish of me. Maybe the dark forces inside

were making me doubt him. But I couldn’t help it. I felt

powerless to move and it hurt to think. I needed help and

there was no one to help me. My parents certainly couldn’t

help me. They
wouldn’t
help me. And I couldn’t even help

myself.

Or could I? Maybe there was someone who I could reach

out to, someone who might understand.

I scrol ed through my phone for Rebecca’s phone

number, but of course I had lost that when I destroyed my

old phone. I didn’t even have her email address anymore,

since I had gotten a new one. I thought it was something

like BeccaWineBabe@gmail or something like that.

I brought up the internet browser and went to my email

account. It took a lot of control to keep my fingers from

shaking as I pressed the screen and I hit a bunch of buttons

accidently. I had entered her email in the “To” bar but it was

auto-corrected to Becomeawino, which I would have

thought funny in a lighter time. I tried to type it out again, not

real y sure what I’d even say to her in the message other

than “Help I’m losing myself” but paused when my bed

lurched
.

It was only a little bit of movement, like a garbage truck

had trundled down the street or the house settled on its

haunches. But I felt it.

I lowered the phone and kept absolutely stil , waiting for

another shake.

A low, menacing growl fil ed the room.

It sounded more guttural than a dog. Something deeper,

raspier and slick with liquid.

It was coming from underneath my bed.

I held my breath, frozen under the sheets, and tried to

figure out what to do. This wasn’t in my head. This was

here. There was something in my room, underneath my

bed.

This was
happening
.

I eyed the window, wondering if it was quicker to go out

that way or through the door. The window was closer, but it

was closed and I’d lose precious seconds trying to jimmy it

open. The door was farther, but easier to open.

The growling continued, growing louder, punctuated by

random snaps and snarls.

I didn’t want to even think of what was under there.

Three seconds
, I thought to myself.
I’m going in three

seconds. If I don’t, I’ll be eaten alive. Three seconds.

One...

Two...

The bed suddenly shook again, nearly jolting me out of it

as whatever was underneath began to emerge with a

drooling roar.

Three!

I jumped out of bed and felt a swipe of pain at the back

of my leg as whatever it was reached out for me but I kept

going, reached the door and flung it open. I couldn’t find my

breath to scream so I just ran, straight for Ada’s room.

I heard the smacking, slobbering snarls at my back as I

pushed open her door and jumped into her room. I lost my

footing in the dark and fel to the carpet in a heap, while

Ada cried out, “What the hel ?” in her half-asleep voice. I

picked myself up and quickly ran back to her door and

slammed it shut behind me.

Heart in my throat, nerves on fire, I turned and limped

back to her.

With a flash of light, the door opened at my back.

In the il umination from the hal way I saw Ada very clearly.

She was sitting up in bed, sheets brought to her chin with

shaking hands. There was a look of utter horror on her face

as she saw the thing behind me, the thing that was under

the bed, the thing that opened her door.

There was no time to react. No time to look.

I was grabbed by what felt like hot claws. They wrapped

around my calves and pul ed me out from under me so that I

fel flat on the ground, my arms extended, trying desperately

to grab onto something to save me. They dragged me

backward down the hal , back to my bedroom.

I could only scream.

Ada came running out after me.

The world slowed down in slow motion; Ada running

down the hal , wearing only a skinny white tank top and pink

short shorts. Her hair flew behind her graceful y. Her skinny

bare feet hit the carpet and bounced off as she ran faster,

made her strides longer. Her hands were reaching out for

me. Her mouth and eyes were screaming my name.

She almost made it to me when I was engulfed into the

darkness of my bedroom. The door began to shut by itself

on her. And I was being dragged underneath my bed.

Dragged to hel .

I had no thoughts except for two wishes. That my death

would be painless. And I wouldn’t stay in hel . I closed my

eyes and wasted my last breaths on an unending cry.

But the door didn’t stay closed.

Ada had shoved her shoulder in at the last minute and

she squeezed past with a shriek and flung herself on her

knees, wrapping her hands around my elbows and pul ing

at me, pul ing at me while something underneath pul ed

back. I real y was going to be torn in two. My arms made a

popping noise in their sockets and I could feel the shoes

and socks on my feet disintegrating in a hot pool of liquid

that frothed up my calves.

“Hang on!” she yel ed, and gave me a tug with al her

might. I found strength in my legs and kicked wildly until it let

go. Ada fel backward from the sudden surrender and I flew

out from under the bed, landing just short of her.

“Ada!” I wailed. She went on her knees and hauled me

up so I was total y out of the bed and beside her.

The light in the room came on and we turned to the door

in terror. My parents were standing there in their pajamas,

puzzled and frightened.

“We heard screaming, what’s going on?” my mother

asked in a shril voice.

Ada and I looked back at the bed. With the light on it

looked as it normal y did. There was nothing underneath it

except a few dust bunnies.

But my legs. My legs were a different story. We saw

them at the same time they did.

My mom screeched, “What happened to your legs!”

My Converses were gone. So were my socks. The jeans

I was wearing earlier had been torn off at the knees, leaving

messy, wet jagged edges of cloth. My legs were completely

covered in a thin sheen of vibrant red blood.

“Oh,” my dad said in a smal , shocked voice. He made

the sign of the cross across his face.

My mother swal owed hard, staring so hard at my legs

that I thought she was trying to read them.

She
was
trying to read them.

Ada leaned over and nudged my shoulder down with her

hand. I turned my body awkwardly and looked down at the

back of my calves.

In dark, scabbing writing were the words “your fault”

running down the fleshiest part of my right calf.

My mom continued to stare. She didn’t come any closer.

“I’l get some bandages,” my father whispered to her. He

put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

I wondered why no one was comforting
me
?

Final y my mom said, “Perry...” but couldn’t finish it. I

knew from the tone what she’d say.

I looked at Ada for help. She bailed on me during the

Creepy Clown Lady sighting. I had never gotten the chance

to reprimand her on that. I begged her with my eyes to tel

her the truth. She dipped her chin and her eyes flew over to

my mother’s.

“Mom,” she said, shaking. The fear and adrenaline were

ripe in her voice. “It’s not Perry’s fault. She didn’t do that.”

“Wel , who did then?” she asked. She shook her head to

herself and mouthed a few words I couldn’t hear. Who was

going nuts now? My mom was talking to herself in front of

us.

I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t know, anyway. I let

Ada speak.

“Mom. I was asleep and Perry came running into my

room. The door opened...something...”

She broke off and looked down at the carpet, eyes fixing

on nothing, and took a deep breath. “Something grabbed

her from behind. It grabbed her legs. And it dragged her in

here. It was trying to take her under the bed.”

We both eyed our mother expectantly. Her brows were

raised up on her face and seemed to be frozen in shock.

Then she smiled. It wasn’t pleasant.

“I can’t listen to this,” she said. She turned around and

walked down the hal . I heard her pass my dad in the

hal way and hiss to him, “Oh, Ada’s going along with it now.

It real y does run in the family.”

What runs in the family? Ghosts? Crazy? Ada and I

looked at each other questioningly just as my dad came in.

He sighed and knelt his pudgy frame on the floor beside us.

He laid out the first aid kit and a smal bowl of water and

washed my legs with a wet towel, then anointed the words

with ointment, which might have stung normal y but I didn’t

feel a thing. With the blood washed off the writing was

chil ingly visible.
Your Fault
.

My fault? What had I done? I eyed Ada and my father.

From the way their brows were creased uneasily, they were

probably wondering the same question.

And I started wondering if I had written the words myself.

I had a Swiss army knife in the drawer beside my bed. I had

sewing needles and pins about. How would this be any

different from the cutting I did back in high school? I guess I

at least remember intentional y hurting myself back then.

“That was a lot of blood,” I said weakly.

He nodded and his lips became drained of color as he

squeezed them into a hard, stern line. “These were deep

cuts.”

“Stitches deep?” I asked.

He paused and gave me a funny look, like I was foolish

to care about something like stitches at this point. Perhaps

he was right.

“No, you’l be al right.”

He finished wrapping my leg with gauze and a tensor