One hour until midnight

Scarlett .

One hour until midnight.

The noises always begins an hour before midnight. Floorboards creaked and voices

echoed down the hall. It was like this every night. I curl into my bed, frozen and afraid.

Footsteps pad down the hall.

Soft. Quiet.

They stop just outside the door.

Silence.

There’s no one there. There’s no one there.

The words echo in my mind as I pull the blanket over my head.

The door bangs.

Silence.

My breath comes out short as I force myself to pull my knees closer to my chest.

Eyes wide.

Heart thumping.

It’s not real. It’s not real.

Yet this is the realest thing that has happened to me.

I force my eyes close. Trying to sleep.

Its always here 1 hour till midnight.

—————————————-

Pam.

I wake up before her.

Toast browns in the toaster. Eggs sizzling in the pan. The kettle whistling.

All cooking by 6am. I set up the table, clearing off old tools and mess left there from the

night before.

I hear the heavy footsteps of someone walking down the hall not long after.

My daughter.

She is pale, eye bags swollen and cheeks puffy. She looks sick.

“Good morning darling, you’re not looking too good,” she looks up at me, her eyes blood

red as she sat herself at the small dinning table.“It happened again, the noises,” I shake my head, bringing her food over as I seat myself

on the other side.

“Its not real, it’s just your head playing tricks on you,” she shakes her head back, eyes

looking down at her eggs on toast.

“I don’t think so. It always comes at the same time,” she looked at me then, fear and

something else leaking from her face, “theres something here, I know it.” I laugh,

buttering my toast and taking a bite.

Something inside me twists.

I force myself to smile.

She turns away from me then, playing with her food as she stares blankly at the table.

She leaves soon after, getting ready for school as I clean up.

The morning fog clings to the glass. Soon enough, the sun will burn it away. It always

does.

The dishes clatter in the sink as I scrub without looking, the food soaking in warm soapy

water.

I wave off Scarlett as she leaves through the front door, her black uniform a contrast to

the sunny day.

I turn away from the dishes as soon as the door closes shut.

I head for my bedroom. The floorboards creak beneath each step. Behind me, another

creak answers.

I don’t turn around.

I reach the end of the hall, opening my door and entering my closet.

Something watches me.

I feel it at the back of my neck.

Waiting.

I turn.

The doorway remained empty. Nothing.

I change quickly, lock the front door behind me and head to the shops. The walk was

just five-minutes down the street, the foot path old and warn, just like our

neighbourhood.

A perfect place to raise Scarlett. The thought of Scarlett brought me back to my late husband, her father. She was so

much like him, but she would never know.

I enter the store, grabbing a trolly as I weave my way through the aisles.

I don’t remember why I am here.

I grab stuff from the shelves as if my body knew what we needed, some toilet paper,

noodles, extra cutlery, pills.

I turn into the next aisle and nearly crash into someone. A sharp yelp cuts through the

store.

“Oh Pam, how lovely to see you,” I look up, a short woman with neat a brown bob smiles

at me. her eyes bright with life, and cheeks full and healthy. I force myself to smile at her.

She smiles back. I can’t remember whether we’ve met today already.

“Julianna, it hasn’t been long enough,” she laughs and waves her hand at me.

“I was just talking about your daughter to my husband last night. She is very pretty,” I

nod and try to weave around her, but she side-steps and blocks me.

“Your house has been noisy lately.”

She lowers her voice.

“Doors banging.”

“Around eleven.”

“That wasn’t us. Scarlett and I were in bed by nine. We slept right through it.” I avoid her

eyes, pretending to study the spices. My hand settles on the saffron. She scoffs behind

me.

“I will be talking to the police about this if it happens again,” I turn away, walking faster.

My stomach knots.

It's not me.

It's him.

—————————

Scarlett.

The same thing happened repeatedly each day. I wake up late at night. I wouldn’t sleep.

Mum would tell me that it's nothing. And I would go to school just to get bullied and sent

to the office where I now sit with the councillor.

“Is something going on that you need to talk about?” the old lady, with long grey hair

braided over her shoulder looks at me, her eyes showing nothing but concern.“Nothing,” I look out the window keeping my answers short.

“You’re in a safe place, and you have nothing to worry about,” I feel her hand reach my

knee as I turn back to look at her. She was different from my other councillors. Kinder.

“I think there is someone in the house, but no one seems to believe me,” I watch as her

kind smile twitches.

Worry?

No, it never is. They all think I’m crazy.

“Why do you think this?” My eyes widen.

“Because there are strange noises every night at 11pm.”

“And when did these noises start?”

“A few months ago. It started quiet, then stared to get louder.” The lady sat up then,

understanding washing over her face.

“And was this around the same time you heard about your dad?” confusion washes over

me.

“What would I have heard about him?” The nurse looks at me then, puzzled and

concern washing over her.

“Has your mother not yet told you?”

“I have never met nor seen my father,” the nurse looks more concerned then, worry

flashing though her eyes.

“I believe you should talk to your mother,” she concludes the session then.

The bus seats scratch the bottom of my thighs as I stare out into the blue sky. Not a

cloud cross as we stopped just outside my house. I walked out, not looking once at the

bus driver before stepping onto the cement foot path. My mum sat out front, an

unknown look on her face as she smiles at me.

I climb the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

“Hi darling, how was school,” I feel myself smile back, careful with my words.

“It was ok, they sent me to the councillors office again.” Her face twitches at that, her

smile falters. Just for a second.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Pause.

“People just don’t understand.”She leads the way into the house where I drop my things by the door.

I follow her inside. Her movements are stiff, almost mechanical.

“The councillor mentioned my dad,”

Mum freezes.

A cool draft slips through the kitchen, raising goosebumps along my arms.

“She said that something happened to him,” A strange sound escapes her. Quiet. Wet.

Almost a laugh. I walk up beside her, grabbing her shoulder lightly.

She turns, her face stiff.

“Your father ran away.”

She turns back to the bench, plucks a handful of daisies from the jar and reaches for the

knife block.

The blade slides free.

She places a flower on the chopping board.

Chop.

The white petals scatter.

Chop.

Another flower loses its head.

“Mum… are you ok?” I backed away a bit, every instinct yelling at me to run.

“I’m ok darling, let’s just have dinner.” I walk to the table, seating myself in my normal

spot.

“Do you want to know why he ran?” She slams the knife into the chopping board, turning

to me.

Her smile strained the sides of her face. It didn’t look right.

“Because he’s weak,” a small laugh fell from her lips. She grabbed the plates and sat

them on the table. A spoon for me and a fork for her.

“Let’s not talk about him tonight, you have me, and that’s all you’ll ever need,” she looks

down at her food as she says that. The smile staying exactly where it is.

I lift the spoon to my mouth.

Bitter.

Metallic. Like I’d swallowed crushed tablets.

I look up.

The world spins around me.

I’m caught in its centre.

“What did you put in this?” I push up from the table, trying to walk towards the front

door.

My legs buckle.

Pins and needles spread through my arms.

My fingers won’t close properly.

I try to keep going, holding myself up on the wall to my side.

My knees give way.

I hit the floor.

I take one last look at my mum, but she’s not smiling.

My head falls before everything goes to black.

——————————

Pam?

What have you done

I see, more then feel myself grab my daughter, dragging her through the kitchen, down

the hall and into the basement.

I can’t control myself.

I never could.

A muffed laugh falls from my lips. I watch helplessly as I move boxes and shelving units.

A large metal door sits there.

I watch my hands drag my daughter into the room.

Her head catches against the doorframe.

I scream.

Nothing happens.

I look at her body, laying still as blood pours from her head. My head move up.

One look.

I feel myself quickly take over as I collapse and vomit on the ground. It wasn’t me.

Control floods back into my limbs.

I run for my daughter.

He pulls me.

I fight him.

I fight the urge to shut the door and leave my daughter.

“No.”

“No, no…”

My arms and legs shake as I force each step, “she is my daughter, you won’t hurt her

again. ”

“You won’t hurt anyone again,” tears are falling from my eyes, as my muscles protest.

He pulls me back.

Back into my cage.

My hand reaches for the door, starting to pull it closed. I try to cry. To scream.

I have no control.

I watch as my daughter stirs.

——————————————

Scarlett.

I peel open my eyes, the chemical light bleeding through them.

My breath catches as I look around.

Bodies.

Rows of them.

My heart drops.

A scream rips out from me as I turn to face my mum. She holds the handle of the door.

She looks as if she’s going to shut it.

She smiles.

I throw myself at her.

I barely touch her before she catches my wrist.

Her fingers tighten. Pain explodes through my arm.

She slams me onto the concrete.

I pain vibrates through my skull, my head still thumping from whatever I ate.

My vision blurry, I try to turn my body around and crawl out the door.

“Mum, what are you doing,” I whimper out. I look over my shoulder.

She’ standing there.

Still smiling.

A hammer hangs loosely from one hand.

“I’m not your mum.”

My mind refuses to make sense of the words.

Before I can move, the hammer swings.

It crashes into my calf.

I hear the crunch before feeling it. A scream tears from my lungs as pain explodes

through me.

My leg is bleeding, a bone sticking out of it. My mum steps over me, dropping the

hammer near my head as she leaves through the door.

“I’ll be back for you.”

Her smile never reaches her eyes.

They don’t look human anymore.

The door slams shut.

The thud echoes through the basement.

Past bodies that have been rotting for years.

Except the young ones.

I throw myself at the door, pounding on it with both fists.

“MUM, let me out, please mum,” I yell, feeling my lungs shake as each breath felt like

knives, “mum…please.”

“Don’t leave me.”

——————————————

Pam?

I hear her screams, but there is nothing I can do. You did this. It was you

The voice rings true. I am a murderer. I killed my husband.

I kill people.

I kill families.

He is now apart of me.

No longer one hours before midnight.