The Chain Letter

It was weird. I felt like there were cold slimy bugs creeping and crawling all over my body. I couldn't think anything else. My body reacted and I ran to the door, pushing it closed. Quick to lock the deadbolt, handle and, fasten the security chain. Trembling, the door felt cool on my skin and I relaxed a little. Finally, my head began to start thinking.

‘CRASH! Oh my god! I AM shaking SO hard, I’m gonna pass out. Ohhh my… Was someone in my house? Wait! Oh god, someone was in here already! I’m going to throw up.’

Thoughts began unraveling in my head and, then they stopped. I heard my two BFF's fighting. It was usual, paws scurrying and digging into the hardwood to stop themselves from sliding. Ending in traditional hissing. I was weirdly grateful to hear them. The older one is Bagheera, wise, no nonsense, a fearless protector. Garfield is too as his namesake. He's orange, clumsy, and the asshat would sell you for a cardboard box. But they both still know, stranger danger.

I waited till it was quiet again, I held tightly to the picture. Lifting it to my face to get a good quick look. It was taken from the end of my bed where my closet is. I decided to check my bedroom just to prove I was alone. My hand reached over to the umbrella stand beside the door and I grabbed my softball bat. My brain was having a difficult time processing how I should be feeling. Fear is still feeling real. My heart was thudding so hard you could see it. My lungs could only afford shallow breaths of air. I shoved the polaroid into my pants pocket, my clothes felt sweaty. I held the bat firmly, the tape is lifting up and it feels sticky. I played part of last season then I injured my leg in a car accident. Still out for this season. I hate thinking about it, but it’s also kind of fueling me. That and thinking someone was and could be in my house. Maybe in my bedroom again.

The house is one story, sprawled out. Furnished from a 60's sitcom starring a gorgeous housewife. My grandparents furniture still filled a few rooms, my mom had taken off the plastic recently. Both of my maternal grandparents had past away about 10 years ago. Less a year of each other too. Grandma was sick with cancer, that's all of the memories I have of her. My grandpa I only ever remember him being sad. I have no memories of ever feeling happy with them. Now, I live in that same house that I always felt sadness and resentment. I wish it ended differently.

My bedroom is down the first hallway, and then first on the left. I remember my feet clenching the carpet as I walked. The door to my bedroom was open but I pushed it flush against the wall with my bat. Looking towards the end of the bed where my closet is and it’s wide open. Nothing. Using the bat I lifted up the side of my blanket. Nothing. ‘Someone is willing to hide in my closet and send something perverted like this but not bother going under my bed?’ I have a habit of stocking shoeboxes like Jenga under there and nothing was moved.

I pulled the polaroid back out of my pocket, I had stopped shaking then and put the bat down as I sat on my bed. I studied the photo and noticed my sheets were different, and the posters too. My new Britney poster was not in the picture. Eminem was in its place. This picture is old, from months ago.

CLICK. CLICK. SNATCH! I got up fast and reached for my bat. I heard as the door forcefully opened and halted on the chain.