Blackout
The house was dark when Elle dropped me off five minutes before curfew, which was strange because Mom always waited up. She liked to hang out in the kitchen while I raided the fridge and gave her a slightly edited play-by-play of the night. After my self-imposed exile, she’d be amused when I reported that nothing had changed.
Elle had dragged me around the lobby with her while she flirted with guys she would never go out with, and I got stuck making awkward small talk with their friends. At least it was over and no one had asked about Chris.
I unlocked the door.
She hadn’t even left a light on for me.
“Mom?”
Maybe she fell asleep.
I flipped the switch at the base of the stairs. Nothing. The power was probably out.
Great.
The house was pitch-black. A rush of dizziness swept over me as the fear started to build.
My hand curled around the banister, and I focused on the top of the stairs, trying to convince myself it wasn’t that dark.
I crept up the steps. “Mom?”
When I reached the second-floor landing, a rush of cold air knocked the breath out of my lungs. The temperature inside must have dropped at least twenty degrees since I left for the movies. Did we leave a window open?
“Mom!”
The lights flickered, casting long shadows down the narrow hallway. I stumbled toward her room, my panic increasing with every step. The memory of the tiny crawl space in the back of her closet fought to break free.
Don’t think about it.
I edged closer.
This end of the hall was even colder, and my breath came out in white puffs. Her door was open, a pale yellow light blinking inside.
The stench of stale cigarette smoke hit me, and a rising sense of dread clawed at my insides.
Someone’s in the house.
I stepped through the doorway, and the wrongness of the scene closed in on me.
My mom lay on the bed, motionless.
Elvis crouched on her chest.
The lamp in the corner flashed on and off like a child was toying with the switch.
The cat made a low guttural sound that cut through the silence, and I shuddered. If an animal could scream, that was what it would sound like.
“Mom?”
Elvis’ head whipped around in my direction.
I ran to the bed and he leapt to the floor.
My mother’s head was tilted to the side, dark hair spilling across her face, as the room pitched in and out of darkness. I realized how still she was—the fact that her chest wasn’t rising and falling. I pressed my fingers against her throat.
Nothing.
I shook her roughly. “Mom, wake up!”
Tears streamed down my face, and I slid my hand under her cheek. The light stopped flashing, bathing the room in a faint glow.
“Mom!” I grabbed her shoulders and yanked her upright. Her head swung forward and fell against her chest. I scrambled backward, and her body dropped down onto the mattress, bouncing against it unnaturally.
I slid to the floor, choking on my tears.
My mother’s head lay against the bed at an awkward angle, her face turned toward me.
Her eyes were as empty as a doll’s.