“The Babysitter”
by
Scott C.
Forrest-Allen & Paul McCarthy
I had always thought I knew what the meaning
of “pitch-black” darkness was,
Amy thought to herself. That
was until tonight. That was until just now. My digital watch
tells
me it’s just after midnight.
I can’t see a damn thing.
A
moment ago, I tripped over something that felt like. . . if I had to describe
what that “something” felt like, I’d probably have to compare it to what it is
like to stumble over a small rock wrapped in a sponge. It is a more bothersome
pain than an agonizing pain. If it weren’t for the annoying sensation currently
in my ankle, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I were asleep or not.
It is too dark.
I’m not afraid of the dark, but I’m the type
of clumsy girl that if there is something in my way, I will find a way to trip
over it. If something is NOT in my way, I will find a way to trip over it.
As Amy began to massage her ankle, she tried to take
in her surroundings, but she couldn’t because all she could see was black.
Black.
It was as if she were in a large container of black
dust, and she was becoming a part of it. She tried her best to remain calm so
that her eyes could adjust, but this was taking longer than usual. She felt as
if she were inhaling black dust and that the dust was inhaling her.
Of all the rotten luck, she continued to
herself, a simple babysitting job. Mum
said “Don’t worry: I started babysitting when I was your age.” Then the ageless
mother line: “You’ll do fine!” She grimaced to herself. Of course, things were a lot different when
Mum was my age, when dinosaurs roamed.
Leave it to me to pick the one night this
week when the power goes out. It was so beautiful all this week, and today we
get a heat wave. Everyone was using their air conditioners and their fans, so
the power went out.
When are my eyes going to adjust?
Well, I’m in the cellar now, and there is no
light, and the wind blew the door shut, and I can’t see a thing.
Still no flashlight. Not that I would know
where it is. The brats’ parents told me to look in the basement for the
flashlight if there was a problem…who keeps a flashlight in their basement?
On all fours Amy began to make her way across the
cold, damp basement floor. She realized the next best thing to do was to try to
find her way back to the stairs and finish putting Bobby and Baby Carl to bed.
“They’re nice people,” Mum told me. “How do you
know?” I asked her. “We just moved here two weeks ago!” Why did I have to take
this babysitting job? Why did the lights go out? Why do I have to be clumsy?
Why can’t my eyes adjust?
THUD.
Amy felt around and
figured that she must have found the first step.
Joy! Finally! I can get out of here, put the brats
to bed, and watch my movie!
Amy began her climb
up the basement stairs. At one point, she tried to stand, felt for a banister
to her right, but her arm felt nothing. No banister on these steps. Is
that even legal? She felt around to her right
and felt cold, hard stone mixed with something that must have been cement. She
concluded this must be the wall and stayed close to it.
She quickly
recalled that there must have been around eight – ten steps to the basement.
This shouldn’t take too long. She felt around for the next step and with both
hands and knees pressed herself up and continued in this fashion until she
counted the ninth step. She breathed a sigh of relief.
I’d better stay on all fours to keep my balance.
Here. This must be the tenth step. Oh, boy! The door must be…wait, another
step, ok, I must’ve counted wrong; I’ll just keep climbing these stairs until I
get to the door. 11. 12. How many steps are there? I could’ve have…13, 14…sworn
there were only about 10.
15. 16.
Amy tried to feel
around for the bottom of a door, but each time she did, she came upon another
step.
17. 18. 19. 20.
Oh, this is crazy! How many…
STEP.
What was that? Amy
thought to herself. Unless her mind was playing tricks on her, which was likely
as she over-analyzed everything, it sounded like a foot on the bottom step.
My mind. My mind…21, 22…playing tricks on
me…23…there’s nothing…
STEP.
There it was again.
By Amy’s guess they were on the second step.
“Bobby?” She
quivered out loud. “Is that you?”
Silence.
A long period of
silence.
“Bobby, if that’s
you, say something.”
Silence.
Another long period
of silence.
“Bobby, if this is
your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing! This isn’t—“
STEP-STEP-STEP.
She now heard the
footsteps in rapid succession.
These did not sound
like the footsteps of a small child, even one playing a practical joke. A sick
and cruel practical joke.
STEP.
Amy’s insides
turned cold. She heard and felt herself breathing more heavily than before. The
harder she tried to calm down, the more rapid her breathing became.
She needed to get
out of that basement and upstairs RIGHT NOW!
STEP.
Oh, no! Where…24, 25.. where is that damn door?
STEP-STEP-STEP.
On all fours Amy
continued her climb…
STEP.
…until finally…she
felt the bottom of the door. Amy quickly released a sigh of relief.
STEP.
With trembling
hands, she felt her way…
STEP-STEP-STEP.
…up the door until
she found the knob.
Locked.
As Amy’s breath
quickened…
STEP.
…she began to hear…
STEP.
…something else.
STEP-STEP-STEP.
The footsteps were
getting closer. She could feel them getting closer. She could feel each step
echo in the pit of her stomach.
That was when she
heard the scratching coming from the other side of the door.
STEP.
It’s the kids.
“Don’t worry, Bobby
and Carl! I’m coming”
STEP.
Oh, my God, please! Why won’t this door open??
STEP-STEP-STEP.
Amy could feel
someone breathing behind her, and made the entire of her back shrivel and
cringe. She heard the Snickering behind her. Her skin shriveled and cringed.
That was when she
heard banging – loud, repetitive banging – from the other side of the door. Amy
shot back in response. She heard the Snickering again. She tried again to get
the door open, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Don’t worry, Amy,”
the Voice whispered slowly behind her, “the boys are alright.”
At the sound of the
Voice, Amy lost her balance, let go of the door know and fell off the stairs to
her right.
Screaming as she
fell, she thought this would be the last thing she’d ever be doing.
That was when she
landed on a hard, metallic surface. She felt as if all of her tensed muscles
would break. Her momentum allowed her fall hard – back down on the cold, damp
basement floor.
Trembling and quivering, Amy tried to assess her
damages. She must have broken something, but she had no time or means to tend
to her wounds. She felt dizzy and disoriented from her fall. As she tried to
collect herself, her mind began again.
Where am I now? I need to get back to the
stairs. Who was that behind me? How did he know my name? How am I sure it is a
“he?”
Some part of Amy realized that the Voice sounded
either like a man sounding like a woman, or a woman sounding like a man. Either
way, she hated it. She hated it so much. If this were a practical joke, she’d
never forgive those brats.
I’ll never forgive those bastards. I wish I were
back in Algebra right now. I wish I were
at the movies seeing something funny. Something to make me laugh. Don’t cry,
Amy. You’re being childish. You’re being a silly, little girl. But I want to
cry. I want to cry so badly. So damn badly. I want out of the basement. I want
out NOW! I want to be upstairs with the boys asleep, and I want to be watching
my movie. I want to call my friends. I want to be with them right now. I want
to call my Mum and tell her how much I hate her for forcing me to do this. It’s
all her fault. It’s all her fault that I’m here. I want out. I want out RIGHT …
Through her tears, Amy could make out the Figure of
a large person appear in the darkness. Amy inhaled a quick gasp.
I can’t speak. I can’t ask this…thing who they are
and what they want? And what did I fall on? I hurt. I’m in pain. I think I cut
myself.
The Figure just
stood there, motionless, appearing to be staring in Amy’s direction. Amy
realized that she probably would have been less scared had the Figure ran into
the basement. Instead, it just moved into the space in front of her. And stared.
It stared long and hard at Amy.
It was at this
point when some light began to make its presence in the basement, largely due
to the two small windows straight ahead near the ceiling. It was so dark
outside. Had the windows been open, Amy might have heard the night sounds. Can
she climb to the windows to escape? Can she get there with this Figure in the
way?
With the small
amount of light entering the basement, Amy could make out The Face. Sneering
and snarling at her. Eyes piercing into her very soul. Amy released another
gasp.
“Why are you so
afraid, Amy?” the Figure demanded slowly and with a hushed sound. “You’ve hurt
my feelings!” The Figure spoke in a slow, sinister, singsong manner. Amy hated
it. She hated it so much. She tried to scream, but couldn’t.
Silence.
Another long period
of silence.
As Amy was
mustering up enough courage to ask the Figure something, it asked her, “Are you
ready?”
The Figure then
walked quickly past Amy, and Amy felt a small gust of wind as it did. If it
weren’t for that, she probably would not have felt any air at all in that
basement.
Amy heard a door
open behind her.
Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Someone else is coming in!
“Just remember,
Amy,” the Figure whispered in her direction, “this is OUR sport!”
SLAM!
She felt the door
behind her slam shut.
She was left in
empty darkness again.
Who else is here? Where did It go? Ready for what?
What sport are you talking about?
As Amy began her
crawl along the floor, she found it more and more difficult to remain calm. She
began to have images in head about the boys.
She saw Bobby and
Carl sleeping soundly in their room. Bobby in his bed, and Carl right next to
him in his cradle.
Yes, yes, peaceful thoughts. Think happy thoughts.
The boys are alright, and I am on my way back up there, and this whole thing
will be over.
Amy’s vision added
the Figure entering the room.
No! No, Amy! Stop! It is not in the room! The boys
are safe!
Amy “saw” the
Figure produce a chainsaw.
Amy, stop! Stop it RIGHT NOW!
She heard the
chainsaw rip into action. She felt the rumbling of the chainsaw in the very pit
of her stomach.
AMY, FOR GOD’S SAKE STOP!!
Amy saw the Figure
raise the chainsaw and descend it upon the boys.
“STOOOOOP!” Amy
screamed out loud.
Someone must have heard me. Someone has to be on their
way. Bobby! Carl! Can you hear me?
“BOBBY! CARL!”
Nothing. Silence.
She waited and hoped that one of the neighbors had heard her scream. They are
on their way right now.
Amy “saw” the boys
again.
Amy, please stop it! Please, oh, please don’t do
this to yourself! The boys are alright! The boys are…
In her mind she “saw”
the boys sleeping soundly.
She “saw” the Figure
produce an axe.
Amy! There’s no
one up there! No one is harming the boys.
A large axe.
AMY, STOP IT!
She “saw” the Figure
raise the axe above its head. It swiftly lowered the axe toward the boys.
“AMY! STOP! THE BOYS
ARE ALRIGHT! THE BOYS ARE…”
She “saw” the boys yet
again.
Oh, no!
The worst thing, Amy
realized to herself, if it weren’t for these visions, I wouldn’t be able
to see anything at all!
This time she could not
see the Figure. All she could focus on were the boys’ faces looking at
something. Their happy, smiling faces turned quickly into something else. They
could see something that was frightening them. She saw it in their faces. She
saw it in their eyes. They were trembling. They were both beginning to cry.
They were both…
THUD.
Amy felt the bottom of
the steps again and tried to sigh in relief, but she felt no relief. She wanted
out. She needed to get out. She hadn’t even realized she was crawling along the
floor all this tiem. She wanted to get to the boys. She needed to get to the
boys.
She thought she heard
the sound of Bobby screeching from somewhere above her. Amy shuddered and tried
desperately to hold back her tears. This was no ordinary scream. This was long.
This was painful. This was the sound of something else. Something was happening
to the boys.
On all fours she began
her ascend of the stairs as quickly as she could. She still could not recall
that there were so many steps, but there was no time to count. There was no
time to worry about that. She just needed to try the door again.
To her shock, the door
was slightly ajar.
Now I think I
can breathe a sigh of relief.
Still battered and
bruised, she pushed the door open and began her quest to the boys’ room.
All of the lights in
the house were still out, and all of the lights in the neighborhood were still
out.
As she made her way
through the house, she caught a glimpse of the front door.
It was slightly ajar
as well.
Someone else
broke into the house. Someone else made it into this house.
Someone else is still in this house RIGHT NOW!
No time to think about that. I have to find the boys.
I hate my Mum. I can’t wait to see her again so I can
tell her how much I hate her for getting me into this.
Stop thinking about your mother right now. You will deal
with her later. I need to find the boys!!
Amy made it up the
stairs and to the boys’ room.
They were not there.
There’s no time
to search the house. They’re gone. I know it. It’s my fault. I’m a bad babysitter.
I’m a bad person.
Amy raced into the living
room and picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Answer! Please
answer! What is taking you so…
“Oh, help me! Please
help, me!” Amy panicked into the receiver. As she was trying to explain her
situation, she was interrupted.
“I know where you are,
you silly, little girl,” was the response on the other end of the phone.
She knew that voice.
It was the Voice.
Amy tried to breathe
but this time could not.
“You silly, little
girl. The boys are downstairs. They’ve been downstairs in the basement all
along!”
OH MY GOD!!
WHAT IS GOING ON??
Before she hung up the
phone, the Voice asked, “Are you ready?”
Amy slammed down the
phone and made it back to the basement stairs and back to the basement floor.
She started yelling out,”BOBBY! CARL! WHERE ARE YOU? IT’S AMY! I’LL SAVE YOU!
I’LL…”
She felt the Hands on
both of her shoulders. She had nothing left in her at this point. The Hands
were surprisingly gentle on her shoulders, which upset her even more than had
she been handled abruptly. The Hands were guiding her carefully backwards. Amy
stumbled along, feeling too weak to fight back, until she felt her back against
the wall.
The Hands released.
“Yes,” the Voice
whispered, “she’s ready.”
Ready?! Ready
for what?! Please, oh, please let the lights come on! This was all one big
practical joke. A sick and cruel practical joke.
She found it impossible
to breathe.
The next thing Amy
felt was a cold, sharp blade against her neck.
* * * * *
Amy awoke suddeenly
just as Bobby and Carl’s parents came home that hot summer night.
It
was a dream!! It was just some horrible nightmare!!
The lights in the
neighborhood were back on.
The boys were sleeping
soundly in their beds.
Copyright 2006 Paul McCarthy & Scott C. Forrest-Allen
