Prologue
They say that darkness more often attracts darkness, and even as a young girl, I think I understood that to be true.
It was never that I asked to be born around the dark aura that saturated my life. I like to think that it was more circumstance than anything else. But after twelve years of living in fear of something awful lurking just under the surface, I’d hoped that my mother and I could carve out a better life. Even if it was hard, even if we had to make sacrifices, anything would be better than living with him and what he’d possibly conjured up.
Yet I couldn’t deny that our little apartment felt somewhat ominous even now. It was a hard thing for me to shake, so I often sought refuge in my room after school while I awaited my mother’s return from her shift at a nearby convenience store. While I should’ve been used to spending these hours alone here by now, I simply couldn’t muster it. Being able to stay in this small room felt so much safer to me than the open if small expanse of the rest of this place.
With this in mind, I sat on my bed with my radio on beside me on the dresser and an open book in my hands that I needed to read for school. I’d always enjoyed reading anyway, so this helped me to relax. Besides, any distraction from my thoughts when I was alone seemed well worth it.
It was hard to believe it had been nearly a year since we’d escaped him. I didn’t think I could ever look at that man as my father. We shared nothing as far as I was concerned, not to mention I felt like he was nothing but evil at heart. His actions and beliefs belied that much. I understood all too well why Mom took so long to leave him too. He was a man to be feared, and not just for physical abuse or mental manipulation.
“Alyssa!”
I sat up straighter, the sudden sound of my mother’s voice jolting me back to reality. It was a bit muffled through the closed door of my bedroom, yet distinctly hers. I slowly set my book on my lap and glanced at my dresser beside my bed. The small clock held in the arms of the black and white cartoon cat read that it was five-thirty.
That’s strange. I thought she always got off at six.
An unsettled feeling washed over me as I turned down my radio and listened intently. The idea that Mom would suddenly be calling my name at a time when she shouldn’t have been there was unnerving. It brought back all of the terror that she and I had suffered before at his hands, not to mention the memories I tried so hard to bury.
“Alyssa!” her voice rang out again. She sounded angrier this time.
I jumped slightly at the sudden sound before gathering my courage to put my book aside and slide off my twin bed. My bare feet touched the soft deep blue carpet and my eyes remained locked on the door as I approached it, my ears straining as I listened for any unusual sounds around me.
I grasped the knob and held it for a moment, drawing in a calming breath before pushing open the door as quietly as I could. The darkness of the hallway greeted me along with deep silence that made my ears ring.
I stepped out and looked around, but nothing looked amiss. I couldn’t hear anything either, which made me nervous. If Mom had come home early, then shouldn’t I hear her moving around? Our apartment was pretty small, with only the living and dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms.
My mother also tended to have a routine when she got home from work. She’d come in, take off her shoes in this living room, then say hi to me before heading to the kitchen to start dinner.
Yet there was no sign of her doing any of that. There was only silence.
I had to work up the courage to move forward, and even then, I was doing it slowly and cautiously looking around me. No lights had been turned on, leaving most of the apartment in darkness, save for the dim glow that came through the curtains covering the front windows. That wasn’t like Mom at all when she came home. Like me, she always turned on a light as soon as she came through the door, even on the brightest, sunniest days.
As my hand reached for the light switch at the end of the hallway, my fingers hesitated over it when I heard a strange sound. I stopped and listened closely, confusion and fear filling me. The sound was rhythmic, as if someone were in the kitchen slowly chopping something on a wooden cutting board.
“Mom?” I quietly called, unable to stop the quiver from marking my voice.
There was no response, even though I was close enough to be heard. My heart started pounding as I moved closer, peeking around the doorway into the kitchen. My eyes widened as I thought I saw the shadowy figure of a woman standing at the table, head down and arm moving as they used a large knife to chop something.
The sudden sound of the lock clicking snapped me out of my trance, and I turned around as the front door opened. My mother walked in, wearing her deep blue work shirt and tan pants. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her brown eyes looked tired.
“Oh, there you are, Alyssa,” she said as she saw me. Her head tilted in confusion. “What are you doing? Why are you standing there with all of the lights off?”
I turned back towards the kitchen and saw that the figure had vanished. Fear instantly filled me, and I rushed over to her, grabbing her arms.
“There’s something in there! Someone was calling me and they sounded just like you, and I saw this dark person in the kitchen!” I stammered.
Mom instantly tensed up, but only for a moment. She then rushed to the kitchen, turning on the lights as she stepped through the doorway. I quickly followed her to see if anything was still there.
Everything seemed normal. The white counters were spotless, and the stove and fridge gleamed under the fluorescent light. But then I noticed something odd. The cutting board was on the table with a large knife stuck into a dark stain, a stain that hadn’t been there before. It looked like dried blood, sending shivers down my spine.
Mom stared at it with me for a moment, her eyes wide with disbelief. But she quickly pulled herself together, grabbing the cutting board and knife and tossing them into the sink. She then turned to me, placing her hands on my shoulders with an intense look in her eyes, blocking the sight of the items behind her.
“Alyssa, did you really think you heard someone calling you that sounded like me?” she asked.
I managed to nod. “Yes.”
“And you thought you saw something in here?”
“Yes.”
Mom’s eyes darted around, a quiet fear filling them as her grip on my shoulders tightened. Her expression grew more determined.
“Listen to me, Alyssa. Never follow a voice like that when you know I shouldn’t be there. Ignore it and never acknowledge it. You hear me?” she commanded in a low voice.
“But I…” I started.
“Don’t follow it! Do you want him to get to us again?!” she interrupted, her voice quivering now.
“No!” I whimpered.
“Then do what I say!” Mom reaffirmed. “He’ll never give up on getting to us, so don’t ever, ever do it! Never acknowledge it and it will never be able to harm you. Do you understand?!”
“I understand,” I breathed.
Mom let out a long breath, finally releasing me and turning back to the sink. She leaned forward with her hands on the edge, her head down as she calmed herself.
“All right. That’s enough of this. Let me get cleaned up, then we’ll start on dinner. Why don’t you clean up too so that you can help me?” she suggested.
“Sure. I can do that,” I quietly agreed.
But as I turned to leave the room, I glanced back at her one more time. She was staring down at the knife and cutting board, whispering to herself.
“I won’t let you win. I beat you once and I’ll never let you have her, no matter what you do to us.”
