The Tombstone

Hovering

  The lock on her door jiggled and clinked as she was notified someone was coming in her room. But she no longer was scared when that noise was echoed. She knew it was only him, and he didn't frighten her most times anymore. That was all over, in the past maybe. But the only thing that frightened her was what he did that night. That night that seemed so long ago, even though it was only a couple of weeks ago, perhaps months. But it seemed that she was more aware of timing now, especially when it came to dates.

  The door swung open slowly as she could see his shadow beginning to form. As the squeaking and squeal came from the wooden door, he stepped aside to let her pass by.
  "Come on," he gestured with his hand as she began to get up and walk pass him through the door. This was the new normal suddenly. Ever since that night, ever since he made that promise, he stook with it and let her wonder around the cabin while he was around. Through morning to night. As long as he was there. She would help him tidy the shack, help prepare meals, and he let her watch the television set or listen to the radio. All these things he promised before, to get her to help cover his tracks. At first she didn't think he would go through with it; his promises that was. But she was surprised the next day when he opened her door and stepped aside, letting her walk right on by towards the living room. Of course the windows and doors were locked up tight, and he was always around, but she still received a sense of freedom with this new gesture. And she enjoyed it. More room to walk around, to look at, to explore. She enjoyed it. Looked forward to it. Who wouldn't after being locked up in a confined room.

  As she stepped out into the hallway, the new, fresh and loose air came swaying towards her, like a pet who was excited to see their owner return after a long time. Or perhaps a short time, depending on the type of animal. Steph felt the air in her room was tight and stuffy, wishing she could pry open the window, but failed after some attempts. Although sometimes, when she sat close to her window, she could feel the breeze and air of the outdoors radiate towards her, giving her a sense of freedom that wasn't really there. But those split seconds she enjoyed.

  As she walked down the wooden hallway, the rest of the cabin, she took four steps before she turned to her right and coming face to face with the living room, which was right beside the kitchen. A wall stood between the living room and the kitchen, but a section of wall had been cut out, looking like there was a bar in the kitchen. She stepped onto the rough rug that lied flat in the living room, making her way to the chair she usually sat in when he let her out. It was a rocking chair, that was made of complete velvet. A deep blue velvet. She approached it slowly, and sat even slower, for the chair could be a bit wobbly. As she sat it scooped her up and then fell back gently, like it always did. A television set sat diagonally from her. The tv only received a few channels, but they were something. Steph usually watch tv when she sat out there, but today the tv was on at a quieter tone, and stayed only on one channel. The tv was rather old, with a box style and antennas sticking out from the top, like a large bug. And rather far away from the furniture, laid a narrow, burning fireplace. It seemed to be bigger the first time she saw it, but by now she saw it everyday, and it seemed to shrink in size each time. Steph enjoyed lighting the fireplace, feeling the warmth spread onto her as it lit up her face in orange streaks. Lastly, the wooden door was held close by the fireplace, the door she saw the first time she was let out. The first time he wanted her to help cover a body. The wooden door that led to the basement. The basement where he keeps all the other girls.
Or so she suspected. She had tried a few times to make her way down there, but it seemed when she was in the living room by herself, he tried to keep a close eye on her. He had caught her once, trying to open the door, to go down there, but a lock was concealed above the dusty door handle, not letting anyone in without that key. She sat in her rocking chair as she glanced over at that door, wondering how many girls had been locked down there. Although as she continued to stare, she could feel her eyes burning, not wanting to look away but doing so anyways. That thought freaked her out sometimes. And other times she didn't want to think about it. About how many he killed.