My heavy breathing is the only sound in the room until we hear someone speak, but the sound of the voice isn’t coming from me or my cousin, Aiden. The noise continues and we look at each other, his face is pale and it looks like he’s going to pass out.
You know how people say that when you experience something traumatic you either fight, flight, or freeze? Let me tell you that Aiden and I both react very poorly in tense situations. We’re two frozen, cold faced statues stuck in a house with a murderous ghost.
“We need to get out of here.” I whisper to Aiden, but despite this radical realization I still cease to move.
“Try the door again, slowly. Stay quiet.” I put my hand on the cold knob and I can hear the tedious rattle of my shaking hand. I turn my wrist slowly, hoping that maybe the slower I turn the knob, the higher our chance of escape is. Slowly, slowly-
The quiet creak of old wood floors whispers above us upstairs. We can hear the sound move from one side of the room to the other. Then, the sound moves towards the stairs. It sounds very gentle, almost like a child.
I hear a loud bang from behind me and I jump. I look over and see that it’s Aiden trying to open the door. He’s turning the knob as far as possible and pounding on the old wood. It still doesn’t budge, so he moves onto the window. The sound of glass breaking replaces the ominous wood creaks. We jump out the window to our freedom and we welcome the chilly twilight air. I know that we’re bloody and bruised but that doesn’t matter. After all, I’d take a few scars over being stuck in that house any day.