Don’t ask me what happened last night, I can’t tell you. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s because I don’t remember.
I went to the house sometime after eleven last night, it was quiet, nothing seemed out of place, basically, the way we had left it when we took off earlier. I turned on all the lights as I walked from room to room, I did this more so because I wasn’t intending to sit in the fucking dark with who knows what in the house, and then I waited.
Well, that’s not entirely true, I called out, abused, threatened, spat, burst a blood vessel in my left eye, and stubbed my right foot’s big toe on the door frame that leads to my bedroom. But besides all that, I waiting for whatever it was to come back, to pick on someone who could fight back instead of a four year old girl.
I remember a flash, a noise behind me, and then, I woke in my car, it was still running, I was outside the hotel, the drive side door was hanging open, instinctively I looked up terrified, towards the door to the room I had left my wife and daughter in, it was wide open, I heard my wife scream and tried to leap from the car, only to find my seat belt was still lock in place around me, I felt like a right fucking idiot. Once I released it I ran up the stair and into the hotel room, my wife looked at me, her face pale, frighted, she yelled at me to stay away. I put my hands up in defense, I tried to reason with her, demanding to know what was wrong, but she started screaming louder, I didn’t know what else to do so I left, I ran outside, whatever brought me here, it’d done something to her, turned her against me, I had to find a way to stop whatever was happening. I had to find out what it wanted.
When I got back in my car, I noticed a folder on the passenger side seat, it was folder the odd man from the white room, then one from my dreams had given me a few days ago, I still hadn’t opened it, maybe that’s what it wanted, maybe it me to open the folder, read the story, whatever it was about.
I started up the car, and headed towards anywhere but home, I need some air, to somewhere safe, away from all those I love, and somewhere I could read this story.
That was a few hours ago, I’ve had six miss calls from my wife, four from work and seventeen from unlisted numbers, whatever’s going on, this folder, this story has something to do with it, and it’s about time I found out.