Covered Edges

Chapter 21

If there's one thing I secretly cannot stand, it's horror movies. I have tried relentlessly to like them, but every time I just am wishing that the end will come soon, or some electrical shock will take out the TV. Rachel finally learned how much I loathe them a few years ago after she wanted to have a scary movie marathon and I almost passed out. No one else really knows though since I don't want to come off as a wimp. As long as it's not a paranormal related movie I'll be able to survive it; they are my number one most hated films.

"Okay," I respond dryly, playing it cool, "What did you have in mind?"

"How about The Conjuring?"

Fuck me.

We walk back downstairs into the living room. I sit stiffly on the couch as he pops in the DVD and, once again, closes the blinds, making the room pitch black. He casually walks back over and presses play on the remote before sinking into the leather.

"Ever seen this before?" he asks me.

"No," I reply curtly.

"Well, you're in for a show."

Fuck me twice.

We are about thirty minutes into the movie, and I've slowly formed into a protective ball on the couch, curling my legs near my chest and placing both hands over my face, squinting at the movie through my fingers. I've always done that; I guess I feel that if there's less to see on the screen, it's not as scary. I feel Damon's warm hands rest on top of mine and I jump. He drags my palms away from my face and pulls me into him.

"Relax, it's not that bad," he whispers.

Unlike the last time we watched a movie and he told me to relax, I didn't obey. I try to seem as if I do though, because I need to get through this. But I feel like a little piece of me is dying within each minute of this movie.

Another thirty minutes later, I'm on the verge of just turning around to face the wall and plugging my ears until it's over; however, Damon is the first to move. I feel the couch shift as he lifts himself off of it, saying something about going to the bathroom, before leaving me to watch the movie alone. I resume my previous fetal-like position, and trudge through.

Abruptly, the screen thins out and goes blank. With the TV light gone, the room is filled with hollow darkness. The air around me feels heavy, and I feel like I'm choking on it.

"Damon?" I call out.

No response returns. I sit for another couple minutes before I finally get one.

"I think the power went out, I'm going to go check it out."

Wow, I guess I really did get that electrical shock.

I listen as his footsteps move down the hallway. I notice a dim glow of light enter the room—he must've found a flashlight—but it's gone as his footsteps become quieter. I hear him enter what I believe to be the kitchen. Suddenly, I hear a few loud cracks and a groan before a deadly silence engulfs the house. Adrenaline spikes through me, what the hell just happened? Is someone in the house? Is Damon hurt? A million questions are flying around my mind, but they're stilled in an instant as I hear unrecognizable footsteps slowly begin to make their way out of the kitchen. Instinctively, I crawl under the coffee-table in front of me. Fear has completely taken over my body, fear unlike from the movie, and I feel as if my racing heart can be heard a mile away. I still can't see anything, but the heavy steps are getting closer. I can't tell which direction they're coming from, so I'm just praying that they'll pass me by.

The pacing ceases just as they enter the room, and I'm holding my breath, trying to make as least noise as possible. Looking in front of me, where I thought I heard the footsteps, I desperately search for any sign of presence. I see a small shadow about four feet away, and I squint, trying to make it out.