Φόβος

6 Hours: The First Hour

        Glass shatters against the wall, falling like rain, it tinkles on the hard wood floors.  Jake slowly pulls himself out from under his comforter and sits up in bed.  Sitting motionless in the sun filtered through half drawn blinds, Jake looks around the room.  Reaching to the bedside table he picks up a pack of Kools, draws one out, and places it behind his ear.  Standing slowly he shuffles his way to the securely locked bedroom door. 
         Clicking, sliding, latching, jiggling, and twisting the locks they are released from their nightly duty and laid to rest.  Jake looks through and peephole with his hand on the final lock.  Inspecting every inch, he slowly rotates the doorknob allowing the door to slide effortlessly across finely oiled hinges. 
         The narrow hallway walls tick in unison from the clocks that cover them.  Jake walks to the end of the hall.  Lighting his cigarette he looks up a large clock ticking off the seconds in military time.  A six hour section was blacked out from 2146 to 0346. 
         “25 minutes Siege, I still have 25 minutes of freedom before blackout.  Whatcha got for me tonight you sick twisted fuck?”  Jake asks into the silent hallway.  Slamming his cigarette in the blacked out area he hustles off into the kitchen.
         Coffee brews while Jake slaps thinly sliced meat onto bread and shoves it into his mouth.  Chewing quickly he pours himself a cup of coffee.  Never taking his eyes off the clocks he swallows huge bites of meat and bread.  Washing down every bite with mouthfuls of hot coffee. 
         “14 minutes, 14 minutes” Jake keeps repeating to himself out loud as he walks into the front room and sits down on a ripped up couch.  The big screen television screen was knocked out and replaced with a large face digital clock.  Tall numbers proudly proclaim it to be 9:32pm.  Jake sits there and watches the seconds tick by.  The LCD screen clicks over to 9:33pm and Jake stands up and walks over to a dresser.  Opening the bottom drawer he pulls out a large wooden cigar box.  Sitting in a recliner next to the dresser he places the box gently on his lap and opens it.  Quickly he begins to sort out the contents on to a table on his left.  Spoon, lighter, razor, cotton, needle, rubber tie off, and a bag of heroin soon sit neatly in order.  The clock flips over to 9:34pm.  Pulling out a small chuck of heroin Jake begins his nightly ritual.  With the speed and agility that only could be attributed to a pro Jake soon has a needle full of hot heroin ready. 
         “Here comes the snake bite.” Jake murmurs softly sliding the needle under his toenail.
         The pounding euphoria attacks his veins and his eyes roll back with a loud sigh.  The darkness engulfs Jake and he is lost. 
         In the silence of his house water drips onto dirty dishes splashing mold and sour milk.  Light bulbs hang bare over filthy floors. Spiders crawl in and out of their webs tucked into holes in the plaster walls.  Dead plants hang about the house in various states of decay. 
         A creaking began along the kitchen floor and quickly rushed across all the floors and walls.  Air began to move quickly through Jake's hair.  The sound that Jake snaps upright to is the yawning sound that fills the house from foundation to roof.  Jake snaps his head to the television. 9:44pm.
         “FUCK!” he screams and begins to neatly pack his kit back into the box.  The ticking of the clock pounds at his ears as he slams the box shut and throws it into the dresser.  Running full force toward his bedroom door, metal shutters begin to slam shut blocking out the light from the street lights.  He runs into his room, slams the door and begins locking the door.  Lock over lock over lock strike their plates and secure the door.  The clocks ticking assaults Jake's ears and then an alarm starts.  Bleating against the darkness of the room a small digital alarm clock states that it is now 9:46pm. 

                                                The First Hour

         There is a small knock on Jake's bedroom door.  Startled, Jake falls over and begins to crawl toward his bed.  The knocking becomes more persistent.  He grabs the foot board and swings the bed up against the door reviling a large intricate circle drawn in chalk on the hardwood floor.  In the center sits a small brown back.  Jake dives into the circle and grabs the bag.  The knocking grows louder.  Unwrapping the string around the neck he plunges a hand into it and pulls out a hand full of salt.  Tracing the outside lines of the circle Jake begins chanting under his breath.  The pounding continues.  Jake finishes the salt circle and the knocking stops. 
         An uncomfortable quite settles in.  Jake's ears begin to ring with the overwhelming quite.  Even his breathing was silent.           
         Something slams against the door so hard it knocks dust off the walls and Jake screams into night.  Striking the door again Jake pulls a cigarette out and lights it.  Sitting inside the chalk and salt circle Jake breaths rapidly as the pounding on the bedroom door shakes the door at the hinges.  He begins to rock back and forth slightly pulling hard on a section of hair and taking long drags of his unashed cigarette.  Silence falls into the house like the blanket of night.  His eyes dart around the room looking at all of the symbols drawn on the wall.  Noticing a fog out of the corner of his eyes, Jake slows his breathing and looks down.  Small puffs of breath burst past his lips while ice creeps its way across the windows.  Jake begins to sob softly.
         Something hard and round begins to roll across the uneven floors outside of his room.  The sound slowly creeps along the cracks, jumping up into Jake's ears.  The rolling intensifies and becomes like thunder, shaking the windows and vibrating the baseboards. 
         Jake continues to sob and murmur.  “No, no, no, I don't want to see Alice tonight.  Not again, no, no, no.”
         A small clack against the barred bedroom door makes Jake jump.  Clamping a hand over his mouth, a small marble rolls under the door toward Jake.  Tears begin to well up and flood his face while muffled whimpering fights to stay behind his hand.  The marble rolls smooth and straight over the uneven floors directly at him.
         Jake's hands begin to shake.  Crying harder, his teeth begin to chatter as ice crystals form on his cheeks and under his nose. 
         The marble slows to a snail's pace and creeps toward Jake, over dirty laundry and trash the marble travels directly at him.  Then it stops at the chalk line.  Jake breaks down and begins sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.  The marble begins spinning in place. 
         “No more! No more! No more!” Jake screams into the frozen air, spittle flying everywhere.  Whipping the snot from under his nose with the back of his hand. He begins to plead.  “Please, leave me be.  I never wanted to be here.  I had to though, where was I spose to go?  I'll leave if you let me, just let me go and I will leave you alone. Please?”
         A voice seeps its way under the door.  “Alex, why don't you come out and play Alex?”
         “I'm not Alex!  Go away Alice, I don't want your marbles!”
         “Come now Alex.” the voice forces.  It echoes through the room in a thousand different voices that taunt Jake's mind. 
         “No, please don't make me Alice.  I'm not feeling well tonight.  I'll play with you tomorrow.” Jake pleads.  The battery powered lamp Jake kept near him begin to fade and flicker.  Footsteps began to echo under the door into Jake's room. 
         “Lire, Lire, pants on fire.” the voice chirps back as another marble rolls under the door toward Jake.  It too stops on the chalk line right next to the first and begins to spin in place also.  Another marble rolls into the room, and another, and another until Jake's circle is encircled by spinning marbles.  A clawing sound draws Jake's eyes up to the wall next to the door.  An invisible hand was writing on the wall with ash and soot.  “I can see you.” the message relays and the marbles stop spinning.  They roll around the salt circle landing against the wall with the message. 
         A still settles onto the house while Jake sobs.
         A click stands Jake up forcing his gaze upon his bedroom door locks.  A chain slides out of its cradle and falls onto the door.  “No, you can't do that.” he whispers.  A padlock clicks open and falls onto the floor. “No!” A bolt turns over and clicks into the open position.  “NO!” Jake screams at the door and begins the walk out of the circle.  The floor stretches and his door races away from him.  Running toward his door he tries to catch it before the final lock is removed.  Catching up with the door he reaches for a bolt to have it slide out from his fingers.  Grabbing at a chain the door slide away from him pulling the chain from his hands.  Jakes eyes grow large, his pupils chasing the color from his eyes.  Turning quickly Jake looks for the circle.  Seeing his mistake Jake chokes on his own tears.  The circle was outlined with marbles that spun in place and around the circle.  “You fell for it you stupid mother fucker. Why did I fall for this?” he questioned the insanity around him. 
         A soft knocking echoed throughout the room and the door slid open. 
         Jake turned, wide eyed toward the door and watched it open to the icy blackness that sat ready to pounce at the door frame.  His head twitches when the sound of small footsteps begin to fall out of the darkness.  Reaching for the door slowly the steps quicken.  Jake begins the push the door shut only to have it stick in his hands.  The steps quicken.  Pulling with both hands Jake looks down.  The floor was bulged up and blocking the door from shutting.  The steps begin to run and so does Jake.  Sprinting toward the circle, floorboards snake up and slap him across the ankles and shins.  Grabbing his toes and tripping him he slams his face into floor.  With blinding pain Jake howls as blood pours out of his lips and nose onto the floor.  The steps stop outside of his door.  Turning over and looking past the tears and blood Jake sees the outline of a small girl in a dress.  Her straight, auburn hair falls perfectly to her neck line. 
         “Alice, listen.” Jake began.
         The young girl began to urinate down her legs and onto the floor.  Pulling her head up slowly the hollows where her eyes were meant to be are filled with blood soaked cotton.  Marbles began to roll out of the darkness from behind Alice and toward Jake. 
         Flipping over onto his belly Jake struggles to get a footing.  Tripping and falling, slipping and screaming, he makes his way ever closer to the salt and chalk sanctuary.  Giggles run around the room and play with their own echoes.  Jake catches a foothold and leaps for the circle.  Marbles pile on top of each other forming a wall in front of the circle.  He drops his head and bursts through the marble wall.  With blurry eyes Jake watches the circle under him skitter away across the stretching floorboards.  Looking over his shoulder and toward Alice he loses his breath to terror.  Alice stands above him mouth agape.  Her fractured jaw slacks open while she mimics the sound of a child's laughter.  A surprised look jolts across her face. 
         Without a movement of her lips “Daddy's home!”.  All the marbles in the room race out of the door followed closely by Alice skipping backwards out the door.  The door slams shut behind her leaving Jake balled up, bloody and sobbing uncontrollably.