Behind Closed Doors
I was adopted. I have never seen my birth mother, more truly, I had been living with her, but I was so little to remember her. I loved my adoptive family. They were so kind to me, it was snug as a bug in a rug and I went to bed rather late.
Let me introduce you my family. Firstly, my mother, Janice. I had never called her “mom” or like that. But she had no objections at all. I think she didn’t even notice. She was very kind and careful woman. Sometimes I curdle my head in her laps when we were watching TV and she was stroking the back of my head. Secondly, my father. His true name was Richard. Frankly speaking, he didn't like me so I tried to call him “dad” in a desperate attempt to conquer his love. It made no good. I think it didn’t matter the way I had called him. He wouldn’t love me as he would love his own child. It was clear, so I didn’t insist on. Father was mostly known for his uncompromising severity. He felt free to pommel his daughter when she was naughty. And of course, he slapped me too. Okay, doesn’t matter, it’s just his methods, that’s all.
Finally, my little sister. Emily was literally very little when I was adopted. We were almost the same age, she was a little bit older than me. However, I liked to think of her as my kid sister. We got on with her even better than many siblings. We had always stayed up late and just talked. She liked chatting. For the most part I just listened to her, because I loved her. I was in tune with her. Really. We don’t have many rooms, and I didn’t want to sleep in a living room alone. She allowed me to sleep on the floor beside her bed. There I always fell asleep. I liked to sleep near her, I felt secure under my little sister's wing.
One hideous day things changed. I was home when little Emily opened the front door. The sound of opening door snatched me from the land of Nod and I ran down the stairs to living room. That moment I understood it was Wednesday. I had never cared about days of week. I simply lived making nothing of what was the day. Frankly speaking, I have terrible sense of time! Whatever the case, I understood that it was Wednesday, because Emily came from a church – she visited children’s meeting. She came in and gave me a hug, she was followed by dad and Janice.
”Did you have a good sleep?” Janice asked me, stroking my hair. I just shook my head and sniffed.
“Don't you dare sniffing like that!” dad said roughly. He closed the door and hung his coat. Emily went upstairs to her bedroom, and I followed her. She started to tell me about her day... common gurlie weekdays. However, I listened to her as if I was really interested in. She finished her story and offered to watch TV. I agreed and jumped up on the couch, when she made a reach for remote. TV was on and we had been watching it till the sun-down. Emily was one of girls who prefer such channels as Discovery, Animal Planet and National Geographic to cartoons and serials. I liked them too that’s why I didn’t raise objections. In sober fact they were the sole channels, which attracted my attention.
It was already late when Janice came. “Emily, it’s time to go to bed. Turn off the TV and go to your bedroom. And you too,” she pointed at me. Emily turned off the TV and stood up reluctantly. I followed her, but I couldn’t get rid of feeling that something was wrong.
We came to the Emily’s room and switched off the light. But the moment before the light was out I had gotten a sight of something out of the corner of my eye. Something was outside behind the window, but I had scarcely looked back when it disappeared. I cocked the ears and decided to be on my toes for my sister’s sake.
I was laying in the dark, only a thin ray of light from a street-lamp slightly lighted the room. I could swear I heard dull roar outside… palpitation of the leaves, rustling of broken branches, whishing of clothes… the whole time I felt whiff of sweat and blood. I decided not to sleep that night.
Then sounds faded away, that odour disappeared. I calmed down, my eyelids became heavy, I closed my eyes.
Not long after I heard a loud crash from the other side of the house. I sprang in a flash. “SOMEONE IS IN THE HOUSE!” I roared, all my body was shivering with anxiety. “WAKE UP!” I started to drag Emily off the bed. When she awoke, I rushed to parent’s bedroom…
Dad was dead. His neck was cut, blood was flowing from a gaping of a wound creating a puddle on the floor. I saw the bathroom door was closed, a strange man stood at the door. He was very big. He turned back and looked at me then I saw his face for the first time. I’ll never forget it. His eyes were small, as beads, cold and wicked. He has dirty beard and untidy clothes, all his face was smeared with blood. And then I felt that familiar whiff of sweat and blood, but that time it was entirely disgusting.
He saw me and gave a smile, baring a set of crooked yellow teeth. A shudder went through me. I thought I was about to die, but he turned to the bathroom door paying no regard to my presence. I was in a cold sweat and didn’t know what to do. I was howling and crying. I saw him knocking out the door that protected mother. I saw he took a big razor and started to cut mother, chopping her to pieces…
Then I heard the last thing I wanted to hear… it was Emily’s cry who stood behind me. The big man looked at my little sister, then stood up and came to us. My sister turned and ran. He blasted past me and chased after her. Why she stayed at home? Why she didn’t run away? Then she had a hairbreadth escape, and I was the only one who could save her. I ran after them. I expected the man would kill her as he had killed others, but I was quite wrong. He grasped her arm and dragged her through the house… I tried to make more noise, hoping and praying that someone would come to help. He caught Emily and shut her mouth choking her cries.
When he passed by me I pressed myself against the wall and uttered a whine: “FOR WHAT?”.
He sneered again and said in a cold unnatural voice: “Keep silence. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”.
He dragged my sister to the front door and I ran after him. He opened the door, dragged Emily outside and shut the door.
Now I’m sitting in the house with corpses of my foster parents, trembling and whimpering with anxiety. He is somewhere with Emily, heaven knows, what he is doing to her, and I cannot help her. I would help her if I could, but I cannot. I’m just sitting here looking at the door. Looking at my paws. If only I could open the door.