The door opened quickly and violently, as if someone was breaking in, but Maddie knew otherwise. Brandon stumbled in, hiccupping as he went, closing the door behind him, fiddling with the keys in his hand before sighing angrily and waving at the door, as if the air would lock it for him. Drunkenly, he turned, swaying heavily, his arms swinging around him like vines around a tree. As their eyes met he stopped, in his drunken state assuming she hadn’t seen him. Her glare was fixed and arms folded. She was wearing what she did every night, a long grey nightie, one she had worn since their wedding, ‘easy access’ she had called it. But now her face wasn’t the same as that night, it was stern and furious with flared nostrils and wide eyes.
“Where have you been?” Maddie demanded, quoting almost every wife whose husband had come home inexplicably drunk.
“Out,” Brandon said quickly, trying his best to hide his slurs.
“Where?” she demanded again. He huffed at her.
“Out,” he repeated. This time, she huffed at him, taking a step closer. Now, Brandon could see the fury in her blue eyes and her withdrawn tongue as she held back her shouts.
“You better have a bloody good reason,” she seething, breathing heavily through her teeth. Brendon huffed at her again, pushing aside her anger clearly written across her face.
“Did you miss me?” he teased, still swaying, his arms dangerously close to the framed pictures on the table beside him. Maddie recoiled slightly, her anger slowly fading into sorrow, tears building in her eyes. She bit her lip and sucked in cool air before looking back at him.
“Yes, I did,” she said. Brandon jolted back slightly at the sincere, contained answer, swinging himself steady again. “Because while you were off galivanting around town with your friends, I was here, tucking our daughter into bed. And as I am doing that, my phone rings. I have to stop saying goodnight to her to answer it. It was from my father…” she hesitated, breathing in sharply again but her eyes never left his. “My mother died.” She finished. Even through his drunken vision, Brendon could see Maddie’s eyes well up again, more tears falling down her face. He brought a hand forward to pull her closer but she stepped back, lightly pushing his hand to the side and he let it fall, confusion spreading across his face. She took in another deep breath. “This is how it’s been since the beginning. You go out, get drunk, come home late and I'm already asleep and I find you passed out on the sofa. Thought it was funny and cute to begin with, but then it got boring and annoying. But then, you stopped, cleaned up your act, but, since last week, you’ve been sneaking out to drink, leaving me alone. And not only that, but alone with your infant daughter.” Once she had finished, Brendon had started to cry, the warm tears gently falling down his face, creating a river as they meandered down where the wrinkles of smiles used to form.
“Maddie, I,” he started.
“No,” she interjected, her voice stern again. “I have lost my mother, your daughter has lost her grandmother, a woman she will never remember. I lost someone and the only person I could talk to was our daughter, who was confused about why I was crying in the first place! I don’t want her Christmas ruined with the memory of her grandmother’s death! And you weren’t here for me, or for her. I don’t feel like I can rely on you anymore.” Brendon opened his mouth but she barged past him, heading for the stairs.
“Maddie, please I’m…” he tried, but she didn’t turn. As she reached the stairs she stopped, her back still to him.
“I'm taking Rachel to my brother’s tomorrow,” she said after a moment, her voice warbled with tears, holding back the urge to run to him. “We can talk more after that.” With no further words, and ignoring Brendon’s wails and desperate calls, Maddie walked up the stairs and to their bedroom, where she didn’t sleep.
Day 1
Closed Eyes
Closed Eyes
Deafening
Deafening
Closed Eyes
Day 15
E s t 2 0 2 0
Published: July 5th 2020
Ticking Clock
The ticking echoed through the empty halls, my ears following the distant sound. It stopped and I stiffened, throwing my head around me, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure. The ticking started again, behind me. I quickly spun around to see the figure dart into a nearby room. My eyes fixed on the doorway, its rotten white paint peeling off, small flecks floating to the floor from the rush of air that had just passed it. The ticking continued, the sound echoing around me. I sighed, holding my eyes open.
“What do you want?” I muttered, tears building in my eyes. I knew it could hear me, it always could. Out of the corner of
my eye, I could see him. His eyes were lifeless, open as if he were looking in horror, his final scream etched into his face through his wide mouth and stretched features. I slowly moved my head to look at him, or what was left of him. It had ripped him apart as soon as I turned my head. He was the only one that believed me, the only one I trusted. The only one I loved. His spine trailed out of his body, blood spewing from the wound. His ribs were scattered around the floor, and his heart was torn out. Both his legs were gone, and his mouth had been torn open further. I remembered as I turned to watch, that’s all I could. His screams went from ones of pain to pleas. Slowly, his screams were drowned as he gurgled on his own blood. As soon as he was dead, it dropped him and sprinted into the shadow of the warehouse. My eyes returned to his eyes. Another tear rolled down my cheek.
I stopped. The ticking had stopped. My eyes quickly turned to the doorway, seeing it still empty. I searched widely around myself for it. I was panicking, sweat and tears coming together as they fell down my face. As I turned, I grabbed the piece of wood I thought would protect me, holding it in front of me. I continued to pivot, the ticking still not returning. My huffs started to turn into screams, then to pleas. I stopped, falling to my knees and breathing heavily, with the wooden beam in my hands dropping to the floor with a cloud of dust floating into the air. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, waiting to feel its talons slice through my chest.
“Hey!” a voice shouted. My eyes shot open and I slowly looked behind me. There, stood a police officer, holding a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. His grey eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and frustration. “What are you doing here? This is a restricted area! Didn’t you see the danger signs outside?” he gestured to the front of the warehouse. I stood quickly and ran to him, my hand gripping his uniform.
“You have to leave!” I shouted, but he didn’t listen.
“As do you,” he sneered, grabbing my collar and pulling me towards the door. I shouted, but he ignored me. I closed my eyes and pulled on the man’s arm. Then he screamed. I kept my eyes shut as the man begged for his life. I felt myself moving, my legs moving to avoid its attacks. Eventually, the man stopped screaming, and I opened my eyes. I gagged. Blood covered the wall in front of me. Somehow, I had been taken to the other side of the room and was now holding the man’s severed arm in my hand. I dropped it and vomited onto the dismembered corpse. I closed my eyes again, then reopened them to look at the carnage. The man’s head was pinned to the wall by the wooden beam I had dropped, the tip penetrating the eye socket, and blood pouring down the wall. The man’s chest was ripped open, his heart missing. Both of his legs were broken, and his knees bent backwards. I closed my eyes again and fell to the floor. The ticking started again. I stiffened and looked behind me, at his corpse, then back at the police officer’s corpse. The ticking was distant, as if satiated. My breathing slowed, unable to take my eyes off the bodies, looking to each of them, dread started to fill my stomach. I looked back at the doorway but saw nothing. In the corner of my eye, something moved. I turned, but it scurried away before I could see it. Again, something moved in the corner of my eye, I turned to see it, but it vanished. I saw it again, and I turned. And again. And again. Desperation started to fill me as I wildly spun around, seeing the figure dart and dodge its way around me.
“What do you want!?” I screamed, “What do you want? What do you want?” My screams started to fade, and I started to sob, closing my eyes and bringing my hands to my face. As my hands met my face, as did a foreign object. The item was sticky and stank of blood. It squelched as I tightened my grip and oozed as I released it. I opened my eyes to see the bleeding heart of the police officer in my hand, but I didn’t scream, or yell or drop it in horror. The ticking started to get closer. I squeezed the heart again and watched as a trickle of blood slowly dripped from one of the severed arteries. A small smile stretched across my face. The ticking was now the only sound I could hear, it seemed to synchronise itself with my own heartbeat. I released the heart and let it drop to the floor. It hit the ground with a satisfying thud, a small blood splatter created from its impact. I looked at my hands, and at my bloodied clothes.
“It…Feels…Right.” I muttered. The ticking continued to echo through my mind, but now it was calming. I looked back at the body of the officer, seeing the man’s terrified, pale face. His remaining eye had fallen into the back of his head and his mouth hung open in shocked awe. “Let’s fix that,” I muttered as I stepped up to the man and gently gripped his jaw. Without a second thought, I pulled sharply. The man’s cheek ripped with a satisfying tear. His jaw bone cracked, then there was silence. I stepped away and nodded at the now smiling man. I looked behind me, and could now see him smiling at me, his face no longer ripped apart, but a beautiful smile torn into his face. I looked at that entrance and saw the bright, glowing sun beaming down. I took in a deep breath and stepped forward, out of the warehouse, and back into the world. As I did, I realised the ticking was almost silenced. I smiled gleefully. I had nearly conquered it, nearly silenced it, and this was all it took. I looked back at the bodies and then back at my hands. It had followed me for so long. I had to silence it. I needed to. Tucking my hands into my pockets, I walked onto the main road, seeing a woman slapping her car’s engine with her palm. Her hair was black and slung over one shoulder. Her dark sunglasses covered her eyes, but not her frustrated features. She looked up and noticed me. I lifted a hand and waved.
​
“Need a hand?”