Chapter 1: Chapter 1
A little different from what I normally write, and its my first attempt at horror themes. But I can't say that I don't like horror because that's something I feel deep inside. I may even write a horror BL some day. Soon. Ive already got it mapped out to be honest.
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They told him not to open the door. He'd grown up his whole life inside that house, but he never opened the door. He shouldn't open the door. He couldn't open the door, and for a while, Samuel thought everything would be fine. Every time he passed by the door on his way to school, he'd look at the door, but then he would keep walking. It was terrifying, whatever was kept on the other side of the door. More than terrifying, it struck a coldness deep inside his chest where even the worst fear could never reach. That should have been ok, but it wasn't.
The door wasn't much, just a simple white oaken thing that hung on rusty hinges. When it opened, they could hear it throughout the whole house. It was only a simple creak of rusty hinges. That's what he told himself at least when it got dark and the whole house went quiet. The first time he'd heard the door open, he'd been 11 and he'd been trapped in his own bed. Dread had filled every corner of his limbs and he could barely breathe. He pulled the covers up past his head and curled up tightly into a ball beneath. Nothing could get through the impenetrable force of his own blanket. Or at least, that's what he told himself.
When the door opened, he could hear the whispers that crawled through their house. His room was the only room on the second floor other than the Room. He was completely, and utterly alone and if he screamed, his mother wouldn't make it up the stairs fast enough to save him. So he pretended everything was ok because the whispers that rolled their ways through the halls weren't too bad. They really weren't.
Later the next morning, he tried asking his mom if she had gone into the Room. His mom had given him a cold glare before pouring her coffee into her work cup. She was quiet, her shoulders hunched down like she'd lost something primal and important. A look she rarely had and Samuel hadn't understood. At least, at that time he couldn't understand. Her eyes seemed to have darken during the night and the wrinkles had increased drastically. Permanent dark circles had found their ways beneath her beautiful aqua colored eyes. The chocolate brown hair she always kept up in a bun had started to turn grey. When they say you can see someone age overnight, his mother truly had.
Samuel didn't mention the Room again. Not to his mom at least, because he hated to see her sad. He hated to see her scared because he knew she was terrified. She steered clear of the Room like the plague and had even gone all out to make sure she never even brushed against the door handle. Samuel had reached out to brush against the door handle once. A hesitant hand just inches away from its cool touch. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to turn the knob and let the door swing open and reveal every secret the Room had. But at 11 years old, he obeyed his mother because he trusted her. He trusted her enough that whatever lay beyond the door wasn't for his eyes. No matter how much he wanted to open the door and walk through.
His mom was a hardworking woman, after all. And she was smart. She worked at the local hospital as a nurse despite how much she hated it. Samuel's grandparents who'd all passed away due to misfortune had harped on her to continue studying medicine. So she did. She'd thrown her passions and hopes away to follow the same path as her brothers. She had two, Michael and Andrew but they'd quit coming around the second they'd moved into this house. If you asked his mom, though, she longed to sing. She'd grown up on the stages and had been in all the choirs. Her voice was like honey when she sang and it erased all the fears and aches Samuel had ever had. When she danced, it was like magic. She was fluid like a stream and always kept her audience on their toes. She was amazing and Samuel loved her. What kid wouldn't love their mom? She should've become an actor, Samuel liked to think as he got older. She had a way with her face where it bled raw emotion that seemed almost real, despite her putting on a show. Her expressions were like gold,and she was tenacious. They watched a lot of movies growing up, and Samuel couldn't help but to compare her to all of them. His mom was better. She was meant for the stage, and she was meant to have an audience. Instead, she got thrown into a job she abhorred and a career she wanted to flee from. So, when his mom came home he would smile his widest smile and tell her all about his day. Because, when Samuel smiled, she smiled and for a while, that was enough. His mom deserved the world on a golden platter. She deserved happiness. So Samuel did not go into that room. The Room. The very epicenter of all his nightmares and fears.
He could feel it bleeding out every now and then. Like tiny ghostly tendrils that rapped at his door throughout the night. He dreamed of skeletons and horror. A kind of gore even the movies couldn't create. In his dreams, Samuel believed he was in Hell. Whether Hell was relative or not, it felt abnormally real in his dreams. He was afraid to sleep some days because all his dreams held were screams and people whose flesh had been torn free from their skeletons. The Room, though, stayed quiet when he woke and all his mother could give him were feeble apologies. Then, she'd grab a bottle of beer from the fridge, ruffle Samuel shaggy black hair and go into her own room. She locked it, and throughout the quiet house, the lock felt like a deadbolt. He wasn't allowed inside her room, either. It was off limits.and he didn't touch that door knob.
Eventually, she kept growing more distant. Her smiles didn't seem as beautiful. He didn't feel warmth in his soul every time she looked at him. It was as if the life was being sucked out of her as the days grew on. The calender would be taken down from the wall and replaced with another and she continued to grow distant. She became sadder. Paranoid. He'd walk by her room on his way to the kitchen and he could hear her talking to herself. Only angry words though, the ones he was never allowed to say. Sometimes, he'd hear glass shatter and he would be terrified that something had happened to his mother but then she would shout once more and everything would be fine. Their relatives called it a psychotic breakdown, a call for help. They talked about taking Samuel away from her, but they never did. He did well enough on his own, why would anyone else need to take care of him?
It wasn't until Samuel turned 15 that he realized his mother wasn't going to return to who she once was. The only times she came out of her room were to work or eat. Otherwise, she wasn't around. He missed her and he'd tried to talk to her, but she never listened. He didn't have too many friends either, so there wasn't anyone he could hang with after school to make the loneliness go away. He'd sat by her door for so long that the floorboards had started to wear universally and the paint on the old walls had started to scrape off from where his back would lean across it.
The door opened again, late in the night. It was around 12 A.M. and for the first time in a long time, something screamed. Or someone. Samuel cried out in agony as he clutched at his ears. It was excruciating and he couldn't escape it. He tried to crawl underneath his burgundy blanket once more to find relief from the pain, but it didn't stop. It pounded against his skull and the longer the screaming went on, the more it felt like maniacal laughter. Despite being 15, Samuel was terrified. He sobbed as things ran up and down the hallways. They laughed, and they screamed. Nails dragged across his door and the door knob would wiggle but Samuel had locked it. He never failed to lock his door at night since the first time the Door had opened.
"Let us in Sammie!" They tuttered and banged against the wood.
"Go away," Samuel cried. "GO AWAY!"
But they didn't. They banged on the door until any normal human's fist would have gone bloody. It should have never been like this. Never. When they'd moved into the new house, they had hoped for a new beginning. It was supposed to be a chance to get away from the life they'd left behind. The father Samuel feared and the husband his mother could no longer trust. New school, new job and a brand new life. It would have been good.
If the Room hadn't had different ideas. But the Room needed them. It was greedy.
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