2

I'm terrified of the dark. But, not without just reasoning. Who knows, that monster could be under my bed right now.

      I jump up, scared silly by just the thought. No way am I going to check under my bed to see if the creature is there, of course.

      I am not sleeping in here tonight.

      Wait, if the creature is under my bed, won't it kill me as soon as I get out of it?

      Oh, my god. Why do I torture myself like this? I am fourteen years old. There is no monster under my bed. Only two-year-olds have irrational fears such as that. Yet, two-year-olds don't have to deal with an actual monster lurking around their town.

      All of the families with young children are long gone.

      Clenching my blanket in my fists, I burst out of my room and into the bathroom across the hall, being careful to shut the door. I dare to glance at the mirror. The girl in it is breathing heavy, clutching a blanket to her chest, and staring at me with wide terrified eyes. That is not me.

      Quorraline is not wimpy. Quorraline does not run from monsters under her bed. Quorraline does not lock herself in a bathroom when she’s afraid. I am Quorraline, and I’m not acting like Quorraline right now.

      I am not going to let this news break me.

      Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob. Maybe, just as a precaution, I'll sleep in the safe room tonight. At least there I'll be by a gun.

      I sprint all the way down the steps and through the living room until I’m at the cellar door. I am still holding onto my blanket as I open it. I open the box behind the boiler - where we keep all the keys to the safe room’s locks - and use the keys to unlock the door. Then, I carefully put the keys back, concealing the box behind a pipe. I open the door, step down a few steps, and lock everything back.

      My mother and father sit there staring at me, or more specifically, the blanket I’m dragging.

      "Oh, hi Mom and Dad," I greet them. "You don't mind if I sleep in here tonight, do you?"

      "Of course not, Quorra," My father says. I nod and ball up in a corner, using my blanket for warmth. A few seconds later, I hear the familiar clattering of someone unlocking the door to the safe room.

Mac comes in and sees all of us.

      "I didn't know there was a party," He says, cracking the teeniest smile I'd ever seen.

      "Welcome," I say mimicking his lack of expression. He had brought his blanket, too. Mac sidles over to sit next to me.

      "Couldn't sleep, huh?" He whispers. Mom and Dad had already returned to their own conversation.

      "No," I shake my head. "I'm really bad at sleeping."

      "Me too," Mac says. "This whole thing only makes it worse."

      "Yeah." I pause, thinking about it. "Do you really think it's going to try to get us if we go outside?"

      Mac is quiet for a minute, then he looks me in the eye. "Yes, I do. That's why we have to stay inside."

      "Oh," I hear a scream far away. It was faint but audible. From Mac's face, I can tell he heard it too. Wordlessly, he puts an arm around me.

      Times like this, I wish someone would lie and tell me that everything is going to be okay.

 

      I wake up on my brother’s shoulder. It takes a moment for me to recollect yesterday’s events. I wish I could forget.

      Looking at my sleeping family, I decide whether or not to get up and go make breakfast. They are all sleeping with worry lines etched into their foreheads, even my brother. Maybe cereal will make them feel better.

      It’s a good thing Mac and I don't have school today.

      I unlock the door to the safe room.

      I step out, glad that the kitchen is only a few feet away. Before I even look at the food, I draw all the curtains.

      "Now, what should be the delicacy of today," I speak out loud examining the contents of the refrigerator. Surprisingly, it’s fully stocked. So are the pantry and all the other food cabinets. Dad must have brought food when he came home.

I grab a few packages of instant oatmeal off a shelf and pour them into a giant microwave-safe container. After filling it with water and stirring a bit, I heat it up.

      When I dole it out into bowls, I make sure to take time with the presentation. I put some berries in, raisins for Dad, and put all four bowls on a tray. To make the meal healthier, everyone gets a glass of orange juice. Carrying the tray, I walk towards the safe room. My father nearly knocks me over.

      "Quorraline!" Dad cries.

      "What's wrong?" I cry, seeing his expression. He seems worried and petrified at the same time. But, as he looks at me his expression relaxes.

      "Never do that again," He tells me.

      "What did I do?" I ask him. He stares at me as if I’m an idiot. I realize my mistake. I should've told my family where I was going. "I mean, I'm sorry, next time I'll tell someone where I'm going."

      "No, next time, you're going to bring someone with you," he demands. I nod, swallowing nervously.

      I hadn't been scared when I woke up, but my dad's actions reignited the feeling. I walk to the door of the safe room, surprisingly it was open.

      Mom and Mac are standing at the base of the stairs looking frantic. They see me and heave sighs of relief.

      Unlike yelling at me like I expect, Mom just takes the tray from my hands, puts it on the floor and hugs me tightly.

      "Thanks for the breakfast," Mac says. "But, you should've woken me up to come with you."

      "You guys were all sleeping, I thought it might startle you if I woke you up," I explain.

      "That's thoughtful of you. But, you're old enough to know that now consideration is the least of our concerns," My mother lectures. I nod.

      "It won't happen again," I say.

      "It better not," My father orders. "Let's eat breakfast."

      My family and I sit on the floor of the safe room and eat our oatmeal.

 

      "Hey, Mac," I call out, a few hours later, staring at the wall. "Come look at this!"

      I hear thumping as Mac runs down the stairs to the safe room.

      "What's wrong?! Are you okay?" He breathes. Everyone in my family has been paranoid about me since this morning.

      "Chill, I'm fine. But look at the wall," I direct him to the passage that the loose panel in the safe room wall has revealed.

      "When did that get there?" He wanted to know.

      "Don't ask me, but while I was sitting I noticed a thin crack in the wall and I touched the panel next to it and it was loose, and I realized it slid open. It opened into this," I say. Either it hadn't been there before, or I'd never noticed it. I wonder if I should be scared.

      "Well, close it back," Mac instructs.

      "Why?" I inquire.

      "Because, who knows, it could be a tunnel dug by the creature," Mac points out.

      "The forest isn't even in that direction," I counter. Mac narrows his eyes at me. I narrow my eyes back.

      "Look, you know what happens if you stick your nose in something it's not supposed to be stuck in," Mac tells me. "You die."

      "This is our house. We should know about the stuff inside of our house," I say. Mac sighs exaggeratedly. What is with me today? It's either the boredom or the fact that I've gone crazy. Sure, I was a curious person, but I was moderately curious, not suicidal.

      "Well ... I guess if it is something dangerous then we should check it out, just in case," Mac says slowly. Even with all this monster business, I know Mac can't resist investigating. He likes knowing things. The mysterious passage in our safe room is a thing, a big thing.

      "Alright I'll go get some flashlights and we can go," I say heading upstairs. Mac grabs my arm.

      "Not now, Cor. Mom's upstairs and if she calls us and we're not there she'll freak out," He says. My shoulders sag a bit. I was looking forward to taking my mind off everything.

      "So, when?" I ask.

      "Later, maybe when mom and dad are asleep," Mac suggests.

      "Mac, mom, and dad didn't go to sleep until after we did last night," I point out. I specifically remember mom and dad talking while Mac and I were falling asleep.

      "We'll find a way," Mac says turning to go upstairs, but he turns back around to look at me. "Since when are you curious?"

      "I've always been curious," I reply.

      "No you haven't; mom says that you lock yourself in the safe room every day after school," Mac refutes.

      "Well yeah, it's different when you're curious with someone else than when you’re by yourself. If you're alone, no one can hear you scream if you need help." I point out. It’s true. Maybe that's why I was being so curious, my family was home.

      "Hmm, very philosophical of you," Mac remarks. I roll my eyes.

      "Yeah, maybe I should teach your philosophy class when school starts again," I say sarcastically. Mac looks at me strangely.

      "You really think school is going to start again?" Mac wants to know.

      I shrug "It's nice to think that things will go back to normal, eventually."

      "Yes, but life doesn't always work out that way." Mac points out practically.

      "We can dream, can't we?" I ask.

      "No, not if you don't sleep at night."

      "Mac, you totally do sleep at night; I woke up this morning and you were knocked out."

      "Who says I didn't fall asleep at midnight? Technically speaking, that's morning."

      "Can you quit being a smart aleck for once?"

      "No, if I do that then we'll never get used to any of this."

      "I hope we don't have to," I say quietly. But, Mac heard and comes down the steps to put a hand on my shoulder.

      "Hey, things always seem worse than they are," Mac says, trying to be encouraging, but I can tell he doesn't believe one word of it.

      "I think the expression's, things always are worse than they seem," I comment. Mac doesn't say anything, but goes upstairs, gesturing for me to shut the door to the passage. I do, suddenly not feeling so curious.

      What if the passage leads us directly to the lair of the creature? What if the passage is the creature's lair? What if the passage is a trap set by the creature to capture unsuspecting victims? What if our flashlights die while we're in there and we can't get out? What if the passage is a vacuum with no air and we can't breathe? What if we get out of the tunnel and then can't get back in?

      Maybe this is a bad idea. Mac and I should probably tell mom and dad about it. But, then again, Mom and Dad will probably never let us go in the saferoom again. Now that would be scary.

      I'll just wait upstairs for the rest of the day. I trot up the stairs and go to the bookshelf in the living room. After finding a decent book, I sit down and read.

 

      I read until night falls and we retreat to the saferoom for the evening. We eat a quick dinner of leftovers, then Mac and I pretend to sleep. A few minutes later, our parents start talking. 

      "I'm worried about them, Michael," My mother talks in a low voice. "Something's off about them."

      "Carolina, there is a monster in the forest outside our house," my father says. "Of course something's off about them, they're only kids and they have a lot on their shoulders." Since they’re talking about us, they must not know we’re only pretending to sleep.

      "I just wish there was something we can do, I don't want them to live like this," My mother replies. "I don't even think they remember what it was like before all this started."

      It's only been three months, of course, I remember what it was like before: when dad would sometimes take us to the station and we would pretend to be prisoners, when it was okay for me to spend the night at a friend’s house, when sometimes I would go outside and just sit on the wooden swing, when Valley Ridge was like every other small town, when we weren't scared.

      Those were the times. Back then, I didn't believe in monsters; they didn't exist. They were what little kids were afraid lived in their closets and would jump out and eat them. If I was a little kid right now, I don't think I could handle it.

Mac's arm tenses on my shoulder. He must be remembering what it was like, too.

      "Look, it's too late to do anything now. Running away isn't safe. If we wanted to leave, we'd had to have done it three months ago," my father was a practical person.

      "I just wish..." My mother's voice drifted off.

      "That we would've left?"

      "No, that things were easier."

      "Don't we all, honey. Don't we all," my father whispers. After a while, my parents' breaths even out and I realize they're sleeping. But, I wait a little bit longer, as a precaution.

      Mac sits up next to me putting his finger to his lips. Very quietly I pick up the flashlights we had been sleeping on top of. I hand one to Mac and keep one for myself.

      Then, I walk up to the panel and look at Mac. He looks back at me, then takes a deep breath and slides open the panel.

      We stand directly beside each other as we step into the darkness.