Safe House by Kyle Peng

SAFE HOUSE

It’s already been one hour in and I haven’t gotten any candy. I’ve knocked on about 600 doors today and I’ve either gotten no response or been told to go away. Honestly, I can’t even tell if it’s because I’m old as hell for a trick or treater or if my costume is too scary. Half the time I can literally see the freaking people running to turn off the lights in the front of the house. It’s really embarrassing to watch. Oh well. I can’t really expect too much out of this town. Ever since that family moved in and the dad became mayor of this county, everyone’s just been slowly becoming more and more isolated. No one wants to talk or hang out anymore. There are no more local events or competitions. I haven’t made any friends recently. This town feels really, really lonely. As I continue walking to the next house, I adjust my mask into a more comfortable position. I’m not particularly dressed up as one specific character. Basically, I’m that clown from It, that freaky Mike Myers guy, and the Grim Reaper all packed into one. No one gives a crap about costumes, about Halloween, none of that, so I went all out this year. I thought I would get some attention today. I didn’t.

I knock on the door of the next house. And I wait. I wait there for a long, long time. Literally all the lights are on in the front of the house. Wait, not just that. I walk to the right a bit, just enough to see the side of the house. The wall is covered in tall vines and bushes. A singular flower is visible underneath all the undergrowth. All the lights are on at this side of the house too.

Freeloaders. I pound on the door as hard as I can. The door seems sturdy, so I don’t care less about breaking it. Practically the biggest house in the town and the owners can’t even spare a chocolate bar for anyone. What the hell happened to this town? I take a step back and pull out my phone. Hopefully, I’ll catch the owners spilling a drink on themselves or something, anything interesting like that. Honestly, I’m so mad at this neighborhood right now that I can’t really think straight. A figure emerges at the left window of the top floor, and my hand immediately jumps at the opportunity. Unfortunately, the guy in the window isn’t doing anything at all. It’s like he’s just standing there, staring at the

window… Wait. It kinda looks like he’s looking at me. That’s really freaking me out. It’s not like I can see his eyes or anything, he’s just a blurry figure in the window. Why do I feel so unnerved? Something feels… off. Well, not off, but just really really familiar with this guy. I look up again, and it still looks like he’s staring me down like his life depends on it. With my phone, I zoom in to try to see this guy a bit clearer, and—what the hell? I rip my mask off, rub my eyes, and take another look. Katie? I can’t believe my eyes. That can’t be Katie. What the hell is she doing here? She’s supposed to be at home recovering from her hip surgery. We were riding our bikes home from school when she fell into a ditch on the side of the road. I told her not to ride so close to it.

I switch between staring at my phone and that thing in the window for a solid five minutes. No, I just walked a bit too much today. I’m just seeing things cause… Oh, come to think of it, I don’t remember having much for lunch today. Yeah, it’s gotta be that.

As soon as I look away, I hear a loud thud from the house. The top left window. I glance back and I freeze. Katie is now on her knees, fists banging on the window like a lunatic. And something else. It feels… like she’s crying? From what I could see, she was in a lot of pain.

No, no, no. This 100% cannot be Katie. Thoughts are racing in my mind faster than the speed of light. I swear I’m on drugs or something I can’t remember. Gotta be a concussion or something during soccer practice. Then, she collapses against the window. Crap. I frantically call 9-1-1 as I run towards the house. I can’t believe what the hell is happening. Ring. I try as hard as I can to break the door down. Why do these people even need this huge, thick door anyways? Ring. I try running into the door. I try kicking it down, almost breaking my damn leg in the process. Ring.

I scream my heart out for

help

I scream my heart out for help, but when I look down the street, it seems like the only house alive was the one with Katie screaming in it. I hear more bangs on the window. As I run around to the back of the house, I catch another glimpse of Katie slamming on the window. She’s bleeding. I race to the back door, nearly crying while I’m at it. I knew I shouldn’t have left Katie alone at the hospital. I latch on to the doorknob, pulling it with all my strength. My right hand gives and I let go of the doorknob, stumbling backward and tripping onto the grass. I can still hear Katie, now screaming for help. Then, I hear another screech. This time much closer, much deeper than Katie’s. And it sounds painfully familiar. My eyes drift to the left window at the back of the house. It’s my brother, Oliver. Last time I saw him was in his coffin, his hand ripped off, looking about as white as snow. And there he was, same as ever. He was kneeling, just like Katie, one hand hammering against the window and the other just like it was after the accident: mangled, broken, and useless. I started crying. I almost threw up. Both Katie and Oliver in their separate windows, me lying on the dirt staring at my dead brother in disbelief. It was all too much for me to take in. A deep pit in my stomach started growing. Taking a small, thick piece of wood from the ground, I ram the into the door as hard as I can. It doesn’t seem to budge. I try again, but this time, I lodge my shoulder into the back of the log. Running into the door with this piece of wood between me, something in my shoulder cracks. Then, a sharp pain shoots from my arm into my neck. I think I dislocated my shoulder. Top right window at the back of the house. Colson Thomas. He helped me get through my first two years of high school. Every

time I needed help with something on my homework, he’d be able to teach it to me like magic.

I stumble off to the side of the house, my eyes darting from window to window to try to comprehend what the hell is happening. I can’t tell if I’m asleep or not. George Porter. George and I used to mess around in school a lot. One of the nicest kids I’ve ever met in my life. One day, I almost killed him by running over him with my bike. He moved away to Oregon cause his dad got a much better job opportunity there. I never saw him again. Behind some tall bushes, I see a slightly open door. I stagger towards it, my arm hanging by my side. A migraine suddenly started forming in my head. But I can’t stop now. Katie, Oliver, Colson, George, they need my help. My closest relationships. I couldn’t just walk away and abandon them. I ram open the door with my shoulder. The pain was growing more and more intense, but I couldn’t care less. The door impacts the side of the wall with a piercing thud, leaving a ringing in my ear.

I looked around the room in disbelief. Charlotte Mitchel. Alexander Campbell. Chloe Foster. There were so many people here that listing all of them would take a lifetime. There were even faces that I knew but couldn’t recall. They were all staring at me in silence, crying. Ethan Ross. Austin Rivera. Sophia Gibson. A crowd started to form around me. My eyes drifted from face to face, each one harking back to one of my old memories. My first kiss. That time I fell in the lake during my camping trip. Coming in second at the talent show. The crowd started to close in on me, the circle growing smaller and smaller.

Everyone is so close to me now. I can’t help but feel a bit relieved with all my friends in one place. Layla Crawford, someone I met just recently in my history class. I broke her pen the other day. Layla seemed really pissed off about that. I watch as she takes a step closer, rests her hand on my shoulder, and pushes me down. Jayden does the same. Michael too. Soon, everyone around me is pushing me down to the floor. They are all kicking me as hard as they can now. I can feel the pain in my chest, my legs. Blood comes up to my throat and I start coughing violently. But it’s okay. I know it’s my punishment. I deserve this. I’m sorry, Katie. I shouldn’t have let you near that ditch. I’m sorry, Oliver. The accident wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have been messing around in that construction zone. At this point, I can barely see. All I can get a peek of are my friends looming above me. The never-ending barrage of kicks hitting me in my back, my stomach, my face. I can’t help but feel comfort. All of my friends in one place. I finally get to see them all one last time. The crowd around me dissipates, but I can barely breathe, blood filling up in my lungs.

As I lay there on my side, I watch as all my friends slowly walk away from me. All of them exit out the door, no one looking back at the boy on the floor. As my eyelids slowly drop, the last thing I see is my mother, steadily trudging out the door. I’m so happy. I finally got to see my mom one last time. There’s nothing left. No one to watch, no one to talk to. Everyone is gone. I’m safe now.