Joshua Johnson - 29:16:04:59

I shouldn’t be here .

This wasn’t my place, but Kyle and I needed to know what happened.

The outlay of the house was familiar. I could only recall coming her twice, but in those times the family managed to keep me for hours—so happy were the Palmers to have guests. Zoe and Peter’s rooms were separate from the children’s, down here on the ground floor. I saw the stairway that spiraled up to the second story, and the little ones’ bedrooms. It was difficult to decide which way to go at that moment.

Who deserved to be looked for first? Who deserved to be saved? Logic dictated that I should stay down here, for now. There were less rooms on this floor, and the front door was the only exit. If someone came flying down those stairs there would be enough time to handle it. Of course, Kelly could threaten someone with her sidearm if they went screaming out into the world--if that iron of hers worked right.

Flowing into the hallway, Kyle followed silently as he’d promised. With the sudden thunderstorm picking up strength, it had darkened considerably outside, bathing the hallways in a dank gloom. Shadows twisted and bounced as lightning flashed outside. My sleepless senses mutated the shades. I could feel my hands instinctively point the barrel of my shotgun at the jumping shadows, but I refrained from pulling the trigger.

Up ahead a doorway loomed into life. The wooden boards beneath our feet creaked and moaned with age. We slowed the pace, stepping carefully to make sure we staved off as much noise as possible. Raising the shotgun mid-level, I slid along the wall, inching ever closer to the opening.

No sounds escaped from beyond. I prayed for someone to make a noise, be it crying or moaning… just something, anything. The silence was too much, and a jittery shaking started in my left hand. I had never experienced that before, but I also didn’t usually go hunting for murderers either.

I dared a peek inside the doorway. I wasn’t thinking about someone with a functional sidearm burying a bullet between my eyes. I felt an idea take hold, that there wasn’t enough time to think or hang back. Lives were in danger. My gun entered first, ready to spark to life. Only a growing sense of vigor carried me forward.

I made a quick scan of the room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I looked in all the corners, behind the door, and under the bed. It wasn’t until my hand touched something wet on the bed that I knew my fears were justified.

“What is it?” Kyle asked as quietly as possible. It was too dark to make out the color until lightning flashed outside, and a deep crimson revealed the truth.

“Nooooo…” Kyle uttered. His eyes widened with horror at the sudden realization that what we’d heard earlier may have been the bullet that hit Zoe. Yet this was too strange, and too out of place for a murder. There was a very distinct lack of a body. No trail of blood leading off somewhere, and there was very little of it, just a small patch really. I would have missed it if I hadn’t stuck my head in that exact spot.

“Next room,” I whispered.

A bullet wound would have bled much more. Something different was at work here. Where was Zoe? Where were the signs of life?

The darkness only grew blacker from there as we burst back into the hallway. I turned left and went straight for Peter’s room. It was only a few strides from Zoe’s room but it felt like a much greater distance. I rushed forward, nearly running. This time the door was closed, but that didn’t slow us down. I kicked right through the timber and the door slammed open. I held my restless finger against the shotgun’s trigger, ready for anything. But there was nothing.

Peter’s room was empty save for a bed and desk. We found nothing beyond that, o blood soaked sheets or signs of struggle. Nothing leaped out at me and certainly not at Kyle. Kyle fidgeted in place with his gun tapping softly against his leg. I stared at him as if trying to summon an answer. He managed to avoid my questioning glare.

“We’re not done yet,” I ordered.

At least the rain was calming down, though it remained overcast outside. We made our way into the hallway and back towards the front of the house. Somehow the home had changed since we first entered. The creaks and groans from the foundation now occurred randomly. Her appearance transformed beyond normal shades and shadows. It seemed like dark arms reached out at us in the hallways.

A chill came over us, and my breath fogging before me. I sensed my blood grow colder.

We entered the foyer and looked toward the staircase that spiraled up to the second floor. I knew that the hallways branched in three different directions at the top, and the children’s bedrooms would be in the left side of the home.

Only a bit of sunlight breached the open doorway. The clouds overhead were just beginning to break, and light was thankfully starting to flow through the windows near the top of the house. The shadows pushed away, and I regained what I was missing, a sense of knowing what was in this miserable home.

“Some luck at least,” Kyle whispered. He was right. The light would make it that much easier for the rest of the exploration. We ascended the stairs in a quick yet careful rush. My shotgun pointed to the left, Kyle’s to the right, not wanting to let anything surprise us. Our footsteps were loud on the old wood, but there was no need to play it coy anymore after I’d kicked the door in.

We pushed onward to where I remember the first bedroom was on the second floor. It belonged to a girl probably no older than my little one, a frail little thing named Alexis. The girl was one of the most cheerful people to be around, always happy, and always a ball of pure energy. The thought of Alexis spurred me on. With shotgun mid-level and a trigger finger just waiting for someone to pop out, I circled a turn in the hallway and closed the gap to the sleeping quarters. I found nothing as I rounded the junction. I was expecting something, anything.

Everything was quiet as death as we entered the room. No signs of a struggle. Thankfully no little bodies were strung out along the floor either. There was simply nothing. I knew something happened here: gunshots happened for a reason. Blood spatters happened for a reason. But as far as we could determine, none of it made any sense.

My vision fell on something very peculiar. It rested against the far wall, near the corner on the right side. I walked over and bent down to examine it. My blood chilled a few degrees. I couldn’t begin to understand what it meant, but, frankly, I didn’t want to either.

“What is it?” Kyle asked. He stood over me. I didn’t know how to explain it so I simply picked up the severed finger and held it out for him to see. I heard his gasp, and Kyle backpedaled a few feet. The detached finger was a regular-sized, adult pinky. It looked like it was chewed off of a hand.

I breathed deeply, trying to gain some concentration. The shotgun grew heavy in my arms, and my eyelids felt like dropping, laden with this uneasy exhaustion that didn’t allow me to sleep. I didn’t know why, but I kept the finger in my hand. It felt like it was something important, a means to an end.

I met Kyle’s gaze. He nodded and moved into the hallway once more.

We moved swift and loud as we progressed to the last room in the hallway. Joanne’s room was up ahead. She was the youngest of the Palmers. She had soft, violet eyes but never talked much. She usually just sat in a corner looking off into the abyss. I wondered what those violet eyes had seen thus far.

Suddenly, we heard the faintest of whimpers. It was barely audible, but there. A soft orange glow illuminated the hallway, seeping from the crack of a hardly-opened doorway just ahead. It was enough for us to quicken our pace and burst into the room.