Mr. Keith’s House – Part V
Mr. Keith's House
My heart sinks when I hear the front door lock, followed by the beast’s sinister laugh. I didn’t think beyond grabbing mom before she ran up the stairs, nor did I realize how powerful her emotions were to wake the monster.
With my arm still around her waist, I pull her back down the stairs as she struggles against my attempt. She keeps trying to tear away from me while screaming my brother’s name, “Kyle…Kyle.”
I physically pick her up. “Mom, it isn’t Kyle. Listen to me.” I tell her while holding her resisting body and carrying her back down the stairs. She goes limp in my arms when hearing the guttural voice, and when I reach the foyer, she stays frozen when I put her down on her feet.
Her hand flutters to her throat, glancing around as if waking up to her surroundings. “What is that?” she asks me in a voice barely above a whisper.
Figuring mom will follow, I walk into the kitchen and sit at the table. Sure enough, she sits down with me a few moments later, looking ready to bolt at the slightest sound.
“That is the creature that took Kyle and inhabits this house,” I tell her, exhausted, but I try to explain things to her, hoping she finally gets it. “I have been telling you that for the last thirteen years, and now you woke it up.”
That startles her and brought her gaze to mine. “What?”
“Mom, it feeds on emotions, and your powerful feelings of love, confusion, fear, and anger are like an energy drink. That’s what I have been telling you, but you don’t believe me.”
“Because it’s impossible. It can’t be real – things like that don’t exist.”
“Then how do you explain the laugh and us locked in the house?”
“We’re not locked in.” Her voice trails away as if unconvinced by her own words.
“Then leave if you can,” I tell her, waving my hand towards the front door. “Go ahead. Try.”
I watch the conflicting emotions in her eyes, and I knew she was struggling because everything she thinks she knows up to that moment is unraveling. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how to break through that wall of ignorance she wore like a shield. Plus, a part of me didn’t want to try because her blaming me for Kyle’s disappearance and refusal to listen still hurt me.
Mommy. Mommy, I want to go home.
Her eyes widen, and she twists in her chair as if to get up, and I grab her hand, pulling her back.
“It isn’t Kyle, Mom. Don’t listen to him.”
Please, I’m so cold and want to go home.
Mom’s voice rose to almost a screech. “Then who is it? Because it sounds just like Kyle.”
“Use your head. If it were Kyle, he would be twenty-three years old. Does that sound like an adult to you?”
“Then who is that?” She asks shrilly.
“It is something pretending to be Kyle, and you not wanting to believe that doesn’t change the facts,” I tell her, keeping my tone even and calm. She is running on adrenaline and not thinking straight, and I’m concerned she will dash toward the stairs again.
So, I keep my voice even and reassuring, hoping to break through to her. She looks directly at me. “That’s not Kyle?”
“No, it’s not Kyle.”
She licks her lips, nervously looking around. “We’re locked in?”
“Yes, we’re locked in.” She’s coming around to the truth.
Hesitantly, she licks her lips again. “Can I try the door?”
“Yes, mom, you can if that makes the situation sink in more because I need you to be here with me.”
So, we stand up, and I walk mom to the door. She turns the handle. It doesn’t move, and she turns the lock and tries again. But when she places her hand on the knob, the lock clicks back, locking them inside once more.
She whimpers.
“Mom,” I say reassuringly, “don’t lose it. I need you to keep it together. It feeds off your emotions, so don’t strengthen it.”
I see a slight nod of her understanding and release my pent-up breath. I knew what to do, but I had trained for this moment; my mother, on the other hand, didn’t. Now I have to deal with her while limiting how much energy she gave that thing.
The terrible laugh begins again, growing in crescendo until the sound vibrates the walls, causing mom to cover her ears. I refuse.
“This changes nothing,” I told it. “Taking my mom prisoner and locking us together doesn’t change anything.”
The thing howls in response, and I smile. Good, it accepts my challenge. I glance at mom, who was still cowering with her hands over her ears.
“Mom,” she looks up at me. “If we’re going to get out of here, we need to work together, and you have to start by accepting that this is real. Do you understand?”
She lowers her hands and stands taller, and I hear the strength return in her words. “I know it’s real, Ramon, and I’m sorry I doubted you,” mom takes a deep breath, then says. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
