16

had been three days since the incident with the old woman and Victorz had been sitting on his bed for the whole of those three days, completely numb. He had spent most of his time lying on his back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, a horrible nightmare came to life and he was thrown back into that dark room where the woman's ghost was waiting for him to suffer horribly. The worst part about the dream though, was that the image of his mother screaming for help seemed to come to life in his mind as well. Every once in a while he would hear her voice yelling desperately, demanding him to wake up. Every time he heard that familiar cry for help he would jolt awake with a start, sweating and panting heavily. Sometimes, he woke up crying, which was the reason he rarely spoke to anyone in the household anymore. Even the dog had sensed that something wasn't right with him and was now laying on the floor beside his bed, whining sadly with his large brown puppy eyes. He'd spent almost all of his time indoors the past three days. He didn't want to go out unless absolutely necessary. Whenever his mother would try to talk to him about going out to get a snack or drink or something like that, he'd quickly change the subject. Eventually, she stopped asking questions altogether. Victorz just hoped she wouldn't do it again, because even though he really wasn't in the mood for talking, especially not to anyone, he didn't want to lose his chance of ever getting out of the house again, which meant that his mother needed to stop bugging him about going outside. So she would sit in the living room reading one of her books or listening to music while Victorz sat in the bedroom with the door locked tightly behind him, hugging his knees in his blanket. He never left the room alone for more than two or three hours. He never went anywhere without bringing his backpack with him. It contained everything he owned, but nothing else. Nothing important, anyway. There were some clothes, which consisted of his favourite turtleneck and jeans, a hoodie, some sneakers, a book and a pair of headphones. There weren't many possessions that he thought mattered that much, but he kept those things with him at all times just in case. It didn' make sense to him why his mother would want those objects, but he didn't think too much about it, and frankly he didn't care. At least he had a lot of blankets with him, plus he always had the heater on, so he could sit comfortably on his bed while he read a book or listened to music. That's all he really needed. It also allowed him a little more freedom. If he ever had to move away, he figured he at least wouldn't be forced to carry a heavy suitcase full of stuff everywhere he went. In the morning he still had plenty of time to walk to school, because the bus didn't usually arrive for another 20 minutes. And that morning finally arrived. After spending the last four years of his life being cooped up inside of the house, it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. As he hurriedly threw on his uniform jacket to hide the bruises from his mother's slap, he realized how much he was beginning to miss the fresh air