Dark. Wet. Empty.

The wall was cold and rough against his back, chafting through his bedraggled clothes to rub raw patches of welted skin. They stung, but such pains were inflicted often, so often he became hardened by it. He breathed in the composite smell of musty air, sweat, wet soil, and vomit, even though it nauseated him.

Sniffling, he wiped at his tearstained face, huddling closer, chin on grazed knees. The sun was gone; the moon's pale glow barely lit down to where he sat with his eyes closed, whimpering and flinching at the slightest sound.

"I won't do it again, dad!" He shrieked when something scurried past his feet, suddenly fearful of what else lurked in the dark. " Please! Let me out!"

Somewhere ahead, Caleb heard abrupt footsteps, which told him Mark had strayed from his side and was scuffling blindly in the dark.

Meanwhile he had an ear glued to the door, listening for the 'mob' of birds outside and hearing nothing but his racing heart. Perharps they were, at this moment, skulking noiselessy on the doorstep to lure them out with false security. Caleb could imagine fending off a flurry of black that bore talons which would dig into his skin, scratching, and a relentless beak pecking away. He couldn't understand why such a thing mattered or how any of this made sense, birds attacking for no reason--it was absolutely riduculous, what he was doing, what he was thinking.

He silently swore at how rattled he was by the discomposing turn of his day. Much worse, he found himself recalling ever so lucidly one of the single most disturbing times he had had going back to his unsavory childhood. Far too clear for comfort.

"Sir?" Mark whispered, his voice sounding farther away than his footsteps had. There was a loud thump then a low grunt overlapping the short, shrill sound of something scraping the floor. "Why is it so dark in here?" He hissed.

So dark. So silent.

"I'm here." Caleb said, turning his head in the direction of Mark's voice despite not being able to see him---it was way too dark. Almost like the night was entrapped inside."I haven't moved from the door. Use your phone to--"

He was suddenly dazzled by a bright light, making him squint. Caleb went to shield his eyes with a hand but the discomfort ceased as soon as it came.

"Sorry, sir." Mark said in a meek voice, aiming the light somwhere other than his superior's face.

"It's fine." Caleb brought out his phone, and there were two steady streams of light bobbing in what seemed like a void--not even a shred of daylight.

"Didn't you say the door was locked?" Mark asked. He had been a few feet down the hallway and was walking back, careful to keep his light at ground level.

"I thought so, too " Caleb said." Maybe its lock is faulty or something." They were certain no one was home, because he had called out her name and that of the kids a few times and neither answered.

Or did someone break in? It's unlike her to leave without securing the house properly.

He had been in here enough times to know that two windows flanked the door. Choosing the one on his right, Caleb drew back the curtains, expecting broad daylight, a view of-- if not his car--the doorstep, mostly because he wanted to know whether those birds still lurked or had flown away. But he was met with a wall of black instead, as though something opaque curtained the frame on the other side.

What in the world---

There was a barricade, and past the fortifying bars were netted rectangles the size of the window pane designed to keep mosquitoes out. Rather than dwell on if he was seeing things or not, Caleb put a hand through,slid the net aside, grasped one lock keeper--it felt wet-- and pushed, once, twice until, at last, he stopped trying.

Stuck.

After fumbling around, he held the light up to further investigate what could be causing the stiffness. The glass was misty, droplets of water streaked down its surface. Caleb pulled back, confused yet again. Last night had been showery, a little cold, but no longer, and that's because of the sweltering heat oustide.

"Hey, Mark, come give me a hand with this." Caleb said. He turned and soon realised he was alone--no second light. Mark had decamped without him knowing. "Mark?" He called, moving down the hallway, certain the boy must have wandered deeper into house.

As he went along, Caleb tried as many switches on the wall as his light fell on, finding all of them coincidentally 'faulty'. Maybe there is no electricity , he thought, just as Jane had.

On entry into the living room, his beam caught the white of Mark's shirt. Caleb saw that Mark backed him and was percievably rigid where he stood off to a side. He also observed Mark had his phone pressed to a palm, delibrately obsuring the light emanating from it.

A sudden wave of stale air hit him. Caleb struggled for a moment to catch his breath. So stuffy. " First time here and you already know your way around," he rasped, choking on the heaviness in his lungs. A few quick breaths and Caleb felt himself gradually become inured. That's when he noticed Mark hadn't responded, standing as still as a pole.

He went to grab Mark's arm. "Hey, what's--" a hand latched unto his in a vice like grip, starling him.

"It-It's really bad, sir." Mark stuttered, and Caleb could detect an undertone of fear in his voice. "So bad," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"Caleb asked, but the boy was trembling, enough for him to feel it through that hand.

Something had been off ever since they came in, disconcerting him, from the door, the darkness , to the window and now this pertrified boy, clutching his arm desperately.

It shot a frisson of fear through him, even before he saw the patchy traces of bloody footprints leading to a couch that had been gashed open in several places, exposing the bloodstained foam beneath. The centre table had been overturned and lay in shards of glass, shattered flower vases and trampled flowers. All the scatter cushion were tossed aside; one on the headrest of another marred couch; two nestling beside a broken lamp with it's head dislodged from the fall; another askew on the shelf underneath the television, which, formerly upright,now hung down, the smashed screen rippling with cracks. A knocked over wastebasket spewed crumpled papers.

Blood, that was all he could see, all he cared about. On the pillows. On the white fleecy rug.Smeared across the furniture and tiled floor. Blemishing the cream walls.

Before he could stop himself, Caleb freed his arm despite Mark's feeble protests, stepped forward, and cautiously approached one footprint in particular. Squatting, he got a closer look, thinking this had been made when someone tripped while they ran.

Could it be that someone broke in? An animal perharps? Were those distress calls? What if she had been hurt, or----

No, she's fine. Probably at the hospital right now for an appointment. The children are also at school.

Then whose blood was this? He reached out a probing finger.

"You shouldn't touch anything, sir." Mark warned gently from behind him, and he retracted the finger, fisting his hand.

Admist utter confusion, trepidation and his unwillingness to comb the house, afraid of what he might find, Caleb floundered, breathing in that musty smell from years ago. Mouldy, wet earth, sweat, vomit.He felt as though something were picking at his brain, groping around; it made his head hurt, badly.

"Mark," Caleb called softly, distractedly.

Mark, who was wary as he flicked his light about, stepped up. "Sir?'

"Do you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

No, he doesn't.

"Call the police." Caleb said stiffly, rising. He stared down at the stain, felt his mouth go dry, felt his heart pounding, and said with a calm voice. "You'll stay here while i search the place."For her , he almost added.
It struck him that the ideal reaction since he was met with the grisly scene would have been to frantically charge in while yelling her name, but Caleb found himself crippled by gruesome possibilities: what if , against his belief, she was somewhere inside, already dead, or whoever had done the heinous deed never left? Had Mark been right all along?

No.

"What if whoever did this is still in here?I'd rather come with---"

"Just do as i've said," Caleb snapped, shutting him up." If you'd prefer to do it outside, birds or not, fine by me. Your choice." A sound diverted his attention, faint squeaking. "Do you hear that?" He turned around, flitting the light over to Mark, who was frowning at his phone.

Someone had appeared in the room.

Caleb only glimpsed a swatch of white, then something wooden reared back before thrusting forward. "Mark! Behind you!"

There was a screech of effort. He saw Mark' puzzled look and momentary hesitation as he was clobbered on the back of his head, and he lurched forward with a grunt, stumbling into Caleb who lunged for the catch. They both fell back, landing awkwardly on the floor, Mark knocked out cold.

He barely had enough time to fret over his condition, breathing hard and clutching him around the shoulders, before another scream came from above. A feminine voice. Mark's phone disassembled somewhere, but he still had his which smacked against the boy's chest when they fell, plunging them into darkness. Caleb fumbled for it, and shot its glare at their assailant.

There was a long hiss.

A pale, gaunt face hidden beneath damp, limp tendrils of hair scrunched up tightly, teeth clenched, accentuating hollow cheeks. Arms almost bone thin held a wooden pistle aloft and her night dress, bloodstained, wet, oversized on an emaciated body, hiked up as she raised it even higher.

She brought it down with all her might, Caleb rolled both himself and Mark out of the way, a loud thump striking where he'd just been. But before he did, he caught sight of something familiar: a birthmark on her chest where her nightdress dipped, one he had kissed several times while she'd close her eyes, sighing contently into his ear.

Setting Mark down as gingerly as he could, Caleb shuffled to his feet, keeping the light on her face, holding a hand out. "Jane! Jane! Wai--"

She swung at him, and he was forced back, ducking his head. Her eyes were wide, sunken, and Caleb could see the hysterical fear smouldering those amber irises.

"It's me, Caleb! It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you.Put that thing down, please!" He hastened to say when she swiped at him again and missed. It was her, although he struggled to reconcile who he was seeing with who he'd dropped off barely a day ago. Caleb made up his mind that if she attempted any more hits, he was going to tackle her down.

"Caleb?"He saw a flicker of recognition slacken her taut face, then her faded brows furrow in confusion. She wielded the pistle threateningly again, cracked lips pressed together. "How do i know it's you!?" She poked at him.

"It's me, see?" Caleb promptly illuminated his face, pointing up a finger, for as long as five seconds, because he didn't want Jane catching him off guard.

But Jane looked unconvinced."I-i- don't believe you," She said, shaking her head, stepping closer," I'm sorry, you'll just have to convince me."

" But i just showed you my face. C'mon , you know how i sound like." He took two steps back.

"People can look alike. People can sound alike."

He strove for a calm voice."Jane, please, i don't know what happened but you need help, and so does Mark. It was him you hit. Just calm down, drop---"

"I said convince me, Caleb."

"How else can i prove it, Jane?"

"I don't know! You better do it or else...." Jane shoved the pistle forward in warning.

"Okay, okay, okay," Caleb thought hard. She was too irritated, and knowing her, any false move on his part could be injurious. He saw her squint, which meant she probably wasn't seeing him. It's too risky.

Dammit!

"When i was eight years old my father had me spend the night in our newly dug well as punishment for skipping school to play football with my friends," He began, stumbling over the words, "and ever since then, i've been afraid of the dark. I told you before, passing it off as a joke, but the truth is, it affected me somehow. Remember our first time together, how i insisted on the lights afterwards? It was the reason. Do you believe me now?"

Caleb wasn't sure she did, because she just stared into the light, breathing hard. Then the fight left her;Jane let go of the pistle. It dropped with a hard thud. She sniffled,eyes shimmering.

"Caleb....i'm so sorry." Both hands covered her mouth, and for the first time, he saw that they were bandaged.

She went to hug him, encirling his waist and burrying her face in his chest. Jane began to sob, her shoulders quivering. Relief, so painful it broke his heart , washed over Caleb, letting him breathe freely, and he hugged her back, not caring about her damp feel.

"You scared the life out of me," Caleb said, enfolding her tightly. She was so thin.

Once she stopped crying, Jane disengaged herself, and he placed the light in their middle so they could see each other. She met his eyes, wiping hers. "Why are you here, Caleb?You shouldn't be here. It's in the middle of the night. You--you have to leave now." She said shakily.

She's just shocked. Whatever happened must have left her delirious.

Jane stared beyond him. He soon realised she was mumbling.

"Hey, hey....look at me." Caleb cupped a cheek, forcing her attention back on him. He tried not to cringe, feeling bone and not skin. "Are you alright?Are you hurt anywhere? What happened here, Jane? What's going on?"

That fear, that bewilderment, never left her face, and maybe his questions weren't registering, because even though he was standing in front of her, holding her tear stained cheek, she had the look of someone lost in a forest at night. Jane was seeing those trees, and not him, fearful of what might be lurking behind them. But he asked anyway.

"I-i- i'm fine," she whispered, turning away from him.

But you don't look fine!

"I'm taking you to the hospital. For now, that's what i'm going to do. You don't look fine." He said firmly and grasped her arm before she could elude him. Again feeling bone.

Yanking the arm free, Jane suddenly went on her knees, crawling until she was beside Mark,who was lying in an awkard position near the counch, his glasses askew on his face.

"What have i done?" Jane fretted. She bent over him, hovering, not sure what she should do.

Caleb knelt next to her, he moved Jane gently aside and handed over his phone, which she held above them while he placed two finger under the boy's nose then pressed them to his neck, close to the windpipe.

"He's breathing." Caleb stated, much to Jane's relief. " I don't know how hard he was hit or have any idea of his condition, so we need to get him to the hospital." He raised Mark's head and felt his scalp behind. Caleb's hand came away bloody.

Jane's breath hitched. She clutched at Caleb's sleeve. He held onto her hand.

"I-i- didn't mean it." She choked out.

"It's okay. He's going to be fine, Jane, i promise. I just have to get him to the hospital, you too."

"I still don't understand what you're doing here, Caleb--why both of you are here." Her fingers were interfering with the light, making a silhuoette of that gaunt face.

"This isn't the best time."

"Just tell me."

Something about her tone of voice compelled him to, commanded even.

Shifting so he could look at her, Caleb frowned. " I got your calls while i was in the studio, working. I tried to call after back but your phone was switched off.......then i stopped by the office. With the amount of calls, i thought something happened and wanted to check up on you. I was told by Steph that you weren't on seat. I came here instead, partly expecting you'd be home because you told me you were going for an appointment with your doctor;Mark tagged along. I'm really sorry, Jane. I wish i had come sooner --"

"Caleb, you're not making any sense right now." Jane said. " Daybreak is still hours away. And i never called you."

Author's note:

Thanks for reading. Please vote and comment. (Pardon my errors).