2. Damien

Idrop the knife next to Samantha's lifeless body on the ground before I turn and start for the stairs. The spooky piano music plays from the stereo as I step over all the corpses on the floor. The hardwood floor is so soaked with blood I bet they'll have to completely replace it. It even lines the floorboards.

Things will be better now that Samantha and her shitty friends are gone. Now, it can just be me and Trixie. I can take care of her. I always have anyway. The abuse is over. The war has ended.

I don't take off my mask as I march up the stairs and pull down the zipper of my hoodie, letting it fall to the floor. The sound of Trixie's giggling stops me in my tracks. Did she hear that? Did their screaming wake her?

If they weren't already dead, I'd kill them for disturbing her. I'd do anything for that little girl.

Walking into the room, Trixie stands in her playpen, trying to climb out to get to the bucket of candy. I should've known once she had a taste, she'd want more. She has a sweet tooth.

I groan as I pull my mask over my head and let it stay there like a baseball cap. "It's over now," I say before I pick her up and she wraps herself around me. When she pulls back an inch to look up at me, her entire torso is covered in blood. Shit. It must've soaked through my jacket.

She doesn't seem to notice or care.

We both bathed in blood tonight. In a truly twisted way, it binds us together. The same blood that has been on my skin, now coats hers. It's quite fitting. The color compliments her hair. I reach up to rub the chocolate off her cheek but the blood from my fingers transfers to her cheek. I run my fingers down her face, adding more to the masterpiece and she giggles before smiling up at me.

"Look what you've done. You need another bath," I mumble, but she doesn't react at all, except to lay her face against my chest. She might not want to admit it but she's tired. A bath should put her right to sleep. I can figure something out in the morning. I'll need to get rid of the bodies or we'll have to leave. Trixie can't live in a house with rotting corpses all over the place.

I'll be able to think straight after some much needed sleep.

I start to take her to the bathroom when I hear the sirens outside. Police sirens. This is one thing I did not anticipate. Did someone see me kill those kids and know it was me? Maybe a neighbor heard the screaming and called the cops. It's possible.

Suddenly, a door downstairs slams and I still hold Trixie close. Maybe they'll see the bodies and go away? They might be scared. I don't have the knife with me or I'd take care of whoever it is. I don't care if it"s a cop or even Trixie's parents. No one is taking her from me. I need to keep her safe. In some way, she holds the key to my sanity, to keep the darkness away and hold me up to the light. We're bound together because of what's happened. No one can take her from me.

Trixie holds me close and she doesn't move. She doesn't even breathe. Neither do I.

"Is anyone alive in here?!" Someone yells from downstairs and I don't take a chance of them hearing me. I don't even take a step. What if the floorboards make noise? They'll find us up here. "Call for back-up. It's a bloodbath in here!"

"Check upstairs! A kid lives in this house!"

"It's Halloween. He probably isn't home yet, Sullivan."

I look at my window and contemplate jumping out it, but it would risk Trixie getting hurt and I'm not leaving her here. Please don't come up here. I hold her close to me, running my fingers through her hair in a way that soothes both of us. Her breathing turns harsh. She must sense my turmoil.

"Do you want to take the risk that the kid might be dying in this house?"

Then, I hear the footsteps on the stairs. My mind runs all over the place, trying to figure out a way to escape this hell. I silently pray that they don't come in here. The door is closed and the light is out. Maybe they'll pass right by and figure I'm not here.

Please, don't find us.

I can stand in this spot as long as it takes for them to leave. Hell, maybe they'll clean up the bodies and I won't have to do anything at all. When they leave, we can go to bed and pretend none of this happened. Just don't take Trixie from me.

Fate is stacked against us because the door opens and light floods the room as the cop shines his flashlight in and it settles on me holding Trixie. Within a flash, his gun is drawn and I curl myself around Trixie as she squeals.

"Dame, Dame!" she cries and her words seem to calm the cop because he lowers the gun.

"Damien, is that you? Take off the mask, son."

I'm not his son and I don't want to take off the mask. I feel fine with it on. He walks further into the room with his weapon and flashlight lowered.

"Damien, I need to make sure that's you, okay? Please, take off the mask." I don't want to stop him from taking it off because in order to do that, I'll have to take my hands off of Trixie and she needs me. He grabs the chin of my mask and lifts it over my head before letting out a sigh of relief. "Are you hurt?" he asks and I just hold Trixie tighter and she returns the squeeze. I shake my head though. "Is she hurt?" I repeat the motion. "Let's get the two of you out of here. Something…very bad has happened downstairs so I want you to keep your eyes on me until we get outside. The ambulance should be here soon."

My eyes narrow with confusion. He doesn't know it was me. Why? I'm covered in blood, yet so is Trixie. I'm not going to correct him though. I follow him outside as three police cruisers pull up to the house along with two ambulances. I'm guessing one is for the dead and the other one is for me and Trixie.

Slipping the mask back down my face, I slightly loosen my hold on her and she relaxes, but before we reach the ambulance Detective Sullivan is escorting us to, Trixie is passed out in my arms.

It's way past her bedtime and this has been a really exciting night for her.

As soon as I'm inside the ambulance, the male paramedic tries to take Trixie from me, but with a loud snarl emitted from the mask, he backs away with his hands raised. No one takes her from me, period.

Not unless they want to die.