𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝟮𝟰𝗧𝗛, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟯 ... 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙.

maverick stirred, his eyes fluttering open in the pitch—black room. it was the kind of stillness that felt out of place, odd, like a thick blanket weighing down on him. normally, the chorus of his bustling house lulled him to sleep: the muffled arguments of his brothers and sisters, his grandfather's gruff exclamations about his misplaced items, the clinking of dishes as his parents' prepped meals — it was chaos, but it was home.

but now, the quiet was disturbing.

he rubbed his eyes and stretched, the leftovers of sleep still clouding his tired mind. blinking away the fog, he turned his head toward the faint glow of his rocket—shaped alarm clock. 11:37 pm. the green numbers glowed dimly in the darkness. strange, he thought. he wasn't the type to wake up in the middle of the night.

throwing back his sheets, maverick swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet landing in the softness of his rug. he wriggled his toes, savouring its warmth, before standing. he glanced over at the other bed in the room — his brother's bed — it was empty, the covers strewn haphazardly across the mattress.

maverick frowned.

he tiptoed to the door, his movement quiet despite not knowing why. his hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment before he twisted it slowly and pulled the door open.

the hallway was bathed in darkness, except for the faint moonlight seeping in through the window at the far end. the corridor felt alien. the floorboards wailed under his weight as he stepped out from his room.

❝ guys? ❞ he whispered, but got no reply.

usually, someone would be awake. his grandfather, maybe, fumbling his way to the bathroom, or his dad sneaking a midnight snack. but tonight, the house just seemed lifeless.

maverick moved cautiously towards the staircase, his hand trailing along the wooden railing. he reached the top and hesitate, peering into the shadowy void of the first floor below him. the air felt cold, as if the heating hadn't been on for months, or something was leeching the warmth from the space. maverick shuddered.

❝ dad? ❞ he tried again, a little louder this time.

a faint sound broke the silent — an odd, dragging noise coming from downstairs. maverick froze, his heart thrumming in his chest. it was a subtle sound, almost indistinguishable, but it was there. a scrape, followed by a soft thud.

he squinted into the darkness. his legs felt like jelly, yet rooted at the same time. maybe it's just dad, he told himself, though that thought did little to calm him.

gathering his courage, maverick descended the stairs, slowly. the house felt wrong. his bare feet landed softly on each step, the odd creak and groan coming from under his toes as he stepped down. his fingers brushed against the wood as he travelled down.

reaching the bottom, he glanced to his left. the glow of a light blinked from the kitchen, its source the open fridge door. the pale blue hue splashed shadows on the walls.

curiosity or habit — he wasn't sure which — drew him towards the kitchen. the cold tiles sent a chill up his legs as he padded in. the refrigerator hummed a soft song, it door wide open, revealing a half—empty jug of orange juice and leftovers stacked lazily on the shelves. maverick pushed the door closed with a heave, and a soft click.

his eyes drifted to the back garden, visible through the glass pane in the kitchen door. it looked serene in the light of the moon: the lawn, while messy, sat dewy and dreamy, edged with the weathered wooden fence that had mismatched colours streaked across the slabs, and the faint outline of his mother's flower beds frame the edges. it seemed so peaceful, so tranquil.

maverick turned away and made his way to the living room. the space was dark, cloaked in shadows, except for a dim glow of light from the television screen as it blinked black and white, and buzzed softly with static. its pale light flickered. the furniture in the room was a clear sign the family was rich: but not with money, just wealthy with love. a sagging couch with worn cushions sat in the middle of the room, its fabric patched with a mixture of odd patterned slabs of cloth, proving time had taken its toll: mismatched chairs, one of them his grandfathers old favourite with a loose armrest: and a coffee table covered in clutter.

the clutter was a portrait of their life together. stacks of magazines and unopened mail lined precariously next to and on top of one another. a plastic bowl sat alone, still holding the remains of someone's late—night snack.

toys were scattered across the rug, one of his younger siblings' stuffed animals slumped against the leg of a chair. maverick's eyes shifted to the mantle above the fireplace, settling on the family photos that sat atop it, dust blanketing their tops after months of neglect, but they all held wonderful memories: first walks, trips out as a family, and pets who've been and gone.

the static of the tv whispered faintly.

❝ mom? ❞ maverick called out hesitantly, his voice swallowed by the room, and drowned out slightly by the crackle and pop of the technology that lit the room.

he got no answer.

❝ dad? ❞ he tried yet again. 

then he heard it. a wet, squelching noise that made his stomach tighten. it came from the corner of tue room, near his father's armchair — the large one that always commanded the best view of the tv. the flickering light from the television cast of a soft glow across the figure sitting in the chair. its outline was familiar — broad shoulders, but with a hunched posture. his father. a sense of relieve mingled in maverick's belly.

❝ dad? ❞ he choked out, ❝ what are you doing? you scared me, ❞

his father didn't respond. he remained slumped to the left, his head angled unnaturally. something draped over his lap — a mass that maverick couldn't make out in the faint light.

frowning, he took a step closer. ❝ dad, wake up, ❞ he urged softly.

the damp noise returned, quieter this time. maverick was close enough to see the glint of his fathers beard in the shifting glow of the television's light. the way his father slouched wasn't right. it wasn't the relaxed slump of someone who'd dozed off mid—movie.

maverick reached for the lamp on the small table next to the armchair. his hand trembled as his fingers soon found the switch. he hesitated for a moment, before he flicked it on.

the room flooded with yellow light, banishing the dark and revealing the horror before him.

his father sat in the chair, body askew, his eyes glazed over as he stared blankly. his mouth hung open, and his beard was matted with dark, viscous blood. and his father's body wasn't alone.

draped across his lap was his younger sister, her small frame moving and jerking in such an odd way. her tiny hands were stained crimson, trembling as they clawed into their father's open abdomen. strings of glistening flesh and viscera stretched from his body to her mouth as she tore them free and stuffed them between her teeth. she chewed, blood dribbling from her lips and down her chin, painting her face with gruesome red streaks.

maverick gagged, and bile travelled up his throat. he slapped his hand over his mouth, choking back the scream that was clawing its way out.

he stumbled forward, ❝ sissy? ❞ he whispered hoarsely as he reached out towards her. she stopped mid—chew and turned slowly. the light from the lamp illuminated her face, causing the sickly grime to shine bright. her eyes were clouded, reflecting no recognition of the one who stood before her.

a low groan dribbled from her lips. she stepped toward maverick, and he staggered back, his foot catching on the edge of the coffee table. he fell hard, the breath in his lungs leaving his body in a rush as his back hit the floor.

warmth spread under him, soaking into his shirt and pants. he glanced down and realised, with a fresh wave of sickness, he had settled into a pool of blood. his eyes darted around the room, his stomach groaning as he pushed himself to his feet.

maverick gasped. bis brothers and sisters sat around the room, slumped over in postures of lifelessness. yet each of them twitched, hands moving mechanically, mouths working as if chewing on invisible meals. his grandfather was by the window, his head tilted against the glass, a dark streak of blood marking where his face had slid downward. his mother lay across the arm of the couch, her hand dangling toward the floor, her fingers twitching spasmodically.

they were all lifeless: like his sister. every single one of them had gone.

his sister's grumbling snapped him back into danger. she crawled towards him, her bloodied hands clawing at the ground as she dragged herself forward.

❝ no... ❞ maverick whimpered. he slipped once, his blood—soaked feed sliding in the slick of the floor. his vision quickly blurred from tears as he darted toward the living room doorway.

he burst into the hallway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. the front stood ahead, safety just a few steps away. he lunged for the handle, twisting it desperately.
but it didn't budge.

❝ no! let me out! ❞ cried the boy. he fumbled with the handle, twisting it left and right, forgetting in his panic that it had been locked for the night. he dropped to his knees, patting frantically at the doormat until he found the key. his hands shook violently as he shoved it into the lock. it slipped once, twice, before finally sliding in place. he turned it, the click of the lock releasing like a gunshot.

the door swung open and the cool night air rushed over him sharply against his tear—streaked face. he stumbled onto the front porch, his bare feet slapping the cold wood as he bolted into the yard.