It had been a week since the crash and clouds still blanketed the sky; they hadn’t had one sunny day since then. The memory of it was still fresh in Chris's mind and seemed to stick in there like gum stuck the pavement. Laying in bed, during the early hours of the morning, he stared up at the ceiling, blinking. Each time he closed his eyes he remembered the battered face, the expression of pure terror, the block ooze seeping from it like an overflowing pot, and the gaping black hole in the woman's chest. He lost track of time doing this, seeing if any other image could come to mind, but none ever did. 

  Chris looked around his room, the walls were mostly blank with the exception being the one to his right, which was neatly decorated by vinyl records that mostly consist of 90s rock bands such as Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Green day, Weezer, and many more well known bands from that time.

  To his left, was a desk with an alarm clock on it. It was 7:43 a.m. Friday October 19^th, 2010. The Hamlin County fair was that day, though he had no plans on going. Chris didn’t like crowded spaces; he didn't even like the crowds at his hockey games, he'd wish everyone would disappear so he could play in peace.

   Usually, Chris would’ve been out of bed by now, showered and making breakfast. However, he hadn’t been getting much sleep. His body felt as heavy as a boulder or like a battery that had been drained of its energy, he wasn’t quite sure which. Still, he wasn’t proud that he had wasted so much time just lying there, and he knew that if he hadn’t gotten up soon, he would have lose his chance to shower before school. A loud groan escaped his mouth as he sluggishly pulled himself off the bed.

  He grabbed his towel and whatever clothes were laying in his laundry hamper. Everything was neatly folded, which was strange as he had no memory of folding them; last thing he remembered was throwing everything in the dryer and laying down. If it wasn’t him who folded them, then it had to have been Evelyn.
  

  On his way out, Chris looked at the slightly tattered, tan, brown leather jacket hanging in his closet. It used to belong to his father, who passed away of cancer when he was eight. It was his father who enrolled him into hockey and introduced him to a lot of the bands who’s records now hung on his wall. However, nothing brought memories of dad back to life like that musty old jacket; it became Chris's lucky jacket, something he’d wear on special occasions and only on special occasions.

  Just outside his room, was the hallway. To his left, was the living room; their house had no second floor, only the main floor and an overly cluttered basement. To his right was Liah and Evelyn’s bedrooms, with the bathroom at the end of the hall past them. The door was slightly open, light peaking out in a faint beam of light. There was a eerie feel to it as the hallway light hadn’t been working for little of a week and it was the only source of natural light; Evelyn was supposed call someone for repairs but for obvious reasons, she had not.

  Chris barely got 3 steps into the bathroom before his foot got caught on something and he fell forward, almost hitting his head off the bathtub. He looked to see what it was he tripped on, it was Liah’s towel. Of course it was hers. She was horrible about hanging it up properly, so it would always fall and stay there until either he or Evelyn picked it up; if he wasn’t stuck in his own head he would have noticed it.

  Chris flung the towel to the side with his foot and hopped in the shower. Not long into it, he noticed his vanilla and rose scented shampoo was gone, and immediately knew it was the same person responsible for him almost cracking his skull moments before. It wasn’t even the fact that she used his shampoo that annoyed him so much, it was that she didn’t even bother to ask or consider making sure there was any left. Yet, there was nothing he could do about it now.

Chris took a look out the window, located opposite of the sink. Across him was the Martin family, he could see into the Mr. and Ms. Martin bedroom from his view. He typically did well not to stare inside out of politeness, but he had noticed one of them staring at him this time; thing is, it was neither of the owners. They were hooded and their face was hard to make out in any great detail. Was it one of the Martin kids messing with him? He squinted his eyes, then stared in disbelief. Black ooze leaked from the hooded figures lips, just like the women on the road. They devilishly grinned from ear to ear, face contorted like some clay stop motion character rather than a human.

  He wasn’t sure if it was real, or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him; no way was it the Martin kids playing a trick, not unless they could read his thoughts, which to him somehow seemed worse. Chris tightly shut his eyes and counted to three, the whole time seeing the face of the women in his mind, and all the details that came with it. When he opened them, the hooded figure was gone. Maybe it was in his head? Maybe the Martins window was open the whole time?..... But what if it wasn't? He slid the window open and leaned out of it to see if he could spot anyone, but there was no one there. Deciding it was a sleep deprived hallucination, he closed the window and headed towards the kitchen.