The darkness doesn't respond to his cries. It only listens. And for a moment, it may have even laughed.
Ryven cautiously walks up his driveway, the porch light turning on as he approaches.
He tries to peek through the window, yet the blinds are down, blocking his view.
Taking a deep breath, he grabs the door handle. It opens with a small creek as he peeks inside.
It's dark. The lights are off.
"Hello? Anybody home?" He asks, not really expecting an answer.
Shuffling inside, the first thing he does is turning on the lights.
'It seems just like how we left it before going to that New Year's Eve party.'
Ryven's footsteps echo softly across the wooden floor as he moves through the house, each creak of the boards making him flinch.
He moves from room to room, peering first into the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Nothing seemed off. It was perfectly clean and everything seemed exactly where it was supposed to be.
Heading upstairs, he checks his own room first. There, plastic plates and bottles covered his computer desk while dirty laundry littered the floor.
"Seems just how I left it." He muttered.
Now gliding toward Sylven's room, he takes a small peek inside. Seeing no one there, he barges in, inspecting the room.
It seemed flawless like always. Everything was neatly organized, her jewelry, makeup, clothing. Hell, even her bed was properly made.
Seeing no fault in her room, he quickly left, deciding to go drift to his parents room next.
Flicking on the light. The space was pristine, almost unnervingly so. Not a wrinkle disturbed the bedsheets, not a speck of dust clung to the dresser. It looked just as perfect as Sylven's room. If anything, it was a bit unnerving.
"She always did take after mom." He muttered, his voice low, running his hands along his father's desk.
For a moment, the silence pressed down harder than the darkness outside. He could make out the faint hum of the ceiling fan above, low and steady, but not the sound of his own breathing. No inhale, no exhale, nothing. It was unsettling, like the world itself was picking and choosing what he was allowed to notice, letting certain sounds bleed through while smothering others into nothingness.
Crash
The sound of shattering glass broke through the silence. The sound was sharp, violent, and echoed throughout the whole house.
Ryven locked up, his heart beginning to beat faster, and faster, his pulse surging hot in his veins. The noise however didn't come from this room, but somewhere below-downstairs.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and edged toward the door. From the hallway, he strained to listen. That's when he heard it: faint, drifting upward from below.
Laughter.
The familiar laughter of his family seemed absolutely… terrifying.
Walking through the hall, his eyes were glued to the staircase, a sense of dread forming up inside of him.
Grabbing the handle, he takes one step after another, creeping his way down the stairs, an occasional creak releasing from the floor boards.
Following the sound of voices, he peaks his head into the kitchen, seeing a horrifying sight.
"Sylven?"
The raven haired girl who was kneeling on the floor, cleaning up a broken glass. Turning her head, Sylven's face quickly lights up, a little too bright if you ask her brother.
"Ryven!" She chirped, her smile stretched wide across her face. "Mom was just about to call you!" She said excitedly. "Dinner's ready, go sit at the table with mom and dad!" She said excitedly.
Her voice carried a bit too much… excitement. It felt so wrong. Ryven slowly backs away from the kitchen without saying a word, instead moving to the dining room.
"Mom… Dad." He said, entering.
"Hey honey, how are you doing?" His mother asked.
"F-fine." Ryven responded, moving to his seat at the table.
His father sat at the head of the table, reading the newspaper as his mother was setting the table.
"Today we're eating tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." Sylven says eagerly, entering the room with a pot in hand.
Ryven's father pours the soup first, adding a sandwich to his plate.
"This looks great honey." He said with a smile. A wide smile. An unnatural smile.
Ryven watched the scene unfold, knowing damn well that these people were definitely not his family.
His mother and sister poured next before it was finally his own turn.
He grabbed the ladle, dipping it into the soup and pouring it into his bowl. Unlike the people, soup seemed normal. He couldn't tell whether it was cold nor hot, but it definitely looked like tomato soup.
The room filled with casual chatter as everyone began chatting about their "day."
"Work was depressing as always." My father stated. "There was another dreamer fight in the middle of the city. 2 people died and many were injured." He said tiredly.
My mother listened to him with a saddened expression on her face. "What benefits could dreamers possibly have in fighting each other?" She asked.
My father shrugs and releases a large sigh.
"You know how those freaks are. Sometimes, their actions are just unjustifiable."
His mother adjusted the napkin neatly across her lap before speaking.
"Well, I spent most of the morning cleaning the house," she said, her voice calm
"Every corner, every surface, wiped until it was spotless. A home must always be kept… presentable." She gave him a smile, sharp around the edges. "I even polished the silverware. You'll notice it gleams tonight, Ryven."
Ryven glances down at the utensils present on the table. They didn't gleam. They looked both dull and ordinary, yet her eyes gleamed at them as if she saw them blazing with light.
"After that, I cooked, and cooked, and cooked." She let out a small laugh, brittle and forced. "Because that's what I do. I take care of the house. I take care of my family. Isn't that right?"
She turned toward him expectantly, the weight of her stare like a knife to his throat.
Her smile was horrifying. So many white teeth.
Ryven looked around the table at his father and sister who stared at him expectantly.
"Y-yes mother." He responded, forcing out a small nod.
The table went silent, everyone was staring at him.
All he could do was look down at his bowl, dipping his sandwich in the soup before taking a bite.
'Ugh,' he gags.
'There's no flavor.'
'School was fun today." Sylven said, breaking the silence.
"We learned about Anatomy." Her grin widened as she tilted her head back. "Did you know the human mouth has thirty-two teeth? But it doesn't have to stop there."
She opened her smile just a little wider, her lips straining. Ryven's chest tightened as he noticed more than the usual rows of white.
'1, 2, 3 rows of white on the roof of her mouth.'
"I thought I could do with a few more," Sylven added sweetly, as though she'd just asked for seconds of dessert.
His father chuckled at her words, though the sound was low and strange, like air leaking from a broken pipe. His mother reached out and gently patted Sylven's hand.
"That's wonderful, dear. I'm glad that your learning so much!"
His mother's smile begins to widen as she turns back towards Ryven.
"What about you? Did you learn anything new today?" She asked.
Ryven sighs, holding his head in his hands.
"Is this what hell is like?"