Lady Macbeth: A Narrative Fiction

I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me, locking it and pulling open the top drawer of the vanity so that it was blocking the door. I threw a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter. I can’t believe Amy fell for that again! She’s always got her nose stuck in her books. Maybe if she actually went outside for once and stopped being such a loser than she would have the dexterity to not fall for my trick. I get a great deal of joy from provoking my sister and seeing her squirm, like a snake cornering a mouse. I mean, really, I tell her all the time that reading those dumb horror books aren’t going to get her anywhere, but she’s annoyingly persistent. I placed Amy’s book down on the back of the toilet and leaned against the door. I jolted slightly
Let me in. Please, Those faces. They’re not...aagh.” Her voice falters as she leans heavily against the door and jostles the handle. I can hear her gasp and sputter as if water is filling up her lungs.
“Very dramatic, Lady Macbeth,” I reply. There’s a few more moments of coughing and her weakened voice finds its way through the door.
“Lucas, can’t you smell it?” She chokes out her words, like it's the last ones she’ll ever say. Yeah, right. She’s a good actor, but I’m not as dumb as a post. I grin and flush the toilet.
“Now I can’t,” I snickered. Then it’s silent again, but it’s unnerving and apprehension hangs heavy in the air. Almost of out of thin air, there’s a dreary, raspy voice on the other side. There’s no emotion or tone to it, like it’s something unhuman.
“Come with us, we need you. We need your being,” it hisses. I can’t help but feel chills run down my spine. The sound felt like long, jagged nails dragging across the back of your neck. I know it can’t it be real, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the least bit bloodcurdling. I hear Amy, or what I hope is Amy, scratching fervently at the door, like she’s trapped in a cage of lions and trying to
What are you doing out there? Demolition derby?” There’s no response other than faint sobs.
“Police, oh, police. Please, hurry.” Amy’s voice quivers with distress. For a few more seconds, nothing else is heard but her soft whimpers and the metronome-like thudding of something banging against a wall. The sheer sound of that thudding alone made me want to rip the door open. It was the way it was so constant, like a ticking clock counting down the seconds until....no, I didn’t want to think about that. It was just a joke, right? She was fine. Amy’s agonizing moans that followed promptly after that thought told me otherwise.
“Lucas, break the window. Get out. For pity’s sake, don’t come out here,” she groaned. Silence. I expected something else, some wail of pain, another warning, just something to let me know that her heart was still beating on the other side of the door. It was absurd, in a way, that this single panel of wood was all that stood between me and Amy, yet, it was like an impenetrable wall, as if the entire universe’s force was concentrating on keeping me within this room, or, you know, it could also be the mind-numbing terror that gnawed away at my insides; take your