It should be safe now, right?

  I thought, glancing at the dark crack underneath the door. The lights were off for a while now—a little under an hour from my counting.

  “Shit,” I hissed through my teeth, “Do I really have to go out there?”

  My room was nearly pitch black. Scarce starlight coming through the glass window did nothing to illuminate my dark room, but it was safer here.

  No.

  I shook my head. If I wanted to get what I wanted and save the others, I needed to leave this place. Right now. It was my only chance. The cruel owners of this house, who imprisoned me here, left a while ago. They shouldn’t be back till much later. It was their usual pattern every Friday night. But they warned me before they left.

  I trembled, recalling the threatening, cold voice of the man, “Leave this room if you dare. You will regret it. I will make sure of it, Dylan. Mark my words.”

  Worse was the sharp, cutting voice of the woman. My heart dropped at her cruelty. “One foot through that door and I will burn them. All of them. Especially Miku.”

  Were they even human? Demons, I tell ya! Demons! The two owners cornered me inside this room, using my sweetheart as a hostage. I needed to save my wife and the others. Now was the time to act.

  I tiptoed over to the door, flinching as the floorboards creaked under my feet. Immediately, I froze, waiting for crazed, rushing stomps towards my door.

  I held my breath as my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Was I going to be caught already? Was she still awake? I waited for what felt like an eternity.

  Nothing.

  “Phew,” I sighed, gushing out all the air I held in my lungs. The lack of an immediate reaction outside my door left me slightly reassured.

  The noise did not alert the owners’ terrifying guard dog, if you can even call it a dog. She, the Banshee, was much worse. I don’t know how, but the Banshee always knew where I was, going off like a siren and alerting the owners. But after long observation, I now knew the Banshee’s patterns. After the owners fed their Banshee, she would fall asleep within an hour.

  It should be just about time.

  I continued, pressing the right side of my head against the wooden door. The coldness from the stiff wood seeped into my ear as I listened for signs of the wicked beast.

  Silence.

  Only the loud beating of my anxious heart thumped in my ear. No sound of the horrid creature. She would screech every time we encountered each other, many times biting and clawing at me. Loyal to the owners, that Banshee was. A formidable foe. She was the one I needed to be wary of.

  But even Banshees needed to sleep. And after her meal, the Banshee should be fast asleep.

  I took a deep breath, whispering some encouragement to myself, “Coast should be clear. I got this.”

  I didn’t have much time. I needed to sneak out quickly but cautiously. Slowly, I turned the metal knob and opened a slither between the door and the frame.

  I peeked out into the darkness with one eye.

  The place looked normal, too normal, a perfect cover-up to hide hostages and a prisoner like me. A rectangular rug lay in the middle of the long hallway, as various picture frames hung along the walls.

  All was quiet. Too quiet.

  I cracked the door open a bit wider.

  “Crap!” I whispered with bulging eyes as the door hinges let out an aching groan.

  Immediately, I glanced across the hallway, heart racing while looking with worry at the door to the Banshee’s room.

  No sound. No door yanking open. Nothing. The Banshee must be asleep.

  Thank God!

  I sighed too much tonight.

  Back flat to the wall, I slowly sidestepped along the side of the hallway. I learned after many times that the floorboards creaked less if one avoided the center. Creeping to the corner of the hall, I turned around to face the wall. Like being in a horror game, my head tilted past the corner to assess what terror lay beyond the edge.

  In the darkness, the outline of stairs connected the second floor to the first floor. The stairs led down to part of the living room. White leather sofas with plush cushions lined the length of the room. A lamp sat on the corner table between the sofas, while house plants cluttered a center coffee table already overflowing with magazines and books.

  I glossed over the living room furniture. My goal was by the front door, or to be more exact, the narrow entryway table a few steps from the house’s entrance. I needed to be fast. My targets were likely on or near the table—keys to free my love and a most precious package critical for escape.

  I clung to the rail along the stairs, keeping my feet light on the steps. I couldn’t risk waking the Banshee. Reaching the last step, I crouched onto all fours, keeping to the foot of the sofa. Like a soldier crawling through the trenches, my elbows scraped the floorboards as I approached a tall four-legged table. Pushing up to standing, I quickly scanned over the contents before me.

  A bouquet of fresh roses placed in a glass vase tickled my nose. Candles, mail, more books, and an awkward set of running shoes sat on the table. The man of the house would be yelled at later, I knew. But where were the keys?

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Ah!” I whispered with glee. “Found you!”

  A bundle of keys belonging to the woman of the house hung on the wall above the table. I yanked them off the hook, stuffing them with a muffled jingle inside my sweater’s pocket. Soon, I would be able to free my wife!

  But I still didn’t see my prize, my escape.

  “Where is it?” I said in a hurry. No time to dawdle. The box should be sizable. I shouldn’t have missed it.

  I looked around the side of the table and towards the door, but couldn’t find it. Where was it?

  Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek from behind me made me nearly jump out of my skin.

  “Yoooouuuuuuuu!!! What are you doing out of your room!?”

  Immediately, I jerked around.

  Shorter than me by a head, the long, messy-haired creature hunched forward, looking ready to pounce at me. She panted, hissing hot air through the long, brown bangs covering her face. Her right hand lifted up, aiming her pointy nails at my throat.

  Taken by surprise, I took a step back. “Shit! It’s the Banshee! You’re supposed to be sleeping!”

  “Banshee?” she said, taking a moment to understand what she was. And then came the shriek, “Baaaansheeee!?!? Me?! Bansheeee?!!”

  The creature lost her mind. Her head lowered, and I saw the whites of her deranged eyes. Madness contorted her scowling face with frightening lines.

  Shaking in fury, she screamed, “I’m going to kill you, Dylan!”

  The Banshee lunged at me, swiping her right hand at my face.

  “Wait!” I shouted, blocking with my left arm before hissing from pain as sharp nails dug into my skin. A flurry of kicks to my shin made me yelp. I squatted down, only able to pull up my arms to guard my face. But the Banshee didn’t let up. A chomp to my hands that covered my head made me cry out.

  “Ahhh! Stop biting! Get off me!”

  “Screw you, shithead! You keep calling me a banshee! I’m not a banshee!”

  “Stop! Stop!”

  “Then take it back!” The Banshee screeched, still relentlessly whamming away at my head.

  “Fine! Fine!” I shouted, “I take it back! I take it back!”

  Suddenly, I heard the knob of the front door rattle and the door swung open. The light switch was swatted on, and the entire room lit up.

  Immediately, the Banshee pushed me and purposely collapsed on the floor. I saw a nasty smirk fading from the corner of her now angelic face. My heart dropped to the deepest pit in my stomach. I now understood that vile creature’s intentions.

  She set me up!

  “What in the world is going on here!?” Blasted the lady of the house. “Angela, Dylan! What is this nonsense?! Explain yourselves immediately!”

  “Mom!” The Banshee faked a tear and cried to her owner. “Dylan pushed me and kept calling me a banshee. I tried to tell him that he shouldn’t go out of his room because he was grounded, but he didn’t care and came downstairs to take the keys to your room. He was going to steal those weird figurines that you took away.”

  “Weird?!” I shouted, completely offended. My waifu was not weird. “And steal?! What’s already mine?! You little-“

  The lady of the house, also my mom, her head snapped so fast and jerked so menacingly at me that for a moment I thought she truly was a demon.

  “Dylan Tarus. EXPLAIN. You better have something good or ELSE. Miku...” My mom was frightening when angered. After mentioning my darling Miku, my mom took her thumb and slid it across her neck.

  I gulped. I was in deep shit. My mother might really burn my waifu! I glared at my banshee-like sister. It was all because of that fake-acting Angela! That damn Banshee! She always tattletales and exaggerates everything, making things worse!

  My head pulled into my shoulders as I peeped, “Mom...” I needed to buy time for a good excuse.

  “Do not ‘mom’ me. I said EXPLAIN.”

  I flinched, bobbing my head. “Yes, m’am.”

  I heard a choked chuckle, trying to be played off as sobbing. Turning to glance behind me, I saw Angela curled with her head down. She struggled hard, about to burst into laughter. I needed to turn this around.

  I snorted, “Don’t listen to her, Mom. Angela made all of that up. You know she’s not really crying. She suddenly screamed at me when I came downstairs to look for my package. But I found something else.”

  Placing my hand into the pocket of my sweater, I gripped the keys with one hand and pointed to the shoes on the table with the other. My mom looked where I directed and gasped as she saw my dad’s muddy running shoes on her precious piece of furniture. In the turmoil, I quickly moved and hung the keys back on the hook, holding on momentarily to keep them from jingling.

  But I winced and pulled back from a shrill scream from my mom. Explains where Angela got that from.

  “Wyler!” My mom shrieked. “WYLER!”

  She jerked left and right with fire blazing in her eyes, scouring for the owner of the muddy running shoes on her expensive table.

  Sorry, Dad. But since you already put me in the dog house, I’m taking you with me.

  “What!?” Panted my dad as he rushed inside the house with grocery bags in both hands. “What is it, honey?!”

  The fiery woman suddenly smiled sweetly at my father. With a voice that made me shiver, my mom jabbed a finger at the shoes. “Babe, Dylan showed me something really funny. Look. Tell me. Whose dirty shoes are those? On my seven thousand dollar table?”

  I knew where this was heading and didn’t want to get further caught in the storm. “Um, okay. Well, since I didn’t find my package, I’ll go back to my room now. Good night, everyone.”

  As I quickly turned around to escape, a staunch grip latched onto my shoulder. “Hold on, Dylan, son-“

  My spine shivered when I heard my father. I was in for some real trouble.

  I turned around and smiled nervously. “Ha, ha. Hi, Dad. Well, bye, Dad.”

  About to run away, my dad tightened his grip around my shoulder. “Not so fast. What’s this your mother was saying about you telling her something really funny? Hmm? How about I tell you something really funny, too?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to, Dad. Ha, ha.”

  “You’ll want to hear it. It’s about a certain package. Addressed to you.”

  I immediately turned around. “Did you receive it, Dad? Where?! Where is it?!”

  My dad gave me a flat smile. “Let’s have a good, long talk about these games you keep buying, okay?”

  “…”

  “Games? Again, Dylan? You’re grounded, remember? No internet.”

  “It doesn't use the internet! It doesn’t even have a port to connect to electricity! I swear!”

  “Hmmm… Well, maybe. It’s odd, that’s for sure.”

  “Dad! You don’t even know what it is!”

  “Ew, another weirdo figurine?”

  “Shut up, Banshee.”

  “Mom!”

  “Dylan. Language.”

  “Hmpf.”

  “Anyway, ahem, babe, my table?”

  I winced as my dad squeezed my shoulder hard. “My sincerest apologies, honey. Dylan and I will clean and fix it right up, won’t we, Dylan?”

  I forced a laugh, “Ha, ha. Of course, Dad. Of course. Don’t worry, Mom.”