The window blew open suddenly the glass rattling inside its wooden prison, almost threatening to shatter. Cold wind flew in after it billowing the curtains in a fiery white display.
Rosemarie had already awoken from the crash of the windows but she kept her eyes shut, tightly. She knew that the wind had no part in this little show. He was back. She mashed her eyelids so tightly that she began to see patterns of grey and black flowing past her eyes.
She heard the wind blowing hard groaning as if it were some animal in pain. The room became extremely cold, and Rosemarie began to shiver. She knew without opening her eyes that her breath was freezing as soon as it contacted the air around her.
She hoped he would buy into her facade of sleep, even though her eyes were so tight you could tell they were being forced shut, she still hoped he wouldn’t see that he would just believe her to be asleep and go away.
Her little heart pounded in her chest, it was warning her of his presence even more than her mind was. It was telling her to get up and run now, run to her parents room, run to turn the light on.
But she stayed still hoping that her act would still fool him. It did not.
She could feel his body close to hers almost hovering overtop of her. She smelled his breathe, the putrid smell of alcohol and tobacco. She almost coughed from the smell but kept it inside, her breathing staying normal.
A cold hand brushed over her forehead, pushing her bangs back slowly. The hand slowly pet her head and then moved to her soft cheek caressing it in a lover’s fashion. Rosemarie shivered, not from the cold but from the hand. She knew how far it was willing to go. And it did continue down her neck slowly and so very very cold against her soft skin.
Rosemarie had had enough, before the hand could move any further she screamed and jumped from her bed keeping her eyes shut and grabbing for the light switch. She was feeling blindly all over the wall, afraid to ever open her eyes and view her attacker.
Suddenly she felt arms around her waist, pulling her back, she screamed again grabbing out at anything that might keep her from being pulled back to that bed.
She fell to the floor with a grunt as the wind was knocked out of her. She screamed more as she clawed at the floorboards trying to get leverage against the cold arms pulling her back to the bed.
In the room down the hall Rosemarie’s father awoke with a start. He had been having a terrible dream that his daughter was screaming and being dragged into the depths of hell by many evil hands. He shot up in bed listening, there was complete silence in his still sleepy house.
A quick look at the bedside clock told him it was 3:35. He slipped his legs out from the covers and his feet into the soft slippers that lay beside the bed. Stretching slightly he slowly padded to the door of his room. Glancing over at his wife who lay soundly in her bed he smiled and opened the door slipping out into the hallway.
Again there was complete silence in the house, he could hear some movement in the room next to his, his son, Rick’s room. He peeked in and saw Rick lifeless to the world tangled up in a mess of sheets and top covers. He moved around a lot in his sleep.
He moved on again going towards Rosemarie’s room.
It was than that he noticed the extreme drop in temperature. The house had been kept warm by a glowing fireplace during the fall and winter months which was in the center of the building, and usually kept a very warm to heated temperature throughout all the rooms. And yet this icy cold air was hovering just around Rosemarie’s room.
He grabbed the handle and burst into her room in a panic, the icy air dropped even lower in temperature as he opened the door. Across the room the curtains were violently billowing in the wind and he ran across the room to shut the window quickly, latching it shut.
He spun around and in the darkness he could only make out the small motionless form of his daughter.
“Rosemarie?” he called out, not moving.
She didn’t respond and no movement.
“Rosemarie,” much louder this time.
There was a small amount of movement and a groan.
He moved quickly forward to her bed and onto his knees, his hand seeking out her forehead to feel it.
But as his hand touched her skin she suddenly screamed and began to slap at him, screaming bloody murder.
He tried to hold her close but she screamed louder and slapped harder at him.
Suddenly light flooded the room and he looked up to see his wife with a horrified look on her face standing at the entrance to the room.
Rosemarie backed away into the corner of her bed and curled up in the fetal position shivering. Her face was covered in bruises and red marks, her nose was bloody and her lips had been split.
It was as though someone had repeatedly beat her over and over again.
He looked his wife but she was looking at the claw marks dug into the wooden floor from Rosemarie’s bloody finger tips.
She looked at her husband in rage.
“What have you done?”
Without waiting for an answer she grabbed up Rosemarie and ran out of the room screaming for the police while her father knelt beside her bed shaking his head.