Jordan pulled the car into the house and walked up the front steps. He paused, hand hovering over the doorknob. Something's wrong. He turned in a slow circle, but their front yard looked the same as always. There was no one outside and yet he had a bad feeling. He pulled out his phone and saw a voice message from Alivia. He listened to it. Normally he would've hung up, not bothering to listen to her ramble. But a gut instinct told him to keep listening. She stopped speaking, crying out. A rustling sound of movement, a low growl. He thought he heard someone else speak but then the line cut out. The voicemail reaching its limit.
He called her back, feeling worry unfurl in his stomach. When she didn't answer on the fifth attempt he yelled a curse and stormed inside. Muriel would know what to do, she always did. He opened his mouth to call for her when he saw the dark trail. In the dimness he couldn't make out what it was. Muriel must've spilled something. Though another part of him insisted it was something more sinister. He stepped over the spaced trails and puddles into the kitchen. Cupboards were thrown open, cups and plates smashed on the floor. The table had been shoved onto it's side. A pile of broken wood and plastic near it that he thought was one of the chairs, maybe more than one. The fridge was open, casting pale light onto the tiles. Showing the liquid as being red.
“Oh god,” he whispered, stepping back, one hand covering his mouth. He body shook as he tried to figure out what to do. Call the police. He walked into the living and saw similar signs of destruction. He gulped, wondering who could've come here. Based on the damage they'd been a struggle. Muriel had been the only one home though. He wanted to yell out her name, but something told him he shouldn't announce his presence. He grabbed the phone to call. The dial tone had just started going when it abruptly stopped. Jordan glanced behind him, confused. The phone cord had been ripped from the socket. He reached to put it back in and pulled back sharply. The wire had been shredded, bare bits of metal showed. He didn't know much about residual electrical energy, but he didn't want to risk it.
He pulled out his mobile, his eyes looking around. The phone had been working before, so who on earth did that? He heard a rustling sound behind him and turned but he couldn't see anything. He found himself wishing Alivia was here. She saw odd things, maybe she'd be able to see what he couldn't. He heard rustling again to his right but he couldn't see anything. His hand was trembling as he pressed in the numbers. He'd punched in two when something knocked the phone from his hand. It sailed against the far wall with a loud crack that told him it was broken.
He clutched his hand to his chest, wincing and saw deep scratch marks that were flowing freely. He cursed and backed up against the wall, feeling his fear engulf him. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he edged out of the room. He needed to leave this house now. The rustling sounds were still going. He swore he heard someone laugh, a cruel, slow sound. He snapped his head in the direction he swore he heard it.
“Who's there?” he asked, though he had no clue what he'd do if someone answered. Or something. He reached the doorway and glanced up the hallway. His eyes passed over the blood, his stomach rolling. Then he looked back. There were footsteps in it. He knew they hadn't been there before. He cried out as pain flared at the back of his head. He stumbled to the floor, one hand reached up and came away damp. His vision was blurring, tears wetting his eyes.
“Humans are so easy to scare,” a voice murmured behind him, amusement marring the persons tone. He turned to glance at its cause, but nothing occupied the space, just like before. He scrambled across the floor, stopping when he felt sticky blood under one hand. He cringed at it and wiped it on his jeans. His other hand stayed on his head, the pain was throbbing stronger now. He could feel his pulse thud loudly, making his fast-forming headache worse.
“Though, you clearly have some ability. Otherwise you'd have passed out already,” it spoke again. This time Jordan could pick up it was a guy. The door flung open behind him with no apparent source. He heard the male voice speak furiously in another language. Then more rustling, though this time he saw half a smashed cup - that must've flung out of the kitchen into the hallway when the house was being destroyed - bend and break under the pressure of something. He felt something brush his back and froze. He couldn't see anything behind him. Was it the wind? Then he heard something, a hushed whisper. He couldn't tell what it was saying but he could feel his eyes slowly shutting. Sleep pulled at him and he slumped down, though he didn't hit the ground. Something soft and warm caught and lifted him. He felt something lightly brush hair behind his ears.
“I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner,” the voice murmured. He recognised it dimly as his eyes fell shut.