The Split

~

Micah looks outside his window silently, chewing on his bottom lip, a bad habit he could never get out of.

His brother, James, was talking in the background, but he could barely hear his words. He was too focused on what was hanging around outside his window.

“Micah? Are you even paying attention?” James whines.

Micah sighs, tearing his eyes away from the presence to his little brother, who proudly smiled at getting his attention, and continuing on whatever he was talking about. But the presence outside the window kept pulling him back towards it, despite his brother’s whining.

“Micahhhhhh.”

“James, not now.”

James huffs. “You say that everytime.”

But even though he argues, he leaves Micah alone.

Finally. Peace and quiet.

“Hey Micah.” The presence says outside his window, but it was clear as day inside his head.

With a small smile, he waves at the little figure standing outside his window, looking up at him with a smile. “Hey Ericka.”

~

“I thought he would never leave.” Ericka says once Micah was outside.

“You know, brothers.” He rolls his eyes, but smiles through it.

“Yeah.” Ericka laughs softly, but seems pained.

“Wanna play?” Micah asks, already thinking of a bunch of games to start with.

“I actually already had one in mind.”

“Oh?” Micah raises his eyebrows, excited.

“Yeah, follow me.”

But once he realized where she was headed, he had to stop following.

“What is it?” She asks behind her shoulder, realizing he’s no longer with her.

“Dad says we can’t go back there.”

Ericka rolls her eyes. “It’s fine Micah. There’s nothing bad back here.”

But Micah only stays silent, eyes locked on the gravestone settling right before the woods. His mom’s grave. The point that we can’t step over. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Dad says so.”

Ericka pouts, but Micah stays firm in his spot. “Oh, fine. But if I win three games out of four, you’re going with me for my game. Deal?” She puts her hand out towards the space between them, seems so far away.

Micah tears his eyes away from his mom’s grave, his heart down to his toes. With a shuddering hand, he takes her hand in his. They shake.

“It’s a deal. Alright then. What’s your first game in mind?”

~

He doesn’t know how she did it, but she won.

Every game, including the fourth. Usually he wins all the games. But not today. It’s like her game was waiting for him, taking control over his mind, over his surroundings.

“Micah! Dad said dinner’s ready!” James yells across the yard from the front porch.

“Okay!” He yells back, hearing the front door slam shut.

“Meet me at our spot at midnight?”

“Why so late?”

Ericka only smiles slyly. “It’s the beginning of my game.”

~

As midnight rolls around, Micah’s heart was pounding out of his chest, trying not to breathe as loud as his heart was pounding.

He could get caught, get grounded, get whooped. Worse: Could get the same way as mom. With a shake of his head, he traces the steps that he always takes to meet with Ericka. Under a dark oak tree, Ericka was waiting for him, wearing a dark, black hoodie.

“Here.” She hands him a similar hoodie.

“What’s this for?”

“So they can’t see who we are.” And as she says this, she’s pulling the hoodie over her head, but it doesn’t stop. It goes all the way over her face, space only to show her green eyes.

Micah does the same, heart still pounding wildly, wondering why he’s doing this.

“Are you ready for my game?” Ericka asks with a lilt in her voice.

Micah could only muster a nod.

~

“Close your eyes.”

Micah does, too scared to go against what she says. Because it’s always been that way. Whatever Ericka says, asks, commands, you must do it, or bad things happen. Like mom.

No. This is just a game.

“Take my hand.”

He reaches his hand out in the darkness to find her icy cold fingers. He intertwines them with his warm ones.

“Now don’t say a word.” She whispers this last part, pulling him towards wherever the game begins. Maybe it already had.

He lets his feet take control of where to go as she pulls him on and on, to who God knows what. He didn’t dare open his eyes, or sneak a peek, for she was always watching to see if he’ll cheat, slip up.

“Step lightly now.” She says so softly, his body started shivering.

She leads him up creaky stairs, and he tenses when they creak the slightest.

“We’re almost there.” She whispers, continuing to pull him forward, starting to hurt him.

“Ericka, I don’t think-.”

“We had a deal.”

That shuts him up.

What had he gotten himself into?

~

“Here.”

Before he felt it, he knew what it is. The sharp end of the knife touched his now cold fingers as she traced it along his knuckles, like she does everytime. This was her game? The same game everytime she wanted to play?

He sighs, taking the knife by it’s handle, holding it the way she taught him.

“Your target is a few inches away.” She pulls him forward, once again, towards the victim of her game.

Who can it be this time? The simple mail man? The dog next door? The tree she hates so much for some reason?

He only sighs again, and without opening his eyes, he feels for the victim. It was a person. He wonders…

No. I mustn’t open my eyes. Not until after my strike.

With a steady hand, no longer shaking, as if a spell was cast on him, he travels his hand lightly to where the heart was. The heart was beating strong, powerful, against his small hand.

“Do it Micah.”

Without a second thought of what he’s going to do, what he’s been doing since he met her, he raises the knife up. And he plunges it deep into the victim’s heart.

~

“Micah, you may open your eyes now.”

He opens his eyes slowly.

No.

His hand was still wrapped around the knife’s handle.

Oh, please, no.

He couldn’t take his hand away, just like with mom.

No, please, please, no.

He was shaking, convulsing, but couldn’t let the handle go, as though it was a part of him. Maybe it always was. It always seems to be.

Please…

He looks into the victim’s face, tears sprawling down his face.

Why did she make me do this?

He tried to hold in the sobs, but couldn’t. He could barely hold back the scream.

And so he didn’t.

~

They say that Micah’s mother died from getting stabbed by a tree branch that wasn’t chopped off fully when she was climbing the oak tree whenever James was a few months old, Micah still growing up.

Her funeral was short, abrupt. Nobody came, because there was no point to. They all knew the truth of what happened.

Everybody but Micah.

But now, they say that James died by running around with a knife, deep into his imagination that he always had, when he tripped, fell, right on the knife. But, sadly. Nobody believed it. They all knew what happened.

Everybody but Micah.

~

As the sobs raked his body out of control, his dad puts his hand on his shoulder firmly.

“Son. I thought we agreed the first time was just a simple mistake.”

“But it was Dad! It was a mistake! I didn’t do it!”

“Son...Quit lying to me.”

“I’m not! It was-.” But Ericka’s name made him choke on his sobs, and he knew he could never tell the real truth. Nobody would believe him. Nobody ever will.

Because Ericka’s dead too.

As though she knew she was being thought of, Micah sees her through his blurry tears. He glares at her with so much hatred, but he knew that she was a part of him now. Has been since his mom’s death, now James’s…

“Be ready for the next game Micah. It’ll be soon.” Her voice says through his mind, whispering like the wind itself.

And even though his dad was getting onto him, threatening him, shaking him furiously through his own tears, he could only smile.

~

End

~