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“Shane, I seriously don’t think this is a good idea.”
Of course, she doesn’t. Crimson never does anything remotely fun, as far as I know; instead choosing to stay in her room and read, read, and read some more. My twin and I are as close as can be, mostly agreeing on the same topics and discussions, but there are just some areas where we just could not get along with each other.
Take tonight, for example. We’re in the living room, our parents out of town for a few days before Halloween, leaving us with the house and a babysitter who chose to go clubbing a few hours ago instead of taking care of us.
Crimson and I had planned a little game to play, the only problem is she had no idea what the game was until I presented the items needed; An old teddy bear, rice, red string and a needle. The sight of the objects sent a great deal of terror to flash on her expression, being the superstitious thing that she is.
Now, don’t take this the wrong way. I myself am superstitious and familiar with the risks of playing an extremely dangerous game such as Hide-And-Seek By Yourself. Being raised in a religious country as we are, Crimson and I share our anxiety over the paranormal and supernatural.
Unlike my twin, however, these strange things interest me rather than scare me away. Every dangerous game had to be experienced at least once and fortunately for me, none of the games’ rumored effects were true. Usually, though, it gets me in trouble with our mother, either for being stupid enough to not only believe but also attempt the games I did, or for staying up until 5 AM with a lit candle and cluttering the floors with salt and candle wax.
“Y'know if you don’t wanna do this, then all you gotta do is back out,” I tell my twin with a smug smile. I knew she would back out of this one real quick. I set to work on preparing the stuffed animal on the floor, cutting its belly open with a pair of scissors. "No one’s forcin’ ya, sis.”
Crimson crossed her arms as she let out an annoyed huff. “I just think it's–”
“Real stupid, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before. You didn’t seem to argue when we played Spirit of the Glass last Halloween.”
“Exactly why I never wanna play these games with you anymore! You’re messing with serious things when you’re playing these games, Shane! Ghosts, demons, monsters, heck you’ve even played games to summon…y'know…”
I roll my eyes and let that slide. Crimson has a really hard time saying the evil ’S’ word aloud, like the ground under her feet would swallow her whole if she did. I don’t tease her for it, after all I was the same a few months after I broke away from religion. Crimson, however, didn’t do the same and stayed with Catholicism.
Turning back to my task at hand, I answer, “Well, last time I checked, I still got a pulse–” I reach a hand up to press two fingers against the pulse point in my jugular to prove my point. “Yep. Still alive, alright. Seriously, Crim, I’m fine. These games, that’s just what they are; games that some bored people conjured up to scare themselves and a few friends for fun.”
She still doesn’t look convinced, which is to be expected. My sister is the biggest skeptic I know whenever it comes to the paranormal, especially after I lied to her so many times about ghosts and monsters when we were younger. Boy who cried wolf, or however that old adage goes.
Crimson adjusts her sitting position on the couch, leaning slightly forward with her elbows on her knees, so she could better see what I’m doing. As I sit on the carpeted floor, I take out handfuls of stuffing from the bear, which was a quick task because of the bear’s small size, and replace it with rice as I look back up at my sister.
“Listen, if you don’t wanna do this with me, y'may wanna pack an overnight bag and head over to a friend’s house,” I explain. “‘Cause there can’t be two people in the house when there’s only one recognized participant.”
I could see the gears turning in my twin’s head, could figuratively see her consider each possible scenario and all those scenarios’ outcomes. She’s cautious like that and because of her over-analysis of things, she got me out of some really bad situations. Reluctantly, she nods her head. “Okay, I’m in. How do I get recognized as a participant, then?”
I hold up the needle between a thumb and a forefinger, and I could practically feel the panic seeping out of her pores. Or maybe it's from my own skin.
Now blood is a fear we handle differently, but are still scared of it nonetheless. Crimson hates seeing blood in any form, looking away whenever she and I would get our blood drawn out to use as samples for our yearly medical exams in school. She gets freaked out by it, never wants to see the liquid of her namesake. Double irony, along with the fact that the substance she fears the most is flowing right through her every second.
Being a film and theatre gore junkie I don't really mind blood, so long as I know that it's fake. Whether it be gelatin-based, some SFX-type mixture or even just ketchup, I'm fine with seeing blood on TV and performances. However, actual blood from actual living creatures freaks me out. When Crimson tries to keep a semblance of composure with tightly-closed eyes, I scream and punch and kick as if my life depends on it. In my mind, I always think it does, and I respond the same way every single time I encounter the vital substance.
"No," Crimson shakes her head, a look of pure horror and pleading on her face. "No, Shane. There is no way you're getting my blood. I won't let you."
"Can you just calm down for a second and let me explain?" I ask as I lower the needle to try and settle Crimson's anxiety. She takes a few deeps breaths to even out her breathing, and it's only then I continue.
"'M not telling you to give me a fucking blood bag, sis. Just a tiny 'boop'–" I quickly pierce the flesh of my forefinger and wait until a tiny red bead oozes from the puncture before I drip it onto the mound of rice inside the bear. "–And that's it. Nothin' you can't handle, trust me."
She raises an eyebrow at that. "And I should trust you why?"
I have to hand her the figurative 'Sass of the Day' trophy for that one. "Touché, sister of mine, but you gotta do it. Otherwise...well, bad things'll happen."
"What kind of bad things?" Curious little beastie, isn't she? One of the things that makes her smart, I guess.
"It varies depending on what website you read or who you ask. But almost all of them say the same thing. We wouldn't wanna be caught. And if an unrecognized participant gets caught, it'll just be shit hitting the fan at that point."
After a few more minutes of explaining and arguing about the logic and rules of the game, she finally agrees and offers her left index finger, albeit shakingly. I take hold of the finger between my thumb, my forefinger and my middle finger to attempt to still it. The shaking eases up some, enough so I could better get a smaller pinprick, and I quickly pressed the prior-cleaned needle to the flesh of the appendage.
I retrieve the teddy bear from where it's smushed between my hip and the floor, and tell Crimson to drip it onto the rice. She obeys the instruction and soon the crimson bullet joins the gory mixture.
Using the same needle and a length of red string, I stitch the bear back up with its new innards and use the remaining thread to wrap around the entirety of the bear. I snip off the excess string, tie the ends off and push myself up to stand.
"C'mon, we gotta do the rest upstairs."
"It needs a name," I point out as I skim through the instructions for the game I saved on my phone. We already set up our hiding place (a hidden compartment in our kitchen island big and deep enough for both of us) and we just finished filling up the tub with water to drop the bear in. Everything else; the cups of salt water, the sharp object, the static channel on the T.V., everything was set.
"Well?"
Crimson gives me a scrutinizing glare, which I deserve for my suggestion of her giving the teddy bear a name. "You are growing up to be a crazy guy, Shane, and I don't think our parents are gonna be able to afford medication for you."
"Oh, c'mon, you don't mean that."
"'Course I don't," Though she says it quickly, like she couldn't wait to change the subject. "Anyway, you think of a name for it. It's your bear."
"Uh, actually...–"
A pause in the room and even though I'm not looking directly at her, I feel Crimson's furious glare making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Tell me you didn't." Yep, that tone signifies my death. Forget about playing the damn game. My sister's anger could butcher me in a fraction of a second, and that excludes the ear-shattering shriek that's soon to follow. When I don't confirm nor deny her suspicion, I hear her inhale through her mouth and I immediately cover it before she could wail out her frustration.
"Look, I promise I'll buy you an even better one," I offer, hoping she'll take it. Hell, fine, I'll shell out a few hundred pesos for a damn bear. A lot cheaper than the fees needed for surgery. "Just do me a solid and let me use this teddy bear. Please."
She whacks my hand away and studies my face, trying to find any flaw or the tiniest shred of insincerity in my proposition. She clicks her tongue and throws her hands up in the air in defeat when she finds none. "Ugh, fine! Use the damn bear but only if you promise to give it back once you're done with it. And be sure it's demon-free before you give it back."
"Uh..." Shit. I'm so dead. So very, very dead. "I may or may not need to burn this here bear after the game so–" I stop her before she could open her mouth to react. "I'll buy you a bear and you don't have to get me a gift on our birthday. Sound good?"
Crimson takes a moment to think about it, her brow furrowed in annoyance rather than consideration. "Fine," She answers. "I swear to god, it's not fair. I'm the younger twin here, I'm the one who should be getting away with everything."
"Stop being a brat and help me think of a name already. We have ten minutes 'till three AM and I wanna be done before six."
"Why three AM?"
I shrug while scrolling through my phone, double checking the instructions to see if we missed anything. "Don't really know why 'cept for three being like the Devil's Hour or something. Makes it easier to summon something, I guess, but a name, Crimson. I still need a name."
Crimson glances at the stuffed animal in the sink, looking as if she regrets letting her favorite toy be used in such a way. "I named her Chin-Chin."
"Why Chin-Chin?" I ask, a smart remark already on the tip of my tongue.
"Does it matter? You said you had to name the thing. I gave you a name."
"Alright, alright. Chin-Chin it is."
And with that, I scoop the toy up from the sink and hold it out for Crimson to grip one of its limbs. We're ready to begin.
"Shane and Crimson are the first It." I repeat the sentence three times, Crimson and I dropping the plaything into the water-filled tub. Afterwards, we turn off the lights in the bathroom and run out and scatter to turn the lights off in the entirety of the house, meeting in the kitchen once we finish our tasks. I push the false side of the kitchen counter, the door popping open to reveal our hiding place. I let Crimson in first before crawling after her and closing the door. We begin our count to ten, my twin gripping my left wrist as we did so.
After the count I take our sharp object - a Swiss army knife for this purpose - and we exit our hiding spot to run back to the bathroom, flicking the switch back on. Crimson picks up the sopping wet teddy bear and I say the next line along with her.
"We've found you, Chin-Chin." I hand the army knife over to her, which she uses to cut the thread binding the doll and stab it a few times. She quickly looks at me and I nod to tell her to proceed and I chant along with her once more. "Now you're the next It, Chin-Chin." She then drops the bear as well as the knife into the water, I turn off the light as she did so and we hurriedly leave the room once again to go back to our hiding place.
Now the real game begins.
Half an hour into the game, nothing happens. Crimson and I patiently and quietly wait in the slightly cramped space, the compartment giving us only two feet of space between each other, our shoulders bumping against each other with every breath we take. Our cups of salt water in the small channel between us and our mother's rosary tightly in my sister's right hand.
Before I start to think the game is a total bust -like every other game similar to this- Crimson and I hear the undeniable sound of the T.V. switching channels, as well as what sounded like metal lightly tracing against wood. I reach a hand to cover my twin's mouth, knowing her tendency to scream whenever scared, and softly shush her. I listen to more and more sounds coming from the other room, the tracing sound becoming unbearable scraping, this time metal against metal. All the while, the T.V. rapidly switching between channels the words of the programs being cut off and a chilling message was pieced together:
"Where– Are– You?"
Crimson takes the wrist of the hand covering her mouth with shaking hands. I can feel her struggling to keep herself from making any type of noise as our malevolent playmate goes around the house, knocking over stuff as it goes.
I notice that when it seems to be that Chin-Chin is out of the living room, the T.V. returns to its static channel. Only when the bear sounds like it's in that room does the television switch between channels. Every trip to the living room produces more horrific messages from the television, each more bloodcurdling than the last.
"Such– A lovely– family –you have."
"I wonder– Where– They are."
"You– Are– Both– Such– Sweet– Children."
"How– I would– Love to– Take you– With me."
I feel moisture running down the back of my hand. I look over to my sister. She's crying, terrified by the events so far. My heart wrenches at the sight. I put her through this. If I'd just listened to her, we wouldn't have been in this mess.
I remove my hand from her mouth to wipe her tears away, wordlessly reassuring her that I'd keep her safe. If she believes that promise, she doesn't show it but she reaches both her hands up to stop any sounds that threaten to give away our position.
"Crimson– Is– Such a– Smart girl."
My blood runs cold after that message and judging by how tightly my sister's grasping her jaw, I assume the same is for her.
"How could you– let it go– this far?"
Tears start to prick at the corners of my twin's eyes again and I reach over to pull her in for a hug, and I cover her ears as I do so though I doubt it's effective in blocking the the messages.
I'm forced to listen as the next one is apparently for me:
"Do you– Really– Think you could– protect her? After all– You are the– One– Who– Dragged her– Into– This– Game."
Now it's my turn to shut my eyes. I try to block out the accusations, to convince myself that Crimson and I are gonna walk out of this unscathed, but how can I? How can I convince myself that my sister and I are gonna be okay when there's a very real danger outside? A creature out for blood, our blood, is only a room away from us and we can't do anything to protect ourselves.
The best we can do is hide, keep quiet and hope it doesn't find us.
I open my eyes to look at my watch. A quarter 'till 4 AM. There's no way we can survive this before the bear finds us. There's just no way.
Even if we wanted to end the game, we can't do so while Chin-Chin is just a room away. We can't just crawl out of our hiding spot and hope it doesn't hear us.
The T.V. goes back to static and I'm about to take a breath of relief when I hear a pot hitting tile just outside our safe space. Crimson quietly shifts back away from the compartment door and I scoot after her, to put as much space between us and the door in case the worst possible scenario happens.
I can't hear any footsteps outside, which just makes me even more terrified. The silence is unbearable. The only thing I can hear is the thudding of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears.
Hopefully, though, it isn't loud enough for our seeker to hear.
I almost let out a yelp as the scraping sound from earlier returns, this time metal against wood right against my ear where I'm leaning my head against. Chin-Chin is tracing around the kitchen island, extremely close to the false side where the hidden door is.
Crimson shifts again, this time wriggling out of the embrace, to grab our cups of salt water. She takes a big sip, filling her mouth until her cheeks swell with the treated liquid.
I follow her lead, extending my arm to take my own cup where it's closer to the door and halfway drain the cup. A wave of saltiness almost makes me gag but I manage to hold it in.
The scraping reaches the door and my breathing shallows, reducing to uneven suctions for air through my nose. Surely, the religious items dangling from the door will protect us, right? An additional barrier between us and the evil entity outside.
That moment is when I realize the full extent of my mistake, of my desire to search for things beyong my existence. Now I'm about to pay the price for my morbid curiosity and what's worse is that Crimson would pay the toll with me, when she's never done anything wrong but play along with my stupid games.
I want to laugh. The hopelessness of the situation seems humorous to me for some reason. After everything Crimson has done for me; Keeping me out of trouble, taking the blame when I fuck up, defending me from the repercussions of my stupidity, this is how I repay her? Putting her in a situation where she is forced to stare at death right in the eyes and hope to whatever deity is listening that she'll be given a pardon?
I've known for the 17 years we've been on this earth so far that I'm the bad twin, that I'm always gonna be the twin that contradicts everything instructed of me, but I've always believed that I'm not as bad as our family members make me out to be. But this...
This proves that everyone is right. I'm willing to risk my life and the life of my family, all for the selfish excuse of wanting adventure in my youth.
I seemed to have zoned out because Crimson shakes me back to reality. The tracing outside had stopped and the noises had moved to the second floor. Man, how long was I wallowing in my guilt?
Crimson points to the door then above her head, signaling that she wants to end the game. I couldn't have agreed with her more. But before I could move to exit the compartment, she takes my hand in both of hers and places an object in my palm before folding my fingers closed into a fist. She lets go of my hand and I immediately open it to see our mother's rosary in my palm.
I settle the cup of water down to free my other hand and use it to wrap the necklace around my hand, the crucifix resting on the knuckle of my middle finger. Taking the cup back into my hand, I crawl back towards the door, Crimson closely behind me, and I soundlessly push the door open.
No sign of Chin-Chin anywhere. I exit the hiding spot and wait until Crimson is ready before we head upstairs.
We pass the living room, the space absolutely trashed and the T.V. shattered though it's still displaying the static channel it was originally set to. Family pictures were thrown on the floor, glass acting like landmines, and the trophy case hanging at the foot of the stairs was knocked off its hooks. Trophies, plaques and medals glinting in the dark, eerie and somehow emanating a feeling of danger.
We trudge ahead up the stairs, taking careful steps up as to nor alert our playmate of our presence. If it knew we were looking for it, it would just run off, making it difficult to find it.
Crimson gripped the hem of my sweatshirt, which serves as a safety net for her and a reassurance of her presence for me. If we were to get separated whilst in the middle of ending the game, we would have no chance of escaping as we are already so far from our hiding spot.
I hear the sounds coming from the room two doors down the hall. My room. I reach a hand back and almost instantly, Crimson takes it in a crushing grip. The reassurance that she's still there overpowers the pain that should have been there. She has the opportunity to run out the front door and leave me here to atone for my mistakes alone but no. She's still there, ready to face whatever horror I got us into.
As we get near the door to my room, noises of heavy breathing and growling become clearer, it's as if there's a grizzly bear on the other side of the door waiting for us. With a trembling hand, I grip the doorknob and take a deep breath before turning it. The animalistic noises stop and the sound of metal and plastic dropping on wood clatter from inside.
I reluctantly pushed the door open, Crimson flicking on the light for me, and look around the messy room. I close the door to prevent our playmate from escaping and it's only then does Crimson let go of her hold on my wrist. We scour the place, looking under the bed, in the closet, even checking in the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry basket in the corner. The latter task is one I had to take considering Crimson's avoidance of my dirty clothing.
Five minutes pass before Crimson finally taps my shoulder and tweezes up the toy between her index finger and thumb, holding it up with a rosary-bound hand. I straighten up from looking under the bed and take the stuffed animal from her, spitting out the saltwater on the item and Crimson doing the same as well. We then pour the remaining water from our cups onto the bear as stated in the instructions.
"We win! We win! We win!" We chant with genuine joy and relief. It's finally over. We made it, we finished it. I had the urge to just drop onto my bed and call it a night but there's still something left to do.
"I got some matches from the kitchen." Crimson hands me the matchbox as I finish arranging the twigs for the fire. The early morning is bitterly cold, Philippine mornings always are especially nearing 5 AM.
I take the box and take two matches, striking both before throwing them to the pile of sticks. Crimson's brought three old newspapers to use for kindling and she rips out one page, rolls it up and shove it between two twigs to help the fire along. Soon, the flames are enough to warm up our chilly bodies and we use that moment to warm ourselves for a while.
She then picks up Chin-Chin, the teddy bear still slightly damp from the ending of our game, and stares at its button eyes with hesitance. I place a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.
"We need to do this, Crim," I remind her, and it didn't seem to help. "I'll buy you a better one, okay? One that's not possessed by some ghost." That last part was meant to lighten the mood, hoping that Crimson would smile or laugh but she did neither.
She just nods her head, looking mournful. I let her have her moment, knowing full well how long Crimson has had the stuffed animal. Given to her when we were just at the age of two by our favorite grandmother who'd passed away just a year ago, Chin-Chin was Crimson's best companion during our childhood and though she'd moved pass the age of tea parties and playing pretend, she still kept the bear as a remembrance of our dear grandmother.
In hindsight, I should have known better than to use Chin-Chin as a prop for this ritual. Yet another mistake I should have paid for during the game.
A quiet sob and a hiccup bring me back to the current moment and I look over to see Crimson tightly holding the bear against her chest in an embrace, her mouth buried on top of its plush head and her shoulders move with every choked sob and shuddering breath. She eventually pulls her face away from the bear.
"You want me to do it or...?" I let the question linger. On one hand, it's better if she's the one to throw her beloved toy into the fire but on the other, I don't want her to feel as if she's letting go of something more than just her bear. Because it's more than just letting go of a childhood toy, it's letting go of a friend, a companion...
And the memory of a dearly-loved family member.
Crimson despondently shakes her head and pulls back from the embrace, looks at the bear one last time before stepping closer to the fire. With a heavy-heart she throws the stuffed toy into the flames, the fire quickly engulfing the entirety of the item.
I sling an arm around my sister, Crimson accepting the invitation and comes closer for a hug. She grasps the material of my sweater once more, soaking the soft wool with her tears, as I rub soothing circles on her back.
"I miss her too, sis," I confess, words laced with my own grief. "But she's still with us, isn't that what mom and dad tell us? That as long as we remember grandma, she'll be with us for as long as we live?"
She responds with a sniffle, to which I reply with "C'mon, let's go back inside. We have a mess to clean up."
We go back inside the house and immediately wish we didn't.
There, the middle of the living room, is the dead body of our babysitter lying face up in a pool of her own blood. A familiar-looking Swiss Army knife sticking out from her stomach, her throat split open to reveal the gruesome inside, her mouth hangs open in a silent scream and her eyes, my god her eyes. Where her eyes should have been are nothing more than gaping bloody holes, stuffed in the ocular cavities are rosaries of different colors. Rosaries, I realized, we used to protect our hiding spot.
Behind me, Crimson lets out a series of horrified screams. I hear her drop to her knees, murmuring "This is impossible. This isn't happening. We've beat the game. How could this happen?" under her breath. I stand frozen to the spot, taking in the full consequence of my selfishness. This...This is all my fault. I wanted a little fun, a tiny scare, and this is the result.
An innocent life ended because of me.
On the wall is a message written in the gory red liquid. My own blood runs cold as my eyes scan the words over and over again, words that I'll remember for the rest of my days:
DO YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?