Cindy

Cindy

James heard a knock on the door. The clock told him it was 5:30, about the time his girlfriend, Briana, usually came home from work. She wouldn't knock, though. He walked toward the door, thinking it was some kind of solicitor. "We're not interested," he began as he opened the door. Before him stood a little girl who looked to be no more than six years old. Her long blonde hair was greasy and stringy. She wore a thin, stained t-shirt and dark leggings. Her feet were bare. Her hair covered her face, but James guessed it was probably as dirty as the rest of her.

"What are you doing out here in the cold?" he asked, his warm breath drifting from his mouth like fog.

She didn't say anything as she stood there clutching her arms and shivering.

"You must be so cold. "

She nodded slightly. "Can I come in?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course," James said, as he stepped aside.

The girl walked into the living room and sat in the chair by the door.

"What's your name?"

"Cindy. "

"Where did you come from, Cindy? Do you need me to call your mom and dad?"

The girl didn't answer. She only shivered, still keeping her head down.

James walked toward the kitchen, "I'm going to make you some hot cocoa. That'll make you feel better. Then, maybe you'll be a little more talkative.

After James got to the kitchen, he took a mug from the cabinet and filled it with milk. He then ripped open a pouch of instant cocoa mix and stirred it in. As he watched the mug spin on the microwave's turntable, he thought about Cindy. Where did she come from? Where are her parents? Why would they let her out like that?

The microwave beeped. He opened the door and took out the mug, then walked back to the living room, blowing gently on the cocoa to cool it. "It's ready.

He stopped in front of the chair and offered the cup to the girl. "Be careful, it's hot."

"Thank you," Cindy replied. She looked up. Her face was ghostly white and smudged with grime. Her eyes were completely black.

He gasped and dropped the mug. It shattered on the wood floor, sending hot cocoa and ceramic shards flying. The steaming liquid soaked through his pants and shoes. "Shit," he hissed. He looked at his visitor. She had red blisters on her face from the drink and scratches from the shards. Don't worry," she said calmly. "I'm okay." A wide smile spread across her face. She reached out for James, her black eyes staring into his.

He had the feeling that bad things would happen if she touched him, but he was paralyzed. His chest tightened, and it became hard to breathe. A cold sensation washed over him that penetrated to his very bones. What is she? Cindy leapt toward him. Her gaze broke away from James long enough for him to be able to move again. He yelped and ran down the hallway to the bedroom he shared with Briana. Bare feet padded on the floor behind him. He slammed the door and locked it, pushing a dresser in front of it for good measure. With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed.

"Nine-one-one. Do you need police, ambulance, or fire?" a dispatcher asked calmly. There was some static in the line, making her voice crackle.

"Uh, police I guess," he said. Cindy had reached the bedroom and was banging on the door.

"What's.. .ter?" the dispatcher asked. Something interfered with the connection.

"This girl is in my house. She has black eyes. I think she wants to hurt me.

The dispatcher's response was garbled. "Hello? Can you hear me?" There was more static on the other end of the line. The pounding on the door intensified. She must be slamming herself against it.

Please!" James shouted into the phone. "I need help!" There wasn't a reply for a few moments. "Why do you need help? I only want to play with you," Cindy said through the phone.

Just then, the door flew open a crack, knocking into the dresser. One of Cindy's pale hands shot through the gap in the door. It waved around, searching the air.

James's heart skipped a beat, and he rushed into the adjacent bathroom. He locked the door, but he knew the lock was flimsy. The sturdiest thing he could use to block the door was a half-empty laundry hamper. His eyes darted around the bathroom, settling on the linen closet. Maybe it'll buy me some time. He ran inside and crouched on the floor, pushing aside rolls of toilet paper and ducking under shelves of towels.

James tried to dial 911 again. This time, the call didn't go through at all. Instead, a female voice told him the number was no longer in service. Instead of the normal, pre-recorded voice, it was Cindy.

"Oh God," he whispered. The bathroom door crashed open. She's in. How is she that strong? She's just a little girl. An image of Briana flashed through his head. She'll be here anytime, he thought. I need to warn her. He got out his phone and started texting. "Don't come home. Not safe. Can't call cops. Girl in house. Creepy. I'm hiding in linen closet. She's in bathroom. If anything happens I Io" Just as he was about to finish the message, the closet door flew open. Cindy stood before him. "I found you." She reached out and grabbed his arm. Her touch was so cold it burned. The feeling swept through him, and soon he didn't feel anything.