Rob sighed, brushing his hand through his hair; he paused to say hi to a couple of people in his chem class who he vaguely knew. He walked out to the parking lot, his mind on his homework. He walked past the varying collection of student cars, affectionately referred to as 'the rust bucket bomber squadron' and to his own, rather beat up red box on wheels. He put the key in, attempting to unlock it, and failing miserably. "Crap!" he yelled, hitting his car with his fist, sending up a spiral of red rust up into the air, stinging his eyes, and making him swear. "Need a hand?" asked a boy with sandy hair falling over his face. "Yeah, ok, can you just hold on to this key? It wont come out" Rob replied. After fiddling with it for a few moments, the lock gave a clunk, and the door of Rob's car swung open. "Hey presto!" exclaimed the sandy haired boy with a grin. "I'm Sam, by the way" he said, offering out his hand. "Rob", Rob replied. "Well seeing as we're introduced, can I have a lift please"? Asked Sam.
"In this"? Rob replied " Yeah sure, if you don't value your life". Sam ran round the side of the car, swinging his backpack, and pulling the passenger door open, with a wrench that made Rob wince, as he saw one of the bolts in the door rattle. They set off out of the car lot, being one of the last ones to leave, the sun already sinking.
He dropped off Sam, and continued to his house. Walking up the drive, he gasped, as he saw the storm door to his house swinging open, the glass of the door shattered. "What?" Rob asked himself. "What could have happened"? He walked up to the front door, his feet crunching on the gravel, a sickly smell reached his nostrils, and he was nearly sick, as a wave of nausea hit him making him stagger back. As he neared the door, he looked in, and to his disgust, he saw a dead beheaded animal lying on the floor, In a pool of it's own blood. Now Rob was sick, and to the full. He lent against the doorframe, before stepping over the carcass to get to the door. He unlocked it, and walked in, puzzling himself about the animal. He and his family had only been here a couple of weeks, and already someone was doing this.
He called up the stairs "Mom, Dad, Will? Anyone here", although he didn't expect anyone to be here, and walked to the kitchen, the smell of the carcass still infesting his nostrils, like a fog, covering everything. Rob went to the kitchen sink, and started to get out the bleach, and a large bin bag. Rob wrinkled up his nose, as the smell seemed to be getting stronger. He whistled softly to himself, and walked to the door, his arms full of cleaning agents. Kneeling down, he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. "Now sir, this won't hurt a bit.. Until I ram it down your throat!" Rob said to himself, half-grinning, half-grimacing, he set to work scrubbing, and cleaning. Two hours later, he was still at it, but neither his parents, (they were at some sort of overnight seminar on child psychology) and his brother Will was home. Will was probably hanging out with his new 'friends', who's greatest pleasure was probably to blow up a public toilet, and run away, which seemed to Rob pretty stupid, as they then bragged about it meaning they stood a good chance of getting arrested. Oh well, Rob thought to himself, its Will's life.
Rob stood up, as he heard someone coming up the gravel path, Their footsteps making a noise on the gravel, Then a crack, when they stood on the glass. "Hello Sam" He called, without looking up from the scrubbing. He had learnt enough from the 15-minute journey in the car with Sam, that he was the most accident-prone person that Rob was likely to meet. Sam had managed to hurt himself in any way possible, even getting his ear caught in Rob's car door, although how he did this, Rob failed to understand, but then some people he supposed, he would never understand.
"Hi Rob" Sam called. "Watcha doing?" "I'm just cleaning, Sam, someone attacked the storm door with the crème de la crème of meat products" Rob replied. "D'you want some?" Rob said picking up a particularly rank piece of meat and half heartedly throwing it at Sam, which suprisingly hit him straight in the stomach, making Sam swear and duck. Sam then picked up a piece of mud lying on the gravel, previously discarded after being stuck to Rob's hubcap, and lobbed it at Rob, as Sam's hair fell over his eyes, making the mud go wildly over Rob's head, and landing with a splat on the wall. This started a furious fight using mud, which Sam lost pathetically, and ran around, muttering, about how he was going to get his super soaker and destroy Rob. Laughing, he left, as he had to go home and have tea.
Rob finished at about 6 in the evening, covered in the blood of whatever the mutilated animal was. He collapsed into bed, exhausted. It had been a crud day, and he was embarrassed to go to bed this early, but he felt shattered.
Rob's alarm clicked over to 12:37, as it illuminated the wall, the red dials cutting through the darkness. Rob woke with a jump, his arms crossing his chest; his fingers embedded in his arms. Rob got up, without turning on the lights, and waked down to the shadows of downstairs, the stairs quietly creaking under the weight of his feet. He walked silently, not noticing as he trod on the tail of the stray cat that had taken up residence in their home, and stalked on top of the kitchen cupboards, occasionally jumping on the heads of passers by, startling them. Rob ignored the cat, as it shot under the hall table, its eyes glowing out into the dark, like hot pieces of coal, its back arched in distaste, Spitting and hissing. Rob continued walking through the darkened house, and reached the front door. He reached out one hand, and grasped the doorknob, the light from the street lamps casting a glow across his face, illuminating him, his face completely expressionless, his lips drawn into a slight smirk, but his eyes gave nothing away. He turned the door handle, it giving a slight squeak, and then the door opened smoothly. He took a step out into the area just in front of the storm door, and, taking off his shirt he stood there, his chest silhouetted in the street light. He sank to his knees, and reached out a hand to the pool of blood on the floor. He dipped two of his fingers in, and he could feel the coolness of it. He lifted his two fingers, now dripping with the animal blood, and put them in his mouth, licking his fingers, tasting the blood of the creature. He dipped his fingers back in the pool of blood, and this time, drew the Wiccan star on the floor, the 5 points stretching across the floor.
Rob got up from the floor, turned on his heel and went back into the hallway; the door clicking shut behind him. His hand on the stair rail, he walked up the stairs, towards the landing, and past the bathroom. He didn't even glance into his brother's room, and walked straight into his bedroom, climbing into bed, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The next morning
Rob opened his eyes, to find sunlight striking his face. Blinking, he sat up in bed, and swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he got up, yawning and stretching and walked downstairs.
Pouring himself some cereal, he sat down with a spoon, and began eating. Halfway through his second bowl, He blinked, coughed, and ran for the bathroom. Running to the toilet, he lent over the rim, and was sick, over and over again, as he realised what happened.