The girl pounds as she stares at the seemingly innocuous door. Trembling, she reaches towards the handle and hefts it open. As soon as she steps inside, The air seems to choke her. The heat of it lays heavy on her shoulders, thickly blanketing everything in a haze. The girl’s bare feet prickle as they shuffle across the burning floor. She stands for a moment, straining to make out the darkened figures that lie ahead before carefully reaching along the wall in search of a light switch. She gropes the wall for a moment, then another, fingers grazing the odd divots and patches in the peeling plaster. When her hand finally flips the switch, the girl pulls her hand back as if burned. The light flickers, once, then twice, then three times before turning on.

A sickly yellow light fills the room, barely illuminating the path ahead. As the girl moves reluctantly from the doorway, the door swings shut, closing with a final bang that makes her jump. She carefully squeezes her way through the path, terrified of what lies outside of the poorly-lit path.  She moves her foot carefully to the left and is immediately horrified of her mistake. There’s a clanging sound, and a headboard comes crashing down from the darkness. The metal feels oddly cold in the heat of the room, and it raises every hair on the girl’s body. A rusty set of handcuffs hanging from the frame, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Pushing the headboard back, the girl continues on. Every step towards the flimsiest wall brings an increase in volume. The grating sound of a far-off chainsaw cuts through the silence of the room, masking the hushed sounds of the girl’s frantic breathing.

The next turn is the worst part of the room. As she turns toward the back wall, the girl can’t help but stop to stare into the shadowy mass next to her. Each figure wobbles precariously in the non-existent wind, promising to crush her in their shadowy depths.  Each shadowy tower presents a new danger, whether real or imagined. Could there be someone hiding in the shadows? Maybe an animal found it’s way inside? As the girl rushes hurriedly past, cold bars snatch the edges of her shirt, digging into her sides as if they were fingers frozen stiff by death.

A row of cabinets loom over the rest of the room, their polish glistening dangerously in the sickly light.  The girl studies the cabinets for a moment, searching for the slightest bit of movement. Satisfied that nothing would move, she flips open the lid to the freezer.   Reaching into the freezer, tiny shards of ice cling to the girl’s sweaty hands, providing a soothing contrast to the heated air. The cool feeling provides a feeling of safety and calms the girl’s racing heartbeat. Calming down, the girl turns to make her way back down the path. A creaking sound comes from behind.

The girl whips around towards the cabinets, loose hair falling into her eyes. One of the cabinets has edged open, revealing the endless space inside. A face peeks out from the gap between the door and cabinet. The light overhead is just enough to cast the face in a sickly yellow hue. Shadows seem to elongate the face, transforming it into something inhuman. Behind it, something gleams, and for one terrible moment, the girl is convinced that it is a knife.

She carelessly rushes back down the path, completely ignoring the crashing sounds that follow behind her like footsteps. The shadowy figures of the turn are easily ignored in the face of what lies behind me, but the girl is forced to slow down as she passes the largest obstacle present. What is usually helpful during the day becomes a hindrance as the girl races to freedom. As she squeezes back onto the final path, something beeps.  Once. Twice. Three times, before it speeds up. The frantic beeping mixes with the wailing of the chainsaw outside, drowning out any noise but the frantic thumping of my chest.

As she finally wrenches the door open, the cool air of the laundry room cools her heated cheeks. As she frantically switches the light off, the beeping hits a crescendo before flattening out into one long continuous sound as the door slams shut. The light is bright, but the relief of being out of the dark trumps the burning in the girl’s eyes. Of course, this won’t be the last time the girl makes this terrifying trip. She will make it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that; on and on in the same cycle of fear. Maybe one day the girl will be able to step into the garage without fear, but that day is not today.