I heard a creak from downstairs, whose steps ended just a few feet from where I was. I stuck my head out and called, "Court," thinking my older brother came home without my realizing it. Silence was my only response. I went back in the bathroom.
After a few moments another creak sounded, this time louder and closer. I recognized the creak now as footsteps on the stairs. I pushed open the bathroom door and saw a man a third of the way up the steps.
The man was grotesquely fat and was making his way slowly up the steps. He didn't speak but only grinned at me. I felt evil radiating from him. My only thought was to get to my dad's room and grab his gun.
I ran passed the top step and around the corner, keeping the railing between him and me. Faster than I would've thought, his hand shot through the railing and grabbed ankle. His iron grip yanking me to the ground.
I woke up in my bed, relieved that it was only a dream but still immersed in the feeling of evil that permeated the dream.
A few days later, I prepare for bed in an empty house. I stand in the bright light of the bathroom, removing my contacts in the mirror. A creak sounds downstairs where there should only be silence. I leave the room to call out to my brother, thinking it's him. Standing at the top of the stairs, the memory of the nightmare washes over me. I retreat back in the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and turning the lock on the knob. I stay there until Court returns home.