Behind Closed Doors

Behind Closed Doors is a scary creepypasta story with a shocking ending. See if you can guess what the twist is before you get to the end of the story. Leave a comment and let us know at what point you figured it out.

Behind Closed Doors

I was adopted. I never knew my real mother; rather, I knew her at one time but I left her side when I was too little to be able to remember. I loved my adopted family though. They were so kind to me. I ate well, I lived in a warm and comfortable house, and I got to stay up pretty late.

Let me tell you about my family. First, there’s my mother, Janice. I never called her Mom or anything like that. She didn’t mind at all though. I don’t think she even noticed. She was a very kind and affectionate woman. Sometimes I would lie my head in her lap as we watched television and she would stroke the back of my neck with her fingers.

Second, there’s my father. His real name was Richard, but he never really liked me much so I began to refer to him as Dad in a desperate attempt to gain his affection. It didn’t work. I think that no matter what I called him, he would never love me as much as his own child. That’s understandable so I really didn’t press the matter. The most notable attribute of Dad was his unmoving sternness. He was not afraid to pop his children when they did something wrong. He didn’t hesitate to spank me. Well, I’m in line and it’s because of his methods.

Lastly, is my sister. Little Emily was really young when I was adopted, so we were about the same age, but she was slightly older. I liked to think of her as my little sister, though. We got along better than any siblings could possibly get along. We would always stay up late together and just talk. Well, she did a lot of the talking; I mostly just listened because I loved her. It was a great setup that we had! We were short on bedrooms, so and I didn’t want to sleep in the living room by myself. She let me sleep on the floor, next to her bed. This is where I have slept ever since. I enjoyed being close to her and I have always felt very protective of my little sister.

One horrible Wednesday night, everything changed. I was at home taking a nap when little Emily opened the front door. The sound of the door opening woke me from my slumber and I walked down the hall to the living room. That’s when I first remembered it was Wednesday. I was never any good at keeping track of what day it was. Actually I’ll just go ahead and say it: My sense of time was HORRIBLE! But nevertheless, I knew it was Wednesday because Emily had just come home from her Church’s youth group gathering. She walked in the front door and hugged me, and then was followed in by Dad and Janice.

“Did you have a good nap?” Janice asked as she ruffled my hair. I just shook my head away and snorted.

“Don’t you snort at your mother like that!” said my father gruffly. He shut the door behind him and hung up his coat. Emily went upstairs to her bedroom and I followed. She started telling me about her day. You know… usual teenage girl stuff. But I listened so that she would feel better. After her summary she suggested watching TV and I obliged and jumped onto the couch as she was going for the remote. She rolled her eyes at my little-brother-like immaturity and scooted me over and sat down. The TV turned on and we watched it together until the sun went down. Emily was the kind of girl that- instead of watching cartoons and soap operas- would rather watch Discovery and Animal Planet and Natural Geographic. I like those too so I didn’t mind. Actually, those were the only channels that can hold my attention.

It got late and Janice walked up behind the sofa. “Emily it’s past your bedtime. Turn off the television and go to your room. You too.” she pointed at me. Emily turned off the program we were watching grudgingly and stood up. She started down the hallway to our room. As I followed I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

We went into our room and Emily turned off the light. Just as she did, I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. It was outside the window, but as soon as I looked back again, whatever it was that I thought I saw was gone. I still remained alert, for my sister’s sake.

I laid there in the darkness with nothing but the thin ray of light from the street lamp outside to illuminate the room. It wasn’t much. Time and time again I could have sworn that I heard subtle sounds just outside the window… a twig breaking, leaves crunching, clothes rustling, and all the while I could smell a faint stench of sweat and blood. I kept my eyes open most of the night.

The sounds outside subsided and the smell left my nose. I began to feel at ease and my eyelids gradually closed.

Not long after that, I heard a very loud crash on the other side of the house. I was up in an instant. “THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE!” I barked with extreme adrenaline coursing through me. “Wake up!” I shrilly pleaded with Emily. She did, and as soon as I saw her sit up I ran to my parent’s room…

Dad was dead. His neck was sliced open and blood spilled out of the gaping wound, forming a puddle on the floor. I saw that the bathroom door was closed and standing in front of it was a strange man.

He was very large and rugged. He turned around and saw me and that’s when I saw his face for the first time. I will never forget it. His eyes were small, beady, cold and twisted with evil intent. His beard was unkempt, his clothes were dirty and his face was smeared with blood. Just then, I noticed the same horrid smell of sweat and blood from earlier, but this time it was overwhelming.

He saw me and grinned, displaying a set of crooked yellow teeth. That smile threw me off. I thought that I was about to die, but then he turned back to the bathroom door completely unperturbed by my presence. I was terrified and didn’t no what to do. I just yelled and cried. I watched as he shouldered through door that was Mom’s only protection. I watched as he raised the large razor that he was carrying. I watched as he sliced her open and tore her to shreds…

I then heard something; the last thing that I wanted to hear… It was Emily’s scream coming from behind me. The large man stared at my little sister, then stood up and quickly started walking toward us. My sister turned and ran. He rushed past me and went straight after her. Why was she still in the house? Why didn’t she get away? Now she was as good as dead and I was the only one who could save her.

I ran after them. I expected the man to kill her as he had the rest of my family, but I was sadly mistaken. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her through the house… I was making as much noise as I could now, hoping and praying that someone would come to my aid. He caught Emily and plced his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.

As he passed me I backed up against the wall and whimpered with terror, “Why?”

He gave another crooked grin and a very cold, unnatural laugh and said, “Keep quiet. There’s a good boy.”

I followed him helplessly as he dragged my sister to the front door. He opened it, pulled her outside and immediately slammed it shut behind him.

I am now sitting in the house with the dead bodies of my adopted parents, shivering and whimpering with dismay. He’s somewhere out there with Emily, doing who-knows-what to her and there’s nothing I can do to save her. I would if I could, but I can’t. I would chase after them in a heartbeat, but I can’t. I sit here, looking at the front door. I look down at my paws. If only I could open doors…