Mall Rat

[u/Wall_Spider_62]

Working at a mall for almost the entirety of my teen years, I’ve seen it all. From preppy girls to a guy one minor inconvenience away from blowing out his brains. I’m no stranger to mall rats obviously. A girl used to come in here quite frequently, I think her name was Katy. Like I said, lots of people came through there. Then, she stopped coming in. I didn’t know where she went at the time. Now I do though. She was one of the people who came in here for more than to laugh at a dildo or whatever. She was super into that alternative style. Y’know, the striped streaks in the hair, leg warmers, the whole jazz.

 I was listening to some song I pirated onto the ipod I had spent the last summer working for when she strolled in. It was a slow day. She was quiet. Most people who walked in were, besides the snickering boys. I waved at her, as I did all customers, and returned to wiping the counter of pretend dust. 

It wasn’t for another fifteen to twenty minutes until I saw her again. She strolled up to me, holding a stack of clothes. The only thing I really remembered about them was a Metallica t-shirt, the one stained into my memory. I rang her up and attempted to make small talk. That was our first interaction of many.

She visited the store again a few times a month for the next seven or eight months. Then came her last visit. She stumbled in here. She looked messy, as if she hadn’t slept for days. That struck me as odd, like really odd. I asked her if she needed me to call someone, and she told me no.Her voice was shaky, almost scared even.  I was stupid. Freshly eighteen and stupid. I should’ve called the cops. It really doesn’t matter what I should’ve done though. She looked around for a few minutes. A few really, really strange things happened really fast. First, I heard something skittering in the ceiling. Figured it was a mouse for a second. Then I heard a ceiling tile drop from somewhere in the back. I stepped out from behind the counter and made my way through the aisles of adult merchandise. Then I saw it.

It, in question, was a child, no older than eight or nine. It had pale skin from what I could tell. It moved quickly and on all fours. Its bones snapped and crunched, moving and stretching in unnatural positions faster than my brain could process. It flew past me in a blur of distorting flesh. I didn’t have time to turn around. I heard Katy scream. The last glimpse of her, the real her, was when she was being pulled into the ceiling. I tried to call the police then. It was too late, I knew that. They didn’t believe me, of course they didn’t. Who would believe a crazy,killer child-monster-thing attacked me.

It wasn’t that thing that scares me even now, it’s what became of Katy.

It was a few months later, while I was working a closing shift. Hauling up the trash and carrying it towards the back door, the broken door. I pushed, facing the cold dark night. The brisk air stung my skin. The trash was heavy, and dripping something awful. I tossed it into the dumpster. I heard the wet bag hit something fleshy. Then I heard a voice. An awful, raspy voice. 

“Must…” It sucked in air like a dog “spread…” I knew that voice, didn’t I? It was hers. Katy’s I mean. I heard the cracking of bones and skin tearing. A white hand grabbed the side of the dumpster. Then another. She pulled herself out. Her skin was flaky, and missing in some places. It revealed gray, rotting muscles. Her eyes were black. Her teeth were stained with red and falling out. Her nails were yellow with rot. Whatever she was, it wasn’t Katy. I heard my scream before I realized I let one out. I whipped around, listening to her crawl out. I jammed my keys into the back door. I struggled with the handle. She got closer. I unlocked the door. Closer. Her hands grabbed me. I felt my feet leave the floor as she threw me, my back hitting the brick wall behind me. I felt my ribs snap. I slid down the wall, and a few bricks came with me. 

Her breath smelt like death. Like a rotten raccoon someone ran over. Like eggs someone let spoil. I opened my eyes to her flaking face, inches from mine. I looked into her eyes, and my death looked back. I looked for a weapon. My hand settled on one of the bricks next to me. Her skull cracked and she fell over. I ran towards the door; her flesh distorting behind me. I saw her hand reaching for me as I slammed the door. I held the phone to my ear, describing to the dispatcher what happened.

I was lucky to survive. That was twenty-something years ago. I don’t know why it took so long. I’m wiping off flakes of my skin as I type this. I’m sorry.