Bad Habits Read Online Free PDF

creepy, musty, cold breeze that would flow toward us when we opened the door. Usually, we would nudge each other and fight over who had to walk down the stairs first. Whoever lost had to hold on to the pee-filled sheets and lead the way in the dark because we could never find the light until we made it into the laundry room.
    One foot would slowly attempt to reach the first stair but wouldn’t quite touch it. It would just linger, as if it were testing the water to see if it was cold. (Except in this case it was testing to see if a demon would grab it.) After a litmus test of thirty seconds passed, my trembling foot would make contact with the first step.
    The haunting Stephen King sound effect that each stair made as we pressed our toes on it did nothing to calm our nerves. Also, JoJo’s nose was chronically clogged as a kid, so it sounded like the Elephant Man was gasping for air beside me as we made our way down to Satan’s basement.
    Once we got to the bottom, JoJo and I would glue our bodies back-to-back as we walked so we could Cagney & Lacey it in case demons popped out of the shadows.
    I know a lot of people have a scent that reminds them of their youth. Mine is urine. To this day, that smell is reminiscent of me and the Elephant Man chasing away demons.
    JoJo and I routinely made our way to the laundry room. Sometimes the washer was full of dirty clothes. JoJo and I tried not to scream as we reluctantly grabbed Mom’s and Dad’s unmentionables and flung them into the dryer. Then we would slump our bodies down and lean against the soothing rhythm of the washer. Sometimes we would pass out sitting up, but we were always awakened by the soft buzz of the washer as it completed its cycle.
    One night JoJo had a bad case of strep throat, but it didn’t stop her from crawling into my bed at night and peeing all over me. So like any good sister, I woke her sick ass up and told her she had to go to the basement with me.
    She was shaking with chills and her face was dripping with beads of sweat. I remember thinking that she looked like she was going to die. Her fever had to be up to 104 or 105.
    I whispered to her in a loving tone, “If you don’t go with me, Satan might come up here and get you when you’re all alone.”
    Her sick eyes cracked open and she uttered a weak “okay,” as she rolled her shivering body off the bed and started to walk with me. Well, I was walking. JoJo was weaving down the hallway like a drunk driver on New Year’s Eve.
    As we made our way to the stairs, her body began trembling more violently. It probably didn’t help that she was wearing pee-soaked PJs. I thought I would warm her up by telling her how hot Hell must be. I talked about people’s skin melting off and fire roaring for all eternity.
    JoJo mumbled an incoherent response. Had I been an adult, I would have realized that this was probably a sign that she was close to death. However, she still managed to walk back-to-back with me until we made it to our usual washer and dryer spot. But then all hell broke loose.
    JoJo mumbled, “Do you see that?” and pointed to a corner with nothing in it.
    I looked back at her face to see if she was messing with me, but she wasn’t.
    She held her hand out like a scary possessed child from The Ring as she continued pointing. She was full-on fucking seeing something in the corner.
    “Is it a spider? A rat?” I was hoping she would say yes.
    But she didn’t. She replied, “That’s him .”
    My heart fell into my uterus. She just said “ him .”
    Who the fuck is him ?
    “JoJo, what are you talking about? Stop scaring me.”
    Then her face started shaking back and forth as if “he” were coming toward her.
    I started screaming at the top of my lungs, which made JoJo scream at the top of her lungs.
    “ We’re gonna die! Help!!! ”
    Above us, I heard what sounded like a herd of elephants stampeding into the basement. My mom and dad found JoJo and me on the ground holding on to each