by Amy Cross
I roll onto my back and let out a series of pained gasps, while trying once more to get my breath back.
Dear God, please help me.
I'll be good for the rest of my life, but please don't let me die here.
After a moment I roll back onto my side before starting to get to my feet. I have to steady myself against a table, but finally I'm on my feet again. The front door is wide open, allowing a cold late-night breeze to blow into the house, but I can just about make out the forest in the distance. I start stumbling forward, determined to get out of the house, but then suddenly I hear a bumping sound outside and I slump against the wall just as I spot a figure out on the porch.
I immediately freeze.
It's Becky.
She's bent over, caught in the act of dragging a bloodied body away from the house.
“Freddie?” I whisper, horrified as I see the corpse's wide-open, dead eyes. There's blood all over his face, and a chunk of flesh has been ripped away from the side of his neck. “Freddie, no...”
I stumble back, before tripping and landing hard at the bottom of the main staircase.
Becky's standing completely still out there, staring straight at me.
“This is a joke,” I stammer, as I feel a rush of panic rising through my chest. “This isn't real. It's all a joke and -”
Suddenly Becky lets go of Freddie's arms, letting his body slam down against the porch's wooden boards.
Straightening up, she stares at me for a moment before reaching down and picking up the bloodied wrench.
“I killed him earlier,” she says calmly, “while you and the girl were still inside. Now I'm going to put him with the others. You'll go there soon, too. It's where I put them all.”
“You're insane,” I whisper, wincing as I haul myself a little further up the stairs. I need to get out of the house, but I don't dare go anywhere near the front door while Becky's on the porch. “You're really sick,” I add, with tears streaming down my face. “There's something really wrong with you! Please, you have to try to see what you're doing!”
“I just -”
“Help!” I scream, hoping against hope that somebody might be close enough to the house to hear me. “Help me! Please! Help!”
“That won't do anything,” Becky says, still sounding so calm. “I screamed all those years ago, and nobody came to save me.”
“Help!” I cry out, until my throat feels ragged. “Somebody -”
Suddenly Becky takes a step into the house, and I immediately pull back and inch a little further up the stairs.
“Don't come near me!” I scream.
“Or what?”
“Or I swear I'll make you pay!”
“None of this would have happened,” she continues, “if you hadn't watched the tape. I would have let all three of you go, but you stood right there and watched it! I was with you, you know. You couldn't see me, but I was standing right behind you.” There's a hint of anger in her voice now. “I watched you watch it, and now you have to pay the price.”
She raises her right hand, and the wrench glints in the light from the nearby lamp.
“No!” I yell, turning and crawling up the stairs as fast as I can manage. I don't even know what I'll do when I get to the top, but I have to keep away from Becky. Finally reaching the top step, I drag myself over onto the wooden floor before turning and looking back down.
Becky is slowly walking up after me.
“Don't come any closer!” I snarl. “I'm warning you!”
Even as those words leave my lips, I know how impotent I must sound.
Taking another step closer, she raises the wrench again.
Figuring that I have to get into one of the rooms, I stumble to my feet and hurry toward the nearest open door. I can barely walk straight and broken bones are grinding in my leg, but somehow I manage to stay upright and finally I throw myself through the doorway and land hard on the wooden floor. Turning, I kick the door shut, but I can already hear Becky coming after me.
Looking around, I realize I'm back in the room with the video equipment. I left the tape running, and there are cries coming from the monitor, but right now I have to find a way to keep Becky away from me. Grabbing a chair, I push it against the door and try to prop it under the handle, but suddenly the door bursts open and I'm sent falling back down to the floor.
Wincing, I try to sit up, but Becky is already in the doorway and she's holding the wrench up as if she's ready to strike again.
“Please,” I sob, holding my trembling hands over my face, even though I know they'll offer no real protection, “don't do this. I don't want to die.”
“I can't fight her,” Becky whimpers, with tears streaming down her face. “Tim, she's inside me...”
Realizing that the real Becky is trying to break through, I lower my hands a little.
“I can't stop her!” she gasps, and now I'm shocked to see that the veins on the sides of her neck are pulsing. Her face is turning red, as if she's struggling to breathe. “She won't let go!” she gasps finally. “She's in control and she's going to make me do these awful things.”
“Becky...”
“I didn't beat you!” she shouts. “That was her! Molly Holt was in my head! She was controlling me! I could feel everything she did, but I couldn't stop her! Please, you have to believe me!”
“I believe you,” I stammer, “but -”
“She's coming back!” she snarls. “She wants to take control again, and I'm not strong enough to stop her. I...”
Her voice trails off, and she raises the wrench a little higher, as if she's getting ready to bring it crashing down against me one more time.
“Please, Becky,” I gasp, “whatever's happening to you, you have to fight it! It's not real!”
“She's in my head!” she yells.
“No! It's all you, and you can fight it!”
“She's in me!” she gasps, and now a vein on her forehead is throbbing as her face gets redder and redder. “I'm trying to keep her out, but she's crawling back into my mind! She wants me to finish this! It's our punishment for watching the video. She killed Freddie, she's going to kill you, and then she'll kill me!”
“She's not real!” I shout. “She's not here! You're imagining the whole thing!”
“Don't tell me she's not real! I can feel her coming back into me, but I won't let her!” She hesitates for a moment, as if she's holding her breath. “I won't!” she blurts out desperately, as if she's talking to somebody only she can hear. “I refuse to let you in again! I won't hurt him! We made him watch! He didn't do anything to hurt you!”
“Becky -”
“I won't do it!” she screams. “Get out of my head!”
“Becky! You're insane!”
Suddenly she raises the wrench, and then I watch in horror as she slams one end against her forehead. The metal rips through her skin, and I hear a sickening crunching sound as she pulls the wrench away and then hits herself again and again, each time smashing further through her skull until a rush of blood flows from the wound and gushes down her face.
She drops to her knees and lets out a faint gasp. The front of her forehead has cracked open now, along with the area around her left eye, and a thick split runs down through her face. Blood is pouring from the spot where her nose used to be, but there's some kind of bright pink matter slipping out as well, as if she's already broken through to her brain.
“I won't let you!” she gurgles through the blood, staring straight ahead. “I'd rather die!”
She hesitates for a moment, before crushing the wrench against her face one more time and burying the metal so deep in her head that the tip bursts out through the back of her skull.
A torrent of thick red blood erupts from her mouth, and for a few seconds she continues to hold the wrench, but then finally she lowers her hands and then slumps down to one side, landing hard on the wooden floor and then falling still.
I stare at her bloody, pulped face, and I watch as blo
od flows freely from the wound and forms an ever-growing puddle on the bare floorboards.
Her body twitches briefly, and then a couple of bubbles form in the blood that's caked around her mouth.
And then she's still again.
For several minutes, I can only stare at her body, hoping against hope that she might suddenly spring up and declare that the whole thing has been a joke. That she and Freddie have pulled off the prank to end all pranks. That none of this is real.
Finally, however, the puddle of blood gets close to my left hand, and I instinctively pull away. Hauling myself up, I fall back and bump against the wall, and then I realize I can still hear voices yelling on the monitor.
I turn and look at the video equipment. Even though a couple of hours have passed since I was last up here, the tape is still running and the monitor shows a static shot, as if the camera fell onto the floor in one of the other bedrooms.
“She's coming,” a man's voice sobs from the speakers, as I finally see what happened all those years ago to the men who murdered Molly Holt. “Please, for the love of God, somebody help me...”
Suddenly he steps into view, and I watch in horror as he starts trying to smash through the wall with his bare hands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The image on the monitor doesn't change. The camera is resting on its side, pointing toward the open doorway. At first, despite the cries and whimpers coming from the speakers, there's no sign of movement.
A few minutes ago, the man finally stopped trying to break through the wall. He managed to rip some of the wood away, but his hands were reduced to bloodied stubs and finally he fell back. For a couple of seconds I actually thought he was dead, until I began to hear a series of low, faint sobs.
Finally, I watch as a trembling, bloodied hand comes into view, and I realize somebody is crawling into the shot.
It's one of the men from earlier.
He stares into the lens, blinking wildly.
“She's coming,” he gasps finally. “She killed Tony and now she's coming for me, and I can't get out.”
He holds his hands closer to the lens, and I see his mangled fingers. He pulverized both fists in his desperate attempt to smash his way through the wall, and all he managed was to break a few chunks away.
Suddenly there's a loud bump on the soundtrack, and the man turns to look at the door. He stares for a moment, before turning back to the camera with fear in his eyes.
“My name is Joseph Mynot,” he stammers, “and I want to confess. I want to confess to everything. Please, I never meant to be a bad person, I just -”
He shudders as there's another loud bump.
“May God forgive me for what I've done,” he continues after a few seconds, and now his voice is trembling with fear. “I don't know what's wrong with me, but I couldn't help myself. I tried so hard to hold back, to keep myself from doing these awful things, but eventually the pressure was too much. I saw a girl and I knew I had to have her, so Tony and I took her from the street and brought her here, but we never realized she'd be able to come back and -”
He flinches as there's another bump on the tape, and this time I swear the door behind him shudders slightly.
“Please don't let her get me,” he sobs, as he crawls closer to the camera. There are tears in his eyes. “Please, I'll do anything, I'll confess and spend the rest of my life in jail, but please don't let her come. I saw what she did to Tony and I don't want her to do the same thing to me. She put her hands on his shoulders from behind, and then she...”
His voice trails off.
He stares at the camera for a moment, and then suddenly there's a faint clicking sound. I watch the monitor in horror as the door handle starts to turn on the recording, but this Joe guy is still staring into the camera's lens.
“If anyone ever finds this tape,” he continues, “please know that I'm not a bad person. Tell my parents I confessed at the end. I did a bad thing, I know that, and I'd do anything to take it back. I swear to God, if I could go back in time and change things, I'd never have hurt anyone. I just wanted to spend time with her, I never meant for things to get out of hand but Tony encouraged me and then things snowballed and before I knew what I -”
Suddenly he looks toward the door, as if he finally heard the sound of the handle slowly turning.
“Leave me alone!” he screams. “It was all Tony's idea, not mine! I'm sorry I went along with him, but please, leave me alive so I can tell other people what happened!”
The door slowly creaks open, revealing just a crack of darkness out in the corridor.
Leaning closer to the screen, I squint as I try to see whether there's anybody looking into the room through the doorway. At first I don't see anyone, but then I realize that there might just be a faint, dark silhouette.
Suddenly Joe turns back to the lens and grabs the camera, picking it up and swinging it around until he's sitting with his back against the wall. He stares into the lens for a moment, clearly terrified, and then he looks past the camera as if he's finally seen something in the doorway.
“No,” he stammers, his eyes widening with fear, “please, don't...”
He falls silent, and the camera's hum continues until suddenly I realize I can hear a faint creaking sound getting louder on the soundtrack. It's almost as if someone is edging closer to him, stepping up behind the camera.
“Please,” he continues, looking up at whoever is in the room with him, “have mercy. I'm not a bad person. Give me a chance to put this right.”
The camera is shaking in his hands now, making it almost impossible for me to see what's happening, but I think I can just about see a shadow falling across Joe's face.
“Please!” he shouts, and then suddenly he drops the camera. “Don't hurt me! I'm sorry! I'll do anything, but don't -”
As the camera comes to a rest facing the wall, Joe's voice becomes an agonized scream. The sound is so loud, the speakers actually start crackling a little, and I stare in horror at the monitor as I listen to a series of bumps rising above the screams and cries. Somebody's clearly attacking the man, and a moment later the camera is bumped slightly, causing it to slide across the room until it bumps against another wall. When it comes to a rest, however, the view still shows nothing more than a section of the bare wooden floor.
Joe is still screaming, although after a moment the scream becomes more of a pained, guttural whine.
“Please,” I hear him croaking, “Molly, don't...”
Suddenly there's a horrific rasping sound, as if he's being choked, and this continues for a couple of minutes before fading to nothing. A moment later there's a thud, as if a body has hit the floor, and this is followed by only one sound.
The hum of the camera.
I wait, watching the screen in case anything else appears.
The hum continues.
Finally, after a few more minutes, I hear a faint shuffling sound, as if something heavy is being dragged across the floor. The sound gets further and further away, and then the tape is silent for several more minutes.
Too shocked to look away from the monitor, I wait in case anything else happens.
Eventually, the camera shudders slightly, and I realize I can hear the sound of slow, rasping breaths coming from the speakers. A moment later the camera shudders again, and this time it seems to move a few inches across the floor, as if some unseen force was moving it away from the corner. The rasping breaths continues, and I feel a slow sense of dread rising through my chest as -
Suddenly the monitor goes black, followed a fraction of a second later by the light on the desk. The generator outside has suddenly stopped running, and now I'm standing all alone in the dark and silent house.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I stand completely still.
Listening.
Waiting.
Barely even daring to breathe.
I've been up here in the room for several minutes now, since the generator died and the lights went off, an
d I haven't heard a single noise. I'd become so accustomed to the constant hum of the generator, and now the silence somehow seems more oppressive than ever.
I'm watching the door, keeping my eyes fixed on the handle, waiting in case it turns.
“This isn't real,” I whisper, shaking with fear as I try to remind myself that ghosts don't exist. “This is all just in your head. There's nothing here.”
After a moment I look down at the floor, where Becky's dead, mashed face rests in a puddle of blood with one end of the wrench poking out from just above her nose and the other end protruding from the back of her head.
“She was just crazy,” I continue. “She lost her mind and she imagined she...”
My voice trails off.
“She was crazy,” I whisper again, but deep down I'm starting to think that something else must have been wrong with Becky. How could she have lost her mind so fast, and how could she have been driven to kill herself in such a horrific manner? Nobody could do that to themselves. It's impossible.
No.
Wait.
This is how it starts.
This is how people end up believing in ghosts, and how they end up going mad.
“There's nothing here,” I say out loud, still trying to convince myself. “It's just a house, and people went crazy here, but that's all. Molly Holt...”
I hesitate, worried that simply by saying that name I might cause her to appear.
I wait, but the house remains silent.
I have to do this.
“Molly Holt is dead,” I continue finally. “She's gone. She's not here now, and I have to leave.”
I stare at the door, telling myself that it's time to limp out of here and go for help, but somehow I can't bring myself to start walking. The house is still silent, but I'm scared that if I disturb that silence, I might disturb something else that's lurking in the darkness. Watching the shadows, I wait in case there's any hint of some kind of dead, ghostly girl crawling this way.
