by M A Roth
Sam stood there and was pointing at the wardrobe. His eyes fell on Zee and he snarled. No sound came out, but he moved faster than lightning, looking like he was going to attack Zee. Zee didn’t flinch and Sam moved through him and disappeared.
“What was that?” I asked, confused. Why was Sam attacking him?
Zee looked guilty for a moment, but shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t know me,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “But he can sense what you are, right?” I asked, looking for something to make sense of this.
“Honestly, I don’t know if he can.” Zee moved towards the wardrobe, looking at the door as if he could see through it.
“What do you think is inside?” I asked with a small nervous laugh, terrified of what might lay behind the doors. I turned, taking in the room, looking for signs of Sam or anything else, but the room was empty.
“Do you want me to?” Zee asked, indicating the wardrobe door.
I shook my head and wrapped my hand around the handle, my knuckles turning white, and my heart ready to come out of my chest.
Pulling the doors open, I let out a small laugh when my parents’ clothes came into view, no monster jumped out, but then the smell of them squeezed my stomach. I pushed the clothes aside, looking for anything, but came up with shoeboxes that still held new shoes and boxes of photos of our family. I quickly pushed the lid closed, not wanting to look.
I searched for another half an hour with Zee’s help, but we came up with nothing.What the hell, Sam! I thought. There was nothing here, but there had to be. I pulled out all the clothes to get a better look at the wardrobe to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything. Then I saw it. A small hole, the size of my baby finger in the base panel of the wardrobe. I stuck my finger in the hole and pulled, but it didn’t budge.
“Here, let me,” Zee said, and I stood back watching as he took out a small penknife, placed it in the hole and pulled. The panel came off and a small box sat neatly in the secret compartment.
Zee took it out and handed it to me. My stomach fluttered. I was excited to see what Sam wanted to show me and nervous at the same time. I looked at the shoebox that held all of our photos and gathered it up into my arms.
“Let’s go!” I said, carrying my goods with me tightly against my chest. I wanted out of the house. I didn’t look around, but kept my head down as I made my way to the front door and out into the garden. Only then, I let out a sigh of relief to be out of the house. I looked up as Zee closed the door behind him.
Chapter Twelve
Abigail
Once we got back to my apartment, I asked Zee to give me some time alone so I could go through my find.
“I’ll ring you later,” I told him, hoping to erase some of the worry from his face. I smiled before leaving him staring at me and raced up the steps to my apartment door.
I couldn’t get the key in quick enough and slammed the door behind me, rattling the glass once again. Holding my treasure against my chest, I moved to the kitchen and placed the two boxes on the table. I stood there for a moment, staring at them. I was afraid to know what was inside it, yet I needed answers.
I took down the bottle of vodka, feeling a twinge of guilt, knowing Zee would be upset, but I needed a drink. Filling the mug to nearly overflowing, I sipped and let the vodka burn my throat. My hands shook as I slowly opened the box. I let out a shaky breath while I extracted all the papers from it. The first was old. I opened and started reading. It was Sam’s birth certificate, stating his full name: Sam John Thornton. His weight: 6lbs 3oz. Place of birth: London Memorial Hospital. I skimmed through the rest. My parents’ names. Time of birth, but nothing was important. I folded it back up and took the next piece of paper into my hands.
It was a letter from my mother.
***
“Dear Abigail,
Where do I begin? Firstly, I know I am no longer with you, Sam, or your father, but it’s for the best. I couldn’t bear one more day in my own personal hell, I had to make the pain stop, so I did, understanding that’s where I would go, hell itself. It was where I needed to go, my own personal demon is there and I needed to end my torment once and for all. I need you to know that I was once very happy with life and loved your father dearly, but everything changed so quickly.
Right now, you are in your room with Sam, playing a game of tea party. I want so badly to hug you and tell you that I’m sorry, but I know it won’t make a difference. I am myself for a brief moment and then I am gone to another time. I need you and Sam to know that I love you both very much. I wish things could be different and I hope you grow up happy.
I need to warn you about something. I hope it never comes to this, but I need you to be prepared. You may even find what I tell you crazy, disturbing, or ramblings of a mad woman, but I need to tell you anyway.
Ghosts, angels, and demons exist. They are not the things from movies. They are so much worse. No matter what it is, if it’s not human, don’t trust it. Follow your instincts to keep you safe. Maybe you will forgive me one day for being a vacant mother. Maybe I will see you again.
Remember, I am your mother and I will always love you.
Love always,
Mum
***
I clutched the note and sat there for what felt like an eternity. If only she knew that Sam and Dad were gone now. I never believed that she noticed what I did as a kid; she always seemed so far away. My heart squeezed at the torment that etched itself into her letter. What happened that drove her to take her own life? I often wondered if it was the man that was always with my mother? Now, I believe it was a demon, but why he followed her around her entire life, I will never understand. She knew it was there. She knew demons existed.
I closed the box. Angry tears flooded my eyes, and I grabbed the bottle of vodka and the box of pictures, taking them with me into the bedroom where I could drown my sorrows. I looked at each picture and the pain and grief welled up, bursting from the box where I had hid them. Yet, not one tear fell from my wet eyes. I wanted to cry, but didn’t know how. I doused the pain with vodka until the empty bottle hit the carpet. I got up and rummaged through the cupboard in the kitchen, only to find empties. This can’t be happening. I checked under the sink where I normally kept an emergency bottle, but it looked like the emergency had already happened my bottle was gone.
I let out a sigh and returned to the bedroom. Leaning against the wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes tight. I tried to picture my mother, but her image was long gone, like she never really existed. I wanted to cry for her, for me, but nothing came. My eyes burned and somewhere inside me, a young child roared to life, slamming her fists against my chest and squeezing my heart. My eyes shot open and landed on a picture of Sam smiling at the camera. My heart broke a little more as I looked at my perfect, baby brother, who I couldn’t save, who I would never hold again or tuck into bed. A memory came flooding back to me…
***
I remembered he woke me up one night crying.
“There’s a monster under my bed!” His one-eyed teddy bear hung loosely from his hand.
I rubbed my eyes before taking another look at Sam. His lips quivered as he hiccupped on another sob.
“Okay, let’s go see.”
I climbed out of bed, taking Sam’s hand; the feeling of his skin on mine gave me strength. He was my responsibility, and I would make the monster go away.
His room was freezing, and Sam’s crying grew louder. I hushed him before he woke up dad, who would scold me for not telling Sam there wasn’t anything under his bed, but there was. I could see the tips of fingers from the light that shone in from the hall.
“You have to be quiet or I can’t get rid of the monster.” Sam stopped crying, but fat tears still rolled down his cheeks. I knelt down until I could see under his bed. It’s hard to describe monsters as they are covered in shadows; only a snippet of long greasy hair, a hand you may see, or their long nails, but I had learned they are more
afraid of us than we are of them. They hide under beds or in closets because they like the dark - the light scares them. I growled at it, causing the monster to disappear. I smiled, turning back to Sam, but my smile fell away as goose bumps rose on my bare skin. I forced a smile for Sam’s sake. “It’s gone!”
Sam moved slowly, before kneeling down beside me and peeping under the bed, he looked back at me. “Will you stay with me?”
I could see he was still scared, and that wasn’t a nice feeling, but I was staying with him anyway. We climbed into his single bed, Sam stuck his ice-cold feet against my legs. I let out a little squeal, and he laughed. I pulled his small body into mine and smiled into my brother’s hair.
“Night, Sam,” I whispered.
“Night, Abby,”
And at that, his little body relaxed, and he fell asleep. I stayed awake, holding him tight as the man, who was in his room, just watched us. It was the same one that was always with my mum. I shivered and buried my head under the blankets.
***
Sam died shortly after that. He was only seven.
I stood up, not feeling ready to fall apart as the picture that I had held in my hand floated to the ground. Sam’s face was now crumbled from the grip I’d had on the picture. My breathing was becoming heavy, making me feel heavy. I felt like a ton had fallen on my chest. My heart beat erratically. My stomach tightened, and a roar clawed at my throat. I needed release. There were too many emotions roaring to life inside me. I needed a drink. I grabbed my brown leather jacket and wallet before leaving the apartment. It was two o’clock in the morning, but I knew I would only find peace at the end of a bottle.
I went to the twenty-four-hour convenience store, my steps as heavy as my heart. I missed Sam so much. I shook it off and focused on finding my pain reliever. The store was empty at this hour. The aisles were long, yet scarcely stocked. A small TV flickered in the far corner; my image was coming over six slots from different cameras. I reached the aisle, grabbed a bottle of vodka, and made my way to the counter. The sales assistant sat back reading a paper, his feet propped up on the desk. I stood there with my bottle in hand, but he ignored me. I cleared my throat and said excuse me as politely as I could, but the pig of a man raised one finger to let me know that he would be a moment while he read his paper. My anger flared and took over. I reached across and ripped the paper in two out of his hands.
“I said excuse me!” My nose flared with my rising temper.
“You little ill-mannered bitch!” His legs found the floor, and he stood to his full height while trying to suck in an enormous gut. Good luck with that, I thought. I ignored his rude comment. The anger deflating; I just wanted my drink.
“I’d like to pay, please.” I pushed a twenty across the counter along with the vodka.
“Get out!” He grabbed the vodka, taking it out of my reach.
I took a deep breath and smiled. “Look, I’m sorry about your paper. I just had a really shitty day.I’ll buy you a new one,” I said.
“Get out now, you little bitch!” His smirk made my anger rear its ugly head again.
“I’m trying to be nice,” I said through clenched teeth, but he turned away with a sneer. My body shook. I didn’t need this shit, and this was the only shop that was open. “Just one more thing,” I said, and when he turned back around my fist smashed into his nose. He crumpled to the ground in pain, the bottle of vodka smashed beside him.
I walked away and took a new bottle off the shelf, but stopped before leaving to pick up my twenty off the counter.
“I would like to pay for my purchase,” I said with a smile. The guy rose, blood soaking his nasty blue shirt and face. He took my twenty with trembling hands and gave me my change before stepping away. I smiled. “Thank you for serving me!”
He shook his head, but winced from the pain. His nose was broken. I stood, feeling a small bit of guilt, but he had asked for it. He must have thought I was waiting for a response.
“Thank… thank you, please, come again!”
I turned away with my vodka tightly under my arm. “I will!” I called back as I left the store. Why people had to make things so hard, I would never know.
When I reached home, I blared my stereo, ignoring the banging on the wall from my neighbours and drank until I fell into oblivion.
Chapter Thirteen
Daniel
After Abigail had asked me to leave her, I did, but I came back and stood outside her apartment. She wasn’t doing much, but drinking.
“Abigail,” I said her name softly with some anger in it, I wished she would stop.
I knew the consequences if she did, but she was relying on it too much. When I gave her the first drink, I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I truly believed she would just take the odd one and it would keep her functioning. However, now it was an addiction, and she needed to stop. Maybe if she did, she would realize she wasn’t like everyone else.
I sat on the ground and pulled the grass that had grown between the cracks. My mind wouldn’t stop. At this stage it felt like telling her the truth was the only way out. Sam knew what I was and I could see the accusation in his actions, but she believed me. Guilt swelled up inside me, but I pushed it back down. Everything was getting more complicated. I needed to stay close to her, but with Blake working alongside her it wasn’t helping.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, absorbed in my thoughts, when her door closed alerting me to her leaving. I followed her to a store, always staying a few paces behind. It was funny how she had never once suspected she was being followed. I would have given her a piece of my mind, for being so reckless but I was the one following her. My body went rigid when I heard the confrontation between her and the guy working there. I contemplated going in, pretending that I was in the area, but I knew she wouldn’t buy it. I didn’t need to go in when I saw that she hit the guy, breaking his nose. I smiled. She could defend herself. She left and returned to her apartment where she was safe inside and I continued my watch for the night. But hearing her drunken state was getting harder to listen to. Soon, I would tell her the truth. Soon, I promised myself.
Abigail
I awoke to pounding on the front door while my phone rang loudly beside my ear. Opening my eyes, my vision was filled with a beige carpet and an empty bottle of vodka, obscuring the door, turning it into a blur. The pounding on the door continued as I stood and raced to my small bathroom, bringing up last night’s overindulgence. I laid my head on the lid, trying to stop the tidal wave that rode high up my throat.
“I know you’re in there, Abigail. Now, open the bloody door!” Cathy’s voice boomed in the hall.
I stood up on shaky legs, my stomach stayed put as I moved through the hall and Cathy’s blue eyes looked at me through the letter box.
“Good God!” I heard her say as she stood up.
I opened the door, and she entered. The smell of lemons invaded my home once again.
She looked at me from head to toe before shaking her head. “I have no words,” she said before going to the kitchen. I closed the door and followed her, every movement slow and painful. When I entered, she was about to open my mum’s box. My hand slapped hard on the top of it and I picked up the note that I hadn’t placed back inside. Cathy raised an eyebrow as I clutched the box to my chest. “Touchy this morning,” she said as I went to my room and hid the box and the note in my wardrobe.
I returned to the kitchen. “What do you want, Cathy? I am in no mood to entertain you,” I said, just wanting her out of my home.
She snorted before sitting down at the table. “I wanted you to come shopping with me,” she said, looking like she didn’t want to be anywhere near me. I gave her a look, saying I’m sure you do.
“Cut the crap, Cathy, get to the point!”
She smiled, looking relieved. “I love it when you’re blunt. Fine. Father Peter is worried about you and seems to think you need girl time.” Girl time was done with air quotes. “So to keep the boss ha
ppy, here I am, and don’t even think about saying no. I never fail a mission.” I was about to say no when Cathy gave me a smirk. “I can make your day seem like a day in hell if you don’t come. I don’t think Zee would be too happy to hear that you’re hung over, once again, since he was preaching to Father Peter that you’d promised not to drink.”
Shame and anger filled my cheeks. “God, you’re such a bitch!” I said and stomped to my bedroom.
“Thanks for the compliment, so get your ass in gear and let’s move out!”
I groaned loudly, letting her know I was not happy.
***
We arrived at the mall within thirty minutes… too soon. I moved around mechanically after Cathy as she purchased something in nearly every shop. I didn’t pay any attention, but loitered outside each store, receiving strange looks from passersby. I must have looked really bad. I felt terrible. Between the noise of people and the grating music playing in the background, my head wasn’t doing so good. By the fifth shop, I started to feel self-conscious. One man and his daughter had stared at me. He clutched the little girl’s hand tighter and walked faster past me.
“I’m not going to rob you!” I said, and this made him move even faster.
I was about to turn away from the crowd when one girl caught my eye. She stood too still, her skin too pale, and the biggest giveaway she was dead was that her feet didn’t touch the ground. No ghost’s feet ever touched the ground; they no longer belonged to this world. I looked away and pretended that I couldn’t see her, like the crowds that avoided her. Some shivered, thinking it was a breeze and others moved around her not sure of why they did. It was human nature; their minds would make up a reasonable excuse for this. They always did.
“You can see me.”
I jumped, startled, and looked at her, but quickly diverted my eyes. Well, shit.
“I know you can see and hear me,” she stated again, but I looked around, pretending to be bored.
