by Amy Cross
On the wall, the clock ticked over to 2:53am.
“Hello?” she called out.
Silence.
Heading over to the table, she looked down at the notebook but saw – with a curious mixture of relief and disappointment – that the words scribbled on the final page were the same as before:
She's there. I'm going to help her.
She picked up the notebook and flicked through it, but nothing seemed different. When she closed it, however, she saw that four words had been written on the back, words that she was certain hadn't been there the last time she looked:
Don't come to 313.
Two
Running the knife under the hot tap, Michael watched as the last of the blood swirled into the water and ran down the sink. Once he was done, he turned the tap off and began to dry the blade.
***
“Please not tonight,” Charmian hissed, “please not tonight, please... Please, please, please...”
Beth sat cross-legged on the floor of her pitch-black bedroom, listening to the sound of her mother talking to herself in the kitchen. The only light was the thin line poking through from the hallway, showing under the door and lighting Beth's feet, but although she wanted more than anything to go out and hug her mother, she also knew that she had to be patient. Her mother was kind and sweet, but Beth knew full well that she lied to keep her safe and to stop her worrying. This time, she needed to know the truth, so she had to stay quiet and listen.
She wanted to know why her mother had been drugging her.
“Please,” Charmian continued, her voice filled with fear. “Just give me one night off, just -”
A clicking sound.
Her mother's voice stopped.
Beth held her breath.
Silence.
Another clicking sound, coming from out in the hallway, from the direction of the front door.
Beth looked back over at the clock by her bed. In the gloom, she was just about able to make out the time:
2:59am.
She took a deep breath.
“Please,” she heard her mother whispering. “Please, just -”
Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the front door.
Beth's eyes widened in the darkness. In the pit of her stomach, something was stirring; somehow, on some deep level that she didn't even understand, she knew that someone was out there on the other side of the front door. It was almost as if she could feel the figure's presence vibrating in the air all around the flat.
“Let me in,” a male voice called out suddenly. “Please, Charmian, it's so cold out here...”
“Daddy,” Beth whispered, forcing herself to stay on the floor instead of running out into the hallway. She knew her father was dead – she'd seen his body, she'd been to the funeral, she'd listened to her mother's tears – but she recognized his voice and she knew it wasn't fake. To keep herself from calling out to him, she clamped her hand over her own face.
“Leave us alone,” she heard her mother whimpering. “Please, for the love of God, don't do this again...”
“I'm not doing anything,” the voice continued. “I just want to come in. It's me, love. It's me, why don't you want us to be together again? I thought you'd be glad that I came back. It's a miracle!”
“I can't hear you,” Charmian replied.
“Let's not play games. Don't you think Beth wants to see me too? We can get our family back together. Don't you remember how we used to talk about getting a little brother or sister for her? We were going to move away from Marshall Heights and start a new life. We can do all of that, but first you have to open the door.”
“Beth's asleep.”
“Of course she is. Let me guess, you used the same little trick on her that you use every night, didn't you? That's kind of mean, isn't it? Drugging a kid?”
“Leave her alone,” Charmian continued.
“Why?” Suddenly there was a louder bang on the door. “Maybe I should try to wake her up.”
“Don't you dare!”
Beth listened to the sound of her mother running into the hallway and over to the front door.
“I swear to God,” Charmian hissed, “you will not hurt her. Whatever you are, I won't let you torment my daughter. You can do what you want to me, but you will never get to her.”
“She's my daughter too.”
“No she's not. My husband is dead! He died and he's gone.”
“I'm right here.”
“Go -” Charmian began to shout, before pausing. “Go away,” she hissed finally, with tears in her voice. “Please, just go away. Whatever you are and whatever you want, just leave us alone!”
“She's still my daughter.”
“Go away,” Charmian continued. “You can't do this!”
Beth held her breath again as she heard the front door shuddering, as if something on the other side was trying to push it open. Tightening her hand over her mouth, she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to run out into the hallway and telling herself the same thing over and over again:
It's not him.
It's not him.
It's not him.
“If you really want to protect Beth,” the voice said suddenly, “why don't you just open the door and come out here?”
“Why do you want me to do that?” Charmian whimpered.
“Just come out here,” he replied. “We can all be together, the way we were meant to be, but first you have to come and look into my eyes.”
Silence.
“It's not him,” Beth mouthed silently.
Suddenly, she realized she could hear the sound of the safety chain being opened.
“That's it,” the voice continued. “I'm not going to hurt Beth. I just came because I want you to step out here with me for a moment. I want to take you somewhere.”
“You can't touch her,” Charmian replied, her voice filled with fear. “I swear to God...”
Beth waited.
A moment later, she heard the front door creaking open.
And then a faint sob from her mother.
“There,” the voice said finally. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”
“My...” Charmian's voice faltered for a moment. “My tooth, one of my teeth is -”
“Don't worry about it,” the other voice replied, starting to change a little, sounding less like Beth's father. “You're here now, that's what matters.”
“Wait,” Charmian continued, “you're not -”
Before she could finish, the front door slammed shut.
Beth opened her eyes.
She waited, and then slowly she moved her hand away from her mouth.
“Mum?”
Silence.
She held her breath for a moment, but she could already tell that there was no-one else in the flat. She'd spent enough evenings home alone while her mother was out job-hunting, and she knew how the rooms sounded when no-one else was around.
Getting to her feet, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The sense of emptiness was palpable and there was no sign of anyone, so she made her way to the front door and paused for a moment, listening for any sign that people were talking outside.
“Hello?” she whispered, putting her ear to the frosted glass.
Silence.
Despite the fear in her chest, she forced herself to open the door. Leaning out into the cold walkway, she looked both ways, but there was no sign of her mother. She listened for a moment, but she couldn't even hear the sound of anyone in the stairwells, which seemed odd since footsteps always echoed; there was no sound of the elevator, either. All she could hear was the distant rumble of the city, and the sound of a passing train.
“Mum?” she called out.
Three
Pulling the front door open, Rose stepped out of the flat at exactly 3am and found herself face to face with Michael.
“Jesus!” she shouted, startled as she stepped back.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
�
�What the hell are you doing out here?” she replied, trying to regather her composure. “You scared the living crap out of me!”
“I was just walking past and I heard you moving about in there,” he explained, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “I was doing the rounds. Sorry, I... I guess I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”
“You did, huh?”
“It's a little late to be up.”
She checked her watch:
3am.
“I could say the same about you,” she replied cautiously. “Do you make a habit of wandering the corridors at this time in the morning?”
“Absolutely not. In fact, this is probably the first time I've been up at three since...” He paused, still staring at her. “Well, since forever. I mean, it's not really a very sociable time, is it?” He paused again, watching her with great interest. “The truth is, I couldn't sleep, and when I can't sleep I figure there's no point sticking it out in bed when I could just get up and do something useful.”
“Let me guess,” she continued, “you were out looking at the pipes.”
“As a matter of fact, I was.” He finally broke eye contact, looking instead at the laptop she was holding. A hint of displeasure crossed his face, as if he was concerned. “Heading out somewhere?”
She shook her head.
“What are you doing with that thing?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“So why did you open the door?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” she pointed out.
“I'm the building manager. Sorry, I just like to know what people are up to, that's all.”
“I thought some freak was out here,” she replied, forcing a fake smile. “I thought I heard someone scratching near the door and I was worried there were a bunch of kids up to no good, or maybe someone trying to cause trouble. Looks like I was wrong about that, huh?”
In the distance, there was the sound of someone crying out far off in the city.
“What do you think that was?” Rose asked.
Michael shrugged.
“It doesn't bother you?” she continued.
“It was miles away.”
“It still sounded like someone needed help.”
“This is London,” he explained, “and it's far too big for anyone to worry about everything they hear. Maybe that's wrong, but it's just the way things are around here. The best way to survive is just to focus on your own life and avoid getting unnecessarily tangled up in anyone else's.”
“I don't think I'd like to live like that,” she replied, staring out at the city lights.
“Do you want a coffee or something?” he asked suddenly, seemingly from nowhere.
“Do I want...” She paused, freaked out by the idea. “At three in the morning? No, I'm fine.”
“Are you sure? I know it's a little weird, but -”
“I'm fine, really,” she told him, stepping back into the flat. “Now I know that there's no-one out here, I can go back to bed and sleep peacefully.”
“I guess you can. Got to get your beauty sleep, I guess.”
“So...” She put her hand on the door, ready to swing it shut. “Goodnight, then.”
“Sure. Goodnight.”
She waited for him to leave, before giving up and finally pushing the door shut. For a moment, she could still see him on the other side of the frosted glass, but after a moment he turned and walked away. She stayed completely still, listening to the sound of his footsteps heading along the walkway, and finally she heard him going down the stairs at the far end. After a moment, she realized she'd been holding her breath ever since she shut the door.
“Weirdo,” she whispered.
Taking a deep breath, she checked her watch again and saw that the time was now 3:02am. Figuring that a couple of minutes wouldn't make much difference, she pulled the door back open and stepped out onto the cold, windy walkway. This time there was no sign of anyone, although as she pulled the door shut she couldn't help but glance both ways, just in case Michael showed up again. She kept telling herself not to be paranoid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching somehow. She double-checked that the knife was secured in her belt buckle before heading along toward the stairwell at the far end of the walkway, where she hit the Call button for the elevator.
“Mum?”
Looking over her shoulder, she froze as she realized she'd heard a little girl's voice. She waited, but the voice – which had seemed far off, as if it was on another floor – didn't return. After a few seconds, she figured she must have imagined whatever she'd thought she'd heard.
A moment later, the elevator door shuddered open.
***
“Well this isn't creepy as hell,” she whispered to herself a few minutes later as she stepped out of the elevator and looked along the walkway toward flat 313.
She took a deep breath, while reminding herself that she didn't have to go anywhere: she could just head back to her aunt's flat and come up with some other, less terrifying, approach. Still, she felt deep down that the longer she waited, the greater the chance that she might never see Megan or her aunt again. Besides, in the back of her mind she still felt that there had to be a simple explanation for everything that had happened. Talking to Ben was fun, but at the end of the day, all his chatter about ghosts and magnetic fields was clearly just over-excited fantasy.
Taking another deep breath, she made her way along the walkway until finally she reached the spot outside flat 313. Hearing a noise further along the walkway, she glanced toward the far end and for a brief moment felt as if something was watching her. Her eyes scanned the darkness, looking in all the shadows for the faintest hint of movement, but the sensation quickly passed. Still, Ben's words rang in her ears:
“At 3am, the barrier is at its weakest. That's when things can pass through.”
“There's no barrier,” she muttered. “This is the real world.”
Nevertheless, she opened the laptop and started the monitoring program. As the graphs appeared one by one, she couldn't help but notice various small fluctuations; she still didn't fully understand the various data points, but she knew enough to realize that something seemed different, with the main graph showing a steady rise to a point much higher than she'd ever seen before. Even if she was losing faith in Ben's ideas, she still figured that the graphs had to mean something. After setting the laptop on the floor, she turned to face the door to flat 313.
For a moment, she imagined ghosts inside.
Then she reminded herself that ghosts were impossible.
Finally she realized that she was yo-yoing constantly from one extreme to the other in a constant cycle of belief and denial.
She took a deep breath, and held it for a few seconds.
From inside the flat, there was the sound of a muffled voice. Moments later she heard another voice, and she realized that once again there was an argument. Still unable to make up her mind about what was happening, she decided to focus on the few certainties. Stepping forward, she was finally able to hear what was being said:
“I didn't mean to do anything,” a female voice was whimpering. “I thought it was okay to go out this afternoon, I thought you -”
A sudden thumping sound rattled the window. Rose almost stepped back, but she forced herself to remain in place even though every inch of her body was poised to run.
“I won't do it again,” the female voice continued. “I swear, I'll just stay in. I didn't leave the building, I just took the rubbish down to the -”
Another thumping sound, followed by a brief, truncated cry of pain that sounded more like a wounded animal than an actual person.
Rose raised her hand to knock on the door, but something held her back. Her heart was pounding as she waited for another sound from inside the flat, and when she looked back down at the laptop she saw that the numbers were changing wildly. The air felt different, too, as if it was suddenly barer and lighter, easier to breathe.
“I need
to go out sometimes,” the girl's voice said suddenly. “I need to get food from the store, and I need to run errands. If I don't do that, how can I keep everything the way you like it?”
Listening for a moment longer, Rose heard footsteps inside the flat.
“Why don't you tell me when I can go?” the voice asked. “That way, you know where I am, and you know when I'm coming back. I understand how it must be difficult for you to come home and find that I'm out unexpectedly, so let's make sure it's not unexpected, okay? We'll set up a schedule and I swear I'll stick to it. Don't you think that could work? We just need to learn to trust each other.”
Silence.
“No, please,” the female voice said suddenly, as if she was panicking, “I just want to -”
Another bang, and then more silence.
Still poised to knock, Rose waited.
“Let's just set up a time now,” the female voice continued, sniffing back tears, “and then -”
Suddenly another thumping sound could be heard from within, accompanied by a gasp of pain.
“Hey!” Rose called out, banging on the door. “What are you doing in there? Where's -”
Before she could finish, she heard firm, heavy footsteps approaching the door from the other side. She took a step back and stared at the tall, blurry silhouette that she could just make out through the frosted glass. Whoever or whatever was on the other side, they were clearly staring at her, and she could almost sense his anger. For a moment, she thought back to the image of Ellis Hathaway that she'd seen earlier, and she had no doubt that this was the man on the other side of the glass.
She waited.
“Open the door,” she said finally, trying not to sound scared even though the cold night was making her shiver.
No reply.
“My name is Rose Booth,” she continued, forcing herself to step forward. “I need you to open this door or I'll... I'll cal the police.” As soon as the words left her lips, she knew they constituted the weakest of weak threats; after all, it was clear that the police had completely washed their hands of Marshall Heights a long time ago. As if to prove that point, a siren could be heard passing in the night, first coming a little closer and then heading away again, disappearing into the noise of the city.
