by Amy Cross
"You know what caused it," I say firmly, feeling a sudden sense of cold steel in my chest. Fixing her with a determined stare, I feel almost like I'm daring her to admit the truth. "You know damn well what caused it," I continue. "Not just for me, for both of us. John too. And the worst part is, it's still there."
"Ellen -"
"It's still there," I add. "We can't ignore it forever, Kate. It's still right there in the house, the same as always."
"You haven't seen it for years," she replies.
"Are you so sure?" I pause for a moment, feeling as if I'm at a crossroad: I can either tell her that everything's okay and try to go back to normal, or I can admit the truth. "It's still there," I say eventually, aware that I probably sound mad. "It's waiting for something, Kate. I think it's waiting for me."
Chapter Seven
Kate
"I'm not going to be home tonight," I say, wiping the last of the tears from my eyes as I stand in the hotel bathroom. "I know it sucks, but I can't leave her, not when she's -"
Before I can finish, the lights above the sink flicker for a moment, before returning to normal. They've been doing that one and off for a while now, almost as if they're trying to get my attention.
"I just can't leave her when she's like this," I continue, keeping my voice down to the level of a whisper. "It breaks my heart to look at her, Luke. She's a wreck. She says she's okay, but there's this look in her eyes that just screams at me. She needs serious help, and so far I can't get anyone to take it seriously."
"Is she talking?" he asks.
"Only in fragments. She keeps going on about the house, as if it's somehow the cause of everything. I mean, I know it might be linked, but she's really fixated on it."
"Do you think she's seeing things?"
"Maybe."
"And the doctor let her leave?" he asks, sounding so far away as the line crackles.
"That fucking arsehole didn't know what he was talking about," I continue. "All he did was talk to her for five minutes, run a few tests, and then tell her to go home and wait for a letter. Apparently wandering around on a train line, trying to kill yourself, isn't considered an imminent threat. I swear to God, I'm going to put in a formal complaint. How the hell could he just let her walk out like this? Didn't he think about the fact that she might do it again? Didn't it occur to him that now we have to watch her twenty-four-seven?"
"Is John coming?"
"No," I mutter, forcing myself not to get too worked up. "You should have heard him, he was just talking in this really monotone voice, like he wasn't emotionally affected by any of it. Sometimes I think he's just closed himself up completely."
"It's probably a self-defense mechanism," Luke points out.
"I don't care, it's -" I'm interrupted by the lights flickering again. "Jesus," I add, "this place is falling apart." I pause as I think back to the phone call with John earlier. "My brother's a cold-hearted bastard," I continue. "I knew he was detached, but I didn't know he could just switch off his emotions like that. I swear to God, it's like he doesn't care."
"I'm sure he cares," Luke replies, "but he -"
I wait for him to finish.
"What?" I ask after a moment.
"Nothing," he replies. "Just a bump somewhere in the house."
"Not again," I mutter, before pausing. "Has it been worse today? Since I left, I mean."
"What?"
"The bumps."
"Not really. I just noticed one now, that's all. I don't think we need to start getting worked up about that kind of thing. Let's just focus on the real-world dramas."
"Listen, I think I'm going to have to go and check on Ellen, okay? I might not get a chance to call you tonight, but we'll talk tomorrow."
"I'm sorry I was wrong," he replies. "When I said she'd be okay and there was no reason to worry, I guess I was just trying to make you feel better."
"Don't worry about it," I tell him. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"Are you sure you'll be okay alone in the house tonight?" I ask.
"Sure. Anyway, I'm not alone. I've got Wilbur with me, and he's the greatest guard-dog in the world, remember? If the ghost even thinks about moaning and groaning in the night, Wilbur'll scare him off."
"I'll be back tomorrow," I say with a faint smile.
Cutting the call, I put the phone down and stand alone in the bathroom for a moment, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I swear, I look older than I've ever looked in my life. I'm twenty-eight years old, and suddenly I've got fucking bags under my eyes, and I think I'm even starting to get the first vague hint of a double-chin. The worst part is, I'm exhausted but I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight. I can't afford to stop watching Ellen, not even for a second.
I feel like she could slip away at any moment.
Chapter Eight
Ellen
"Did you notice the lights?" I ask as Kate comes out of the bathroom. "It was like being at home again."
"I'm sure it's not quite like that," she replies, pulling the door shut and then stopping to stare at me. She looks so tired and worried, and I can't help feeling guilty for putting her through all of this. "Don't get paranoid," she adds. "We're, what, fifty miles from home right now? I think that should be a safe enough distance."
I force a faint smile. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, and I'm already wishing that I'd had the courage to leave while my sister was in the bathroom. I just want to sleep, and I want people to stop fussing, but I know damn well that everyone's going to be talking about me. I could hear her voice while she was in the bathroom, probably talking to Mum or Dad, or maybe to Luke. It doesn't matter who, really; I know that I'm the center of attention right now.
"I really wanted to do it, you know," I say after a moment. "It wasn't some kind of cry for attention."
"I believe you."
"I was sure I was going to die," I continue. "I thought there was no way it could stop in time, but it did. The brakes were shrieking and grinding. I think there were only about three of four meters left by the end. I can't believe how suddenly it was able to brake. At first, I even thought that maybe time had just stood still. It's kind of a miracle." I stare at her, and it's clear that she's finding this conversation difficult. "Sorry," I add. "I'll stop talking about it."
"We can talk about it if it helps," she replies, her voice filled with tension and fear.
"Apparently," I continue, "when a body gets hit by a train at high speed, it kind of explodes and gets -"
"Okay," she says firmly, "maybe we shouldn't go into too much detail right now, okay?"
I smile.
"I'm sorry it came to this," she replies after a moment.
"I just want you to understand that this wasn't a cry for help," I tell her. "It was real. I wanted to die."
She nods.
"I just can't believe I messed it up," I add. "I mean, it shouldn't be that hard, should it?"
An awkward silence falls between us for a moment. For my part, I just want to get the hell out of here, but I guess I have to stay for Kate's sake. She seems pretty shaken up, and I feel a little guilty for putting her through all of this. The best thing for everyone would probably be if I just try to be patient, let Kate do all the things she needs to do in order to feel like a good sister, and then hopefully she'll leave me alone so that I can do what I need to do. I don't want her to blame herself when it's over, so I should at least give her the opportunity to feel as if she's done everything in her power.
And then I'll find another way. Something that works, this time.
"Maybe we should go back to the house tomorrow," she says after a moment. "I know you might be a little nervous, but it's been almost eighteen months. Don't you think it's time to give it another chance?"
I shake my head.
"There's no reason to be scared," she continues, "and even if you are, maybe it'd feel good to face your fear."
"I'm not scared," I say firmly, "I just..." I pause. "It's okay for you. You live there with D
ad and Luke, so to you everything seems normal, but I don't want to ever go there again. I don't like the feeling I get when I walk through the door, or when I even think about it. You know some of the stuff that happened to me there, and if you knew the rest..." My voice trails off as I realize that there's no way I can put it into words. "Going back to the house physically," I add eventually, "is just not something I can ever do. And mentally, I never really left."
"I understand, but -"
"And this isn't the time to try to force it," I say firmly. "Please, Kate. Maybe one day we can talk about it, but not now. I don't think I can handle it."
She sighs.
Above, the lights flicker for a moment.
"That's just some bad wiring," Kate says quickly.
"You don't know that," I point out.
"You're kind of making the rules up as you go along," she continues, clearly starting to lose her patience. "One minute you say you can't go to the house because it's there, and now you're acting like it's everywhere."
"Everywhere we go," I reply. "Everywhere I go. After university, I went all the way to fucking Japan to try to get away from it, and it still followed me there."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw it," I tell her, trying not to cry. "Even when I was thousands of miles away in Tokyo, I saw it."
She stares at me.
"I never told anyone," I continue, "but that's when I realized that I can never escape. If it can follow me to the other side of the world, then it can follow me anywhere. Did you realize that? Did you realize how completely fucked I am?"
"No," she insists, her voice sounding a little quieter than before. "Jesus, this isn't the time to be talking about the house, Ellen. I'm sorry I brought it up."
She stares at me for a moment, as if I'm some kind of problem and she's trying to work out what to do with me. I guess I'll have to get used to this kind of attention, because pretty soon everyone in the whole goddamn family is going to know what I tried to do today. For the rest of my life, people are going to treat me like I'm some kind of fragile mental patient.
Sometimes, I think that even Kate doesn't understand what's happening to us. For one thing, it's as if she hasn't realized that there's a third person here in the room with us, flickering in the corner.
Chapter Nine
Kate
"What are you thinking?" I ask eventually, after watching her in silence for a few minutes.
Ignoring me, she sits on the edge of the bed, looking like a neat little schoolgirl who's waiting to see the headmaster. Somehow, when she's really down, she seems smaller than usual. Ellen might be two years older than me, but she has this uncanny ability to make me feel like I'm the strict, stern one. Sometimes, I think that's how she likes it; she makes me act more like an adult, so that she can feel more like a child.
"Ellen?" I ask again after a moment. "Can you tell me what you're thinking?"
She shakes her head.
"Are you thinking anything?"
She nods.
"Then tell me."
No response.
"Come on," I continue, forcing a smile. "How bad can it be? Tell me what you're thinking and maybe I can help."
"I'm thinking that this is stupid," she replies, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she stares over at the door.
"What's stupid?" I ask. "The hotel? Us being here? What happened today?"
She nods.
"All of it?" I wait for her to reply. "You want to leave, is that it?" I ask. "Ellen, the room's paid for now, so there's no more debate."
"You don't get to decide that," she mutters, getting to her feet, grabbing her bag and heading to the door as if she's suddenly been taken over by a rush of energy. "I can't afford a hotel room, so -"
"Stop!" I say firmly, grabbing her hand and pulling her back with so much force that I actually surprise myself, let alone her. "You're not going anywhere!" I continue. "I'm paying for the room, so stop worrying about that!"
"You can't afford it either!"
"Let me deal with it!"
"You're always going on about money," she replies, starting to seem a little breathless, "and about budgets and crap like that, so let's think about money, yeah? It's stupid to stay in a hotel when you could just get on a train and go home."
"I've had enough of trains for one day," I snap, although I instantly regret being so direct. "I'm sorry -"
"No," she replies. "You're right. It must have been a very tough few hours for you. You look tired, Kate. Really fucking tired, so why don't you go home and get some sleep?"
"And what about you?" I ask. "Are you just gonna go back to your flat?"
"You don't understand," she mutters quietly. Her mood seems to be changing dramatically by the second, and frankly it's hard to keep up. It's as if there are a million thoughts in her mind and she's struggling to work out which ones are right.
"Help me," I say after a moment. "I want to know what you're thinking."
"It's here!" she replies, trying to pull me out of the way. "Can't you feel it? It's right here in this room!"
"Come and sit down," I say, trying to lead her toward the bed. She seems to be starting to panic, and the last thing I need is for her to go into one of her manic stages again.
"No," she mutters, pushing me away.
"Ellen -"
"Let me out of here!" she shouts.
Instead of replying, I put my arms around her waist and pull her across the room and then down onto the bed, before climbing on top of her and forcing her to stay down. She struggles wildly, as if she thinks I'm trying to hurt her, but I manage to get a good grip on her, at least for now. In a way, it's like the times we used to play as children, except this time it's life-and-death. There's no way I can let her leave this room, not when she's in such a mess, but she's fighting back with renewed vigor and I'm not sure I can keep her pinned down forever.
"Ellen -"
"You've got no right to hold me here!" she shouts.
"Calm down."
"I'm not a child!"
"Ellen, calm the fuck down."
"I'll shout," she sneers. "I'll scream for help and eventually someone'll come and break the door down, and I'll have you arrested for kidnapping me."
"Don't be stupid -"
As if some new frenzy has suddenly been unleashed in her soul, she reaches up and sinks her nails into my face, before pulling down and scratching me so hard that I'm forced to push her arms away and hold them down flat on the bed. Looking into her eyes, I see a kind of white fury, and it's all I can do to keep her in position by squeezing my legs around her waist. I swear to God, it's like she's been possessed by the spirit of a wild animal. If the doctor had seen her like this, there's no way he'd ever have let her leave the hospital this afternoon. Sometimes, it's almost as if she's got some kind of demon in the depths of her soul.
"Ellen!" I shout, desperately trying to get through to her.
"Let me out of here!" she screams.
"Ellen!"
Getting a hand loose for a moment, she tries to punch my chin. It hurts, but she doesn't get a proper hit and I'm quickly able to get her hand back down onto the bed.
"You need help," I shout, feeling a trickle of blood run down my cheek from where she scratched me a moment ago. "Ellen, listen to me. There's something wrong with you, but we're going to get it fixed! I'm not letting you out of this room, not when you're like this. Please, try to calm down!"
"It's not me!" she shouts. "It's you!" She turns to look over to the door, and for a moment her eyes seem to be fixed on something. "How can you help me," she whispers, "when you can't even see what's chasing me?"
Following her gaze, all I see is the door and an empty corner of the room.
"You don't see it, do you?" she whimpers after a moment, all the fight seeming to drain from her body as quickly as it appeared. "You just think I'm crazy. You're like everyone else. You think I'm some kind of crazy bitch who just can't handle life. Dad thinks the same thin
g. He thinks I'm just a weak, emotional bitch who should pull her socks up and get on with things."
"I don't think you're crazy," I reply, hoping that her anger has finally passed. "Dad doesn't either; he's old-fashioned, but he doesn't think you're crazy. I just think that you need help, Ellen; proper, medical help. The kind I can't give you." I wait for her to say something, but she's still staring over at the door. "There's nothing here," I add eventually. "We're hot at the house now, Ellen, and nothing can follow you, not all the way here. I'm sorry I pressured you to think about coming home. That was wrong of me, and I apologize, but you can't keep running forever. You have to come home some time."
"It's not my home," she replies firmly, "and no, I don't ever have to go back to that house again. That's the whole point. I got out, and nothing can make me go back. That thing wants me to go back, but I won't." She looks over at the empty corner of the room. "Do you hear me?" she continues, as if she's talking to someone else. "It doesn't matter what you do or what you say or how long you spend following me, you'll never get me to go back there!"
"Who are you talking to?" I ask.
She turns to me. "It doesn't matter," she says calmly.
Sighing, I start to release my grip on her a little, although I remain firmly on top, just in case I need to hold her down again. I knew that today's drama was going to eventually boil down to a talk about the house again, and I don't know whether to be bored or terrified by the prospect of rehashing my sister's problems.
"I thought it'd leave us alone once we got older," she continues. "I thought it was only interested in us because we were children. That made sense at the time, and it gave me hope, but now it seems to be reaching out for us again, or at least for me, and I can't handle that."
"You're taking this too far," I reply, worried that she's constructing some kind of fantasy explanation for her troubles. "I know we talked about it a lot when we were younger, but we're not kids anymore. It was a game, Ellen. It was just something we joked about to scare each other."
