The House We Haunted and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  "Tonight?" I say out loud.

  I listen to the silent apartment.

  "You're losing your mind," I continue. "You're talking to yourself. That's what happens, isn't it? You start talking to yourself, and then you go completely crazy. No-one else wants to talk to you, because you're a total bitch..."

  I pause.

  "Stop it," I whisper finally, before taking a gulp of water and then heading back to the bathroom.

  As soon as I step through the door, however, I can tell that something's very wrong. I glance across the gloomy little room, looking first at the bath and then at the mirror. I can't explain it, but I feel as if there's some kind of presence in here with me, and after a moment I realize that I've felt like this before. It's the house, reaching out to me from so many miles away as it tries to wrap itself around my mind. I feel as if I might be overcome by panic at any moment, but when I turn to look at my reflection, I can see a kind of steely determination in my eyes. After a few seconds, the fear starts to fade away and instead a kind of anger begins to bubble up through my soul. I can't believe that the house would dare to think it could still influence my life, and I'm overcome by the desire to use the razor blades, if only to make the house see that I have my own will.

  Suddenly I realize that if I turn and look at the bath, I'll see someone.

  I focus on my reflection.

  A single tear trickles down my cheek.

  Finally, I realize that I've got no choice. I can stand here all night, but eventually I'll have to face the fact that someone is here in the room with me.

  I turn and look at the bath.

  There's a naked woman sitting in the water, with her knees drawn up to her face. She's staring at me with a forlorn, heavy-eyed expression, and her mouth is slightly open, as if she's on the verge of saying something. Her skin is a little gray, and although the water in the bath should be warm, she seems to be shivering. I blink a couple of times, expecting her to disappear, but she just continues to shiver and stare at me, and finally her teeth start to chatter, as if she's getting colder and colder.

  "I..." I start to say.

  The sound of her chattering teeth is getting louder.

  Suddenly overcome by the urge to get out of here, I run out of the room and push the door shut. My heart is pounding as I stand naked in the hallway, but I swear I can still hear those chattering teeth. Running over to the bed, I grab yesterday's clothes and start getting dressed as quickly as possible. I don't know where the hell I'm going to go, but there's no way I can stay here right now, not with that woman sitting in the bath. Almost falling over the chair as I grab my coat and phone, I race to the door and head out into the corridor. Filled with panic and convinced that the gray-skinned woman is going to come out of the bathroom at any moment, I barely have time to pull the front door shut as I hurry to the elevator.

  I can't get away from the house. I've seen that woman before, and felt her presence. She's the one who's been haunting me all my life.

  Chapter Two

  Kate

  It's late and the city is swarming with people, but I don't have anywhere to go. Still, I feel the need to be out here, so I find myself wandering the streets.

  The apartment costs more than I can really afford, and there's no way I can ask Luke for more money. I just about have enough for rent, and for a small amount of food, but I sure as hell can't eat or drink out. There was a time when money wasn't such a problem and I'd spend most nights in cafes or pubs with friends, having a good time and trying to forget all about the house. Tonight, I can't help but feel the weight of sadness in my chest as I walk past bars and spot happy, laughing people. I'm tempted to go and join them, to just soak up the atmosphere of city life, but every pound I spend tonight is a pound I wouldn't have tomorrow.

  Then again, if there isn't going to be a tomorrow, why am I worrying?

  Why not just spend all the money I have left?

  Why not just do whatever I want, with no thought of the consequences?

  Why not live free?

  For a fraction of a second, the prospect is tantalizing.

  No worries. No fears. No tomorrow. Just a few final, happy hours.

  And then I realize it probably won't be like that at all.

  After a couple of hours, I stop at a small kebab shop at the end of the road. I've walked past the place so many times and grimaced at its over-lit interior and the cheap-looking food. Tonight, however, it suddenly seems like an oasis. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a handful of coins and give them a quick count, and I realize that I have enough for a small meal. I glance back the way I came, almost as if I'm daring myself to go back to the apartment, but I know that gray-skinned woman will still be there, waiting for me. As a shiver passes through my chest, I take a deep breath and force myself to step into the kebab place. At least in here I can try to forget about everything else for a while.

  Everything except the woman in the bath back at my apartment. She's waiting for me. I can feel it...

  There's a gaggle of drunk, laughing women over by the counter, and my first instinct is to turn around and leave. Forcing myself to stay, I figure that queuing would be a decent way to kill some time, so I wait patiently as the women argue with each other about what they're going to have. I don't think I was ever this kind of drunk; I usually just hit a kind of emotional wall and wanted to go to sleep, whereas other people seem to go completely out of control. I guess there's always been a part of me that's scared to truly let go, since I never know exactly what might come out.

  "Kate?" a voice calls out from nearby.

  Glancing across at a nearby table, I spot a familiar figure smiling at me. It takes a moment before I realize where I've seen her before.

  "Kelly?" I say, barely able to believe my eyes.

  "Hey," she says, with a faintly cautious tone. "What are you doing here?"

  Figuring I should at least be polite, I make my way over to her. Kelly dated John for a few years, and they even lived together for a while before breaking up a couple of years ago. I always liked her, and I was sorry when she left him, but at the same time I totally understood why she had to go off and live her own life. She was always a happy, bubbly person, and I never really worked out what she saw in my brother.

  "I was hungry," I mutter, glancing at my reflection in the window and realizing that I must look pretty bad right now. I'm wearing old, tatty clothes that were clearly just thrown on, and I can't help but notice the sadness in my eyes. Is that something that other people see, or is it just me?

  "I'm just out with some friends," she replies, clearly a little drunk as she rubs her bare feet. "They're ordering for me. These new shoes are killers, so I'm just trying to massage my feet back to life before we get going again."

  I smile politely.

  "So how are you doing?" she asks. "I always meant to get in touch, but... you know how it is. After everything with John, I felt like it was better to make a clean break. I didn't want to still be around and maybe give him false hope."

  "Sure," I reply. "I'm good." It's a lie, but I sure as hell don't feel like opening up right now. "The same old stuff, you know? Just... getting by."

  "Having a night out, huh?" she asks.

  I nod.

  She smiles, but it's clear that she doesn't quite believe me. I mean, hell, I'm not dressed for a night out, and I'm pretty sure she can sense that something's wrong. Still, Kelly has always been a very polite person, so I doubt she'll probe too deeply. Besides, there's really no proper connection between us anymore, so it's not as if she has a reason to give a damn.

  "I suppose I should ask the obvious question," she continues after a moment. "How's John doing?"

  "He's good," I reply. "Still living in the same place, doing the same thing..." I pause, wondering how honest I should be. "He drinks a lot now," I add. "Something just seemed to snap in him a while back. I think it's his way of coping, but..." I pause as I recognize the pained look in her eyes. "I'm sorry," I continu
e, "I didn't mean to make you feel bad..."

  "It's fine," she replies. "He always had a little edge like that."

  "It's more than an edge now," I tell her. "I think he's trying to forget something."

  "Some people get loud when they drink," she replies, "and some people fall asleep. John always used to get morose, like he'd sink inwards. It was pretty hard to deal with, but..." She pauses. "After I left him, I found out he'd been shagging this girl in town. Some patient. I could've gone to the authorities about it and probably ruined his career, but I figured I didn't want that on my conscience. I just..." She shrugs. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just wanted you to know that I don't regret leaving him. It was fun while it lasted, but I guess it never could have lasted forever. He's too repressed, you know? He keeps everything inside."

  I nod.

  "I guess that's why things didn't work out with him," she adds.

  "We were taught to keep things inside when we were children," I tell her. "It's just the way things were with our parents."

  "Say hi to him, though," she continues, clearly not keen to get into a deep conversation right now. "If you talk to him, I mean. I hope he's doing okay." As her friends call over to her, she starts putting her shoes back on. "It's weird how things work out sometimes," she adds as she gets to her feet. "We're going to eat and then maybe head to another bar. You're welcome to join us -"

  "No," I say quickly. "No, it's fine. I'm just..."

  She stares at me, waiting for me to finish.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" she asks after a moment. "Don't get me wrong, Kate, but you look..." She pauses, and there's a look of concern in her eyes that actually seems genuine. "I can blow my friends off," she continues. "Maybe you and I can get a drink and -"

  I shake my head.

  "But are you okay to be out like this?" she adds.

  "I'm fine," I reply, holding back the tears.

  She stares at me, and it's clear that she's not convinced.

  "It was good to see you again," I tell her. "I always wondered... I mean, you know... You were almost part of the family for a while..."

  "Yeah," she replies, clearly realizing that things are a little awkward and that she doesn't need to get involved in this mess. "I should go, but have a great evening, okay?" She gathers her coat and bag, and there's an awkward silence as she gets ready to leave.

  "Kelly," I say as she hurries over to her friends, "do you mind if I ask you one other thing?"

  She turns back to me. "Sure. What's up?"

  "It's about John," I continue. "I was just wondering... In all the time you were together, did he ever mention anything weird about the house where we grew up?"

  "Weird?" she replies. "Like what?"

  "Like..." I pause, and although I feel dumb for even asking, I figure this is my last chance. "Did he ever say anything about seeing or hearing things there? Was there anything that bothered him, or that he seemed not to understand?"

  "No," she replies. "He did say that you and Ellen used to talk about ghosts sometimes when you were kids, but he said that was just, you know... kid stuff." She smiles awkwardly. "Sorry. Why do you ask?"

  "You came and stayed a few times," I continue, figuring I should try a different approach. "Did you ever have anything happen there that seemed weird?"

  "Like bumps in the night?" she asks.

  "Anything."

  "Nope," she replies. "It was a nice old house. I get that it could maybe be a bit spooky at times, but nothing ever happened while I was there. I mean, I don't really think I believe in ghosts anyway. The stories can be fun and kinda freaky, but I don't think there are actual... you know, ghosts and stuff."

  "Nothing at all?" I ask.

  "Nothing."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  I nod, even though it's not the answer I was hoping for. I guess I was hoping she'd say something that might validate all my fears, but either she was spared the ghost's attention, or the ghost was never really there at all. I'm almost thirty years old and suddenly I'm starting to wonder if I was wrong all that time.

  There was no ghost.

  Not in the house, and not in my bathtub.

  Just in my head, and Ellen's.

  "I really should go," Kelly adds. "It was great seeing you, though. Say hi to everyone for me, okay? And take care of yourself. I mean that."

  "Sure," I reply as she heads off after her friends.

  Standing alone for a moment, I try to get my head around the idea that John apparently never saw or heard anything weird in that house, and neither did Kelly or Luke. The list of people who were untroubled by the house is growing, which makes me wonder if I've had it wrong all this time. I've always been convinced that despite his silence on the subject, John was simply internalizing his fears, but now I have to wonder if he was just unaware of what was happening. Even worse, I guess there's a possibility that the whole thing was something that Ellen and I managed to cook up between us. What if there were never any ghosts? What if the house was just a house?

  What if Ellen and I were just crazy the whole time?

  Chapter Three

  Kate

  By 2am, I've reached the edge of the city and I find myself drawn toward the river. I shouldn't be here, of course, but I can't go back to my apartment, and at least I've managed to get away from the crowds that are still flooding through the city streets.

  I switch my phone on and find that, just as I'd feared, Luke tried to call me after our conversation earlier. I don't know if he's being deliberately dense, or if he genuinely doesn't get it, but he just seems to want to talk at all the wrong moments. Then again, I'm probably being very demanding. He'll be better off without me; he just doesn't know it yet.

  I stare at his number for a moment, wondering whether I should call him back, but I figure he's probably asleep by now and the last thing he needs is for me to start being a bitch again. I bring up Ellen's number instead, and as I wait for her to pick up, I shiver as a cold blast of wind slams into me. It's a cold night and only an idiot would be out like this down by the river, but there's nowhere else for me to go.

  I keep thinking of that woman in the bath. Even if there's a chance she's real, I can't go back.

  "Hey," Ellen says as she picks up the phone, although the wind seems to be interfering with the signal. She sounds a little wired, but that's kind of par for the course with my sister. "What's up? I was just thinking about calling you."

  "I just..."

  Pausing, I realize that I have no idea why I called her. I guess I just wanted to call someone, and she was the most obvious choice. Ellen and I have this connection that just seems to click, and I guess it's due to the fact that we went through so much together when we were children. Then again, I'm starting to wonder if our closeness might actually have been a terrible mistake.

  "Kate?" she continues. "Are you okay?"

  "Did it ever occur to you that we were wrong?" I ask suddenly.

  There's silence on the other end of the line for a moment, although I can hear a hint of static in the background.

  "About the house," I continue. "Did you ever think that maybe we were just completely wrong all the time? Like, fundamentally mistaken about the whole thing and just winding each other up?"

  "What are you talking about?" she asks.

  "We were kids," I reply. "We were impressionable, and we didn't have many friends. We spent all our time in that house, and Mum and Dad were useless, so we kind of retreated into ourselves." I pause for a moment as I wait for the knot of ideas and impressions to straighten themselves out in my mind. "It's normal for kids to do stuff like that," I continue, "but normally they stop when they get older. We didn't. We carried on letting all this bullshit ruin our lives, and we enabled each other."

  I wait for her to reply.

  "Ellen?" I ask eventually.

  A few seconds later, I hear a series of sniffs and I realize that she's crying.

  "Jesus
," I mutter, "I'm sorry. Don't get upset, okay?"

  More sniffs.

  "I'm just trying to be honest," I continue. "I just started thinking about it tonight, and it occurred to me that this is an explanation that we kind of never really considered. What if we just... wrong?"

  I wait for her to reply, but she just continues to sniff. Although I know I should fill the gap, I feel as if I need to hear what she thinks, so I decide to stick it out. For a couple of minutes, I stand shivering and listen to her occasional sniffs, as if she's quietly crying and can't bring herself to reply to me.

  "I don't know why you're saying all this," she says eventually, her voice sounding much quieter than usual. "Kate, we both know what happened -"

  "Maybe we don't," I say firmly. "Maybe we just encouraged each other to go crazy. Then, and maybe even now..."

  "I saw things," she replies. "Kate, we both saw and heard things -"

  "We were wrong," I tell her, with tears in my eyes as I stare ahead at the dark river. "We got worked up over nothing, and we were just... idiots. We were childish idiots who strung out a pathetic game for way too long."

  "Don't say things like that," she replies. "Kate, where are you? Can we meet?"

  I shake my head, even though I know she can't see me.

  "Kate," she continues, more urgently this time, "can we meet?"

  "No," I reply.

  "Where are you?" she asks.

  "I'm at my apartment."

  "It sounds like you're outside."

  "I've got the window open."