by Amy Cross
Tick tock.
It's time.
I turn and look across the basement. To be honest, I keep expecting to find that the thin-faced man has come back to watch me, but there's no sign of him. All I see is Holly's sleeping form and, a little further away, Elizabeth's. I'm sure that when Elizabeth screams, Holly will jump up and try to stop me, so I have to make sure I get this right the first time. Better yet, I need to stifle the screams, so that we don't attract the attention of the man upstairs. I have no idea how he'll feel about me killing Elizabeth, and I'm worried that he might become angry. He might even blame me. After all, I don't know if he's aware of the thin-faced man's existence.
Sighing, I realize that there's no point delaying this moment any longer. I start crawling across the floor, taking extra care to ensure that I don't make a noise. As I pass Holly, I pause to listen to the sound of her breathing. Sometimes I see tears in Holly's eyes, which I guess is natural. After all, she probably has a family somewhere out there, and she wants to get back to them. Sometimes I wonder if, one day, we'll find a way out of this place. Will we all still be friends in the real world? Holly seems nice, and I'd like to get to know her better. She seems to be sleeping calmly right now, though, so I move on, getting closer to Elizabeth.
Above, there's a creaking sound as he walks across the floorboards. Doesn't he ever sleep? For a moment, I'm seized with a fear that he'll wake us up, or that he'll demand that one of us goes up there. After a moment, however, the noise seems to pass. I have no idea what he's doing up there, but clearly it doesn't involve us. I can't help but fantasize about having a much bigger knife and ramming it up through the ceiling, impaling him on the blade as he walks across his kitchen. God, can't you make this knife much bigger? Please?
I wait.
The knife doesn't get bigger. It just stays small and cold in my hand.
Time.
I make my way over to Elizabeth and lean close to check that she's asleep. Suddenly this whole thing feels so much more real. The thought of actually pressing a knife against her neck and then forcing it through her skin, and then gouging deep enough to cut her jugular, is horrifying. The peace and quiet of the basement is about to be shattered. There'll be screams, and Holly will pull me away, and then there'll be the moment of death itself. Then we'll have to deal with the body, and get rid of the blood, and eventually we'll be left alone, just the two of us, and Holly will have to come to terms with the consequences of what I've done. All this drama and emotion, and I'm the one who's going to unleash it.
I hold the knife out, ready to strike. The only sound comes from my own mouth: I'm breathing fast, almost gulping for air. The best thing to do is to simply ram the knife into her neck and then rip through the flesh. Maybe I should try to take her head off. There's nothing stopping me. I can -
Suddenly I realize that there's a sound coming from Elizabeth's face. I pause for a moment, my heart racing, as I realize that her breathing is hurried and stressed. Leaning closer, I realize that she's quietly sobbing. At first, I assume that she must have realized I'm here, but then I see that one of her hands is gently moving near her face. It's hard to work out exactly what's happening, since it's so dark down here and the light of the moon doesn't reach this far back, but eventually I see that her hand is stroking some kind of small white object. It takes me a few more seconds to realize that she has a little pile of bones, none of them more than an inch or two long, and she's sobbing as she runs her hands tenderly along their length. They're definitely not the bones that the man has been removing from our legs. These are other bones, but I don't know where they came from. There's no other source of bones down here.
I open my mouth to ask her what she's doing, but then I pause. Maybe I don't want to know. Either way, suddenly my plan to kill her seems to be coming undone.
"What are you waiting for?" the thin-faced man whispers in my ear. "She's right there."
I adjust my grip on the knife. For some reason, this seemed so much easier when I thought she was asleep. Now that she's awake, and sobbing, I feel as if I can't go through with the final act.
"Are you really this weak?" the thin-faced man asks. "Just because a few crocodile tears are rolling down her face, you think she's worthy of pity? Does she show you pity when she argue with Holly? Does she show you pity when she treats you like a child?"
I sit in silence for a moment, as Elizabeth continues to sob.
"Do it," he hisses. "You don't need three of you down here. You just need two. Two's a much safer number."
I take another deep breath. Why is he so keen for me to kill Elizabeth?
"Think about the way she treats you," he continues. "Sometimes I think she sees you as a child. Sometimes it's even worse, like you're a dog. She'll never listen to you or take you seriously. As long as she's around, you'll always be the little fool around here. You can't stand up to her, you can't argue with her, so why don't you do the only thing that can possibly end your misery? Kill her. She's no use to you anyway."
"Maybe he's right," Elizabeth whispers suddenly.
I freeze.
Slowly, she turns and looks at me, her eyes filled with tears. "What are you waiting for?" she continues, with a sense of determination in her voice. "You've got the knife. I'm not going to fight you off. Why haven't you done it already?" She reaches up and loosens her collar, revealing more of her neck. "There you go. There's nothing stopping you now. Why don't you drive that blade into my neck?" She pauses. "Come on, Natalie. Why are you waiting? Do it!"
Shaking my head, I pull back.
"Weakling," Elizabeth whispers.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly.
"You can't even do one thing right, can you?" she continues, with tears in her eyes. "You're just a stupid little girl who wants other people to do everything for her."
"I'm disappointed," says the thin-faced man. "I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Natalie. I really thought you could go through with it this time."
"Me too," Elizabeth continues.
"You can hear him?" I ask. Elizabeth has never acknowledged the thin-faced man before. I thought he only appeared to me.
"Of course I can," she replies. "I'm not deaf. He's always been here, even back before you arrived. Always whispering in my ear, telling me to do things. I ignore him, but maybe that's a mistake. Maybe one of us should finally do what he suggests. So go on, Natalie. Take that knife and use it." Without warning, she reaches out and grabs my hand, and then she tries to pull the knife closer. "It's what you want," she hisses. "It's what you've always wanted, so get it over with. Just promise not to torture me. I don't want pain!"
"No!" I shout, pulling my hand away so fast that the knife flies across the room and lands loudly over by the sink.
"What the hell was that?" Holly asks, sitting up.
"You fucking idiot!" Elizabeth shouts at me.
"What are the bones?" I ask, looking down at the fragile little bones she's been holding.
"What bones?"
"The ones in your hand."
"Get away from me!" she shouts. "I've had enough of your stupidity for one night! I don't even want to see your miserable face, so get out of my sight! Do you think I've got nothing better to do than babysit the village idiot?"
"Let me see," I say, reaching past and grabbing some of the bones. Elizabeth tries to pull them away from me, and one of them snaps as it drops to the ground.
"Now look what you've done," she says, pushing me away before she starts sorting through the bones again. "You've ruined one of them."
"What are you doing over there?" Holly asks, hurrying toward us.
"Just leave me alone!" Elizabeth shouts. "Both of you! Leave me alone! Please! I don't need your help! I don't want it! Just go away!"
Holly holds back, looking shocked.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, turning to find that there's no sign of the thin-faced man anywhere in the basement. I don't know where he's gone, but I guess his work here is done. He's caused an arg
ument, and now we're at each other's throats again.
"What happened?" Holly asks me quietly, as we watch Elizabeth continuing to deal with the remains of the bones.
"Did you see him?" I ask, still looking for the thin-faced man.
"See who?" She looks over at the steps that lead up to the metal door. "Did he come down again?"
"Not him," I reply. "The other man. The one with the thin face."
"What other man?" she asks, with a look of alarm on her face. "You said there's only one. You said it's just one man up there."
"You didn't see him?" I ask, my mind racing as I try to work out what's happening. "Are you sure? He was right here. Elizabeth saw him!"
"There was no-one here," she replies.
Sighing, I realize I'm never going to be able to make her understand. Ignoring Elizabeth for a moment, I turn and hurry across the basement, desperately searching all the shadows as I look for the thin-faced man. He doesn't seem to be here, however, and eventually I realize that we're alone, at least for now.
"Natalie, what's going on?" Holly asks, heading over to me. "Who are you looking for, and what the hell is Elizabeth doing with those bones?"
I turn and look back at Elizabeth. In the five years I've been down here in the basement, Elizabeth has always been a tower of strength. She's been the calm one, the rational one, the strong one, and I've never really doubted her, not once. Suddenly she seems different, as if the cracks are showing in her soul. Watching her sorting out the pile of bones, I realize that maybe I've misunderstood her all this time. She's not normal; she's just very good at hiding her rough edges. She's weird, like me.
Taking a deep breath, I realize that maybe it's too late. After all, now that my head is clear, I realize that this wasn't the first time I've found the knife behind the sink, and it wasn't the first time I've crawled over to Elizabeth, and it wasn't the first time she's heard me and encouraged me to strike. The truth is, we do the same thing most nights. We just go round and round, locked in the same stupid little routine, and each night we pretend that it hasn't happened before. Slowly, I dip my head and look down at the floor, and tears start to flow from my eyes. Slowly, ignoring Holly's confused stare, I crawl back over to the sink and put the knife back behind the loose brick. I'm such a weak coward. Maybe next time, I should cut my own head off instead.
Natalie
Today
"Samantha Briggs isn't going to last the night," says Detective Regan as we sit in the interview room. Sighing, he checks his watch. "Something to do with her heart. Seems the human body really doesn't like being submerged in a bath of ice for a long period of time, so..." He pauses for a moment, keeping his eyes fixed on me. "What I'm going to be doing, Mr. Lawler, is I'm gonna be holding you here on suspicion of attempted murder, and then when I get the call from the hospital to say that she's passed, I'm going to turn this into a murder investigation, and then you're going to go to trial, and then eventually you're going to go and rot in prison for the rest of your life. Is that clear?"
"I didn't do anything to her," I say, trying to stay calm.
"You'll have a chance to put your case in court," he replies, clearly not believing me for a second. "If you didn't do anything, you have nothing to worry about. You can tell your story to the members of the jury. Maybe they'll believe you."
"Stranger things have happened," mutters the other detective.
"You have to listen to me," I continue, sitting forward in my chair. "I found her in the ice bath. I pulled her out. I didn't put her in the damn thing, but someone did, and you have to find that person before it's too late."
"And who might this other person be?" Regan asks. "Did you see him?"
"No, but -"
"So it's a ghost?"
"No!"
He smiles. "Your story's all over the place, Mr. Lawler. If you want my advice, I think you should get it straight before your trial. Juries tend to notice when you're making it up as you go along."
Looking down at my hands, I realize there's nothing I can say to make this guy believe what I'm saying. He's convinced that I lured Samantha out to the house on Willow Road and that I hurt her. "Why would I do all this," I say eventually, "and then take her to a hospital? Why would I incriminate myself like that?"
"I don't know," he asks calmly. "Why did you?"
"I didn't. I didn't do any of this. I saved her life."
"She's about to die."
"She shouldn't be!"
"Well," he replies with a hint of a smile, "finally we agree on something. Samantha Briggs definitely shouldn't be dying. She is, though, and that's because of you. What's up, Mr. Lawler? Couldn't you hold back? Did you just have to do it to her? And the house. Why go there? Did it give you a thrill?"
"I already explained everything to you," I say firmly, resisting the temptation to tell him to go fuck himself.
He shrugs. "And then you went back to the house after you'd been specifically told to keep away. What's wrong, Mr. Lawler? Were you checking to make sure you hadn't left anything behind that might contradict your story? Or have you got some kind of compulsion to return to the scene of the crime?"
"I was looking for..." I start to say, before realizing that once again, the truth might get me into even more trouble. "My camera," I say after a moment. "I was recording most of the time. There was a man in one of the images. Check my camera and -"
"We'll get to that," Regan replies, glancing at his watch. "Your camera's in the evidence locker, where it'll remain until it can be examined properly."
"It shows a man's face," I continue. "It shows him standing over me after I was knocked out."
"You were knocked out?" he asks with a smirk.
"Just look at the video!"
"All in good time." He turns to his colleague. "Can you go ring the hospital? See if there's any news?"
The other cop heads to the door and steps out of the room for a moment.
"Seems like you're in a hurry," I reply. "What's wrong? Isn't she dying fast enough for you?"
"I should warn you that things are gonna be tough, Mr. Lawler," Regan replies. "You could save yourself a lot of trouble by just telling us the truth right now. Maybe you need help. We can get you all the help in the world, but you've got to start by being honest." He pauses again. "Tell me what happened when you went into the house with Samantha. Did you -"
"I didn't go into the house with Samantha," I reply. "I went in after her. I already told you, she went there on her bike. You must have found her bike in the garden."
"So you arranged to meet her there."
"No!"
"What's wrong, Mr. Lawler? Can't get any women your own age?"
"Go fuck yourself."
He smiles. "Did you mean to kill her? I mean, you killed Brenda Baynes, so -"
"I never even met Brenda Baynes!" I shout, feeling as if the walls of the room are starting to close in on me. I'm being framed, and right now there doesn't seem to be a damn thing I can do about it.
"We'll see," Regan replies. "I've already pulled your phone and email records, and I'm gonna be very interested in seeing exactly what you've been up to for the past few weeks. For example, you seem to have gone on a little road trip the other day. I've seen your credit card bill. Gas stations, a motel room. Care to tell me what that was all about? Seems odd that a busy guy would take a quick vacation for no reason."
"I went to see -" I start to say, before realizing that once again I can't tell him what I've been doing. If I explain that I went to see Elizabeth Torbett, Natalie Day and Holly Carter, he'll be more convinced than ever that I'm some kind of obsessive who can't keep away from the house on Willow Road and its victims. "It's got nothing to do with any of this," I add, even though I feel as if I'm digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. "I want to talk to Joe Kukil. He used to be in charge around here. He can verify -"
"Joe Kukil was a good cop," Regan says, "until he went kind of crazy and started going on about things that weren't really any
of his business."
"Joe Kukil knows about the house."
"Joe Kukil's an old man sitting on his porch, getting off on fantasies about witches. He bought into all the crap about Willow Road. Shame. It's never nice to see an old man go senile."
He stops speaking as the door opens and the other detective hurries in. From the look on his face, I can immediately see that something's wrong. My heart sinks as I think of Samantha's dead body in a hospital bed on the other side of town.
"She dead?" Regan asks, checking his watch.
"No," the other detective replies. "Well, I don't know. She's gone. They can't find her anywhere."
Regan looks over at me, and for the first time today I can see doubt in his eyes. Up until this moment, he was convinced he had the whole case worked out.
"The bed's empty," the other detective continues, "but they've checked surveillance footage and it looks like she walked out of the hospital about half an hour ago."
"That's not possible," Regan replies.
"Where did she go?" I ask.
"She walked right out the front door," the detective says, "and she wasn't alone. Apparently the footage shows two women with her. It's like they just went into her room, woke her up, and took her away into the night."
Natalie
15 years ago
"I know why you wanted me to kill Elizabeth," I whisper, sitting alone in the corner while the others sleep.
"No," the thin-faced man says, sitting next to me. "You don't."
