by Amy Cross
"Two girls are dead," I tell her. "Another's hurt. No-one else seemed to be doing anything about it."
"Really?" she replies. "Are you sure that's your motivation? Seems very noble, but I can't help thinking that maybe there's something else going on. You're not one of those obsessives, are you? You know, if you just wanted our autographs, you could have asked."
"You're so certain, aren't you?" I say. "You're so sure that we're all wrong, but you haven't actually been out there. You haven't spoken to Samantha."
"I saw it die," she says firmly. "With my own eyes. I helped kill it, and I watched it die. We all did. The only mistake we made all those years ago is that we didn't destroy that house and we didn't salt the soil, but that doesn't mean it's still alive. It's dead. Gone. It can't come back. You seem to have forgotten that I got much closer to it than you ever did. I'm the one who ended up in the other room. I'm the one who felt its touch."
"We were wrong," Elizabeth says. "I don't know how or why, but we were wrong. That creature is still out there in the house."
Holly shakes her head.
"Then why are you here?" I ask. "Why did you come all the way back? Just to tell us that we're wrong?"
"I came to stop you stirring things up again," Holly replies. "I came to shut this thing down before you go too far. Do you have any idea how long it's taken me to get past what happened? I had to start a new life, from scratch. I had to reinvent myself."
"Is that why you ignored your family after you escaped?" I ask.
"I had to find a way to deal with the occasional idiots who'd come knocking on my door," she continues, pointedly ignoring my question, "wanting to ask me questions about the house. I had to find a way to get over something that other people keep wanting to drag up. Publishers keep coming to me, asking me to write a book. People want film rights, people write songs about it and send me copies. Artists, graphic novels, video games... Every few weeks, someone or something comes along and tries to remind me of what happened. I've found a way to deal with it, but..." She turns to Elizabeth and Natalie. "If you two idiots are determined to start everything up again, I don't know what..." Her voice trails off, and it's clear that she's struggling.
"It won't go away if we ignore it," Elizabeth says eventually.
"Then what do you want us to do?" Holly asks, raising her voice. "Go back there? You want to walk back into that house and..." She pauses, and for a moment I think I see tears in her eyes. "Is that what you want? Some kind of reunion tour? The three witches going back in to see if they can use the old magic one last time?"
"It's not about what I want," Elizabeth replies.
Walking over to the window, Holly stares out at the storm that's still lashing the town. It's clear that she understands how serious the situation has become, but she still seems determined to avoid going back to the house. I don't blame her; even with my limited understanding of exactly what happened to the three of them all those years ago, I can see why they'd be terrified of returning. Still, Elizabeth and Natalie are willing, and I think Holly will agree eventually. She just needs to get over her fear.
"And you're willing to lay down your life in order to stop this thing?" Holly asks eventually.
Elizabeth looks over at Natalie for a moment.
"Well?" Holly continues. "Are you? Because that's what'll happen."
"I'm willing to do whatever it takes," Elizabeth says.
"Me too," Natalie adds.
Holly sighs. "This Samantha girl. Is she supposed to be here right now?"
"Technically, she's missing," I reply. "She's supposed to be at the hospital, but she was dying. Elizabeth and Natalie got her out and brought her here."
"That's what I thought," Holly says, turning to me as a series of red and blue lights start flashing through the glass. "I guess that explains the police cars that just pulled up. I think you might be in a lot of trouble, Mr. Lawler."
Holly Carter
15 years ago
"You don't need the cow-poke," I say as I walk across the kitchen, with the guy following close behind. I can hear the cattle-prod humming, poised to strike me if I make any attempt to escape. It's kind of pathetic, really. If he lost that thing, or if it failed, he'd probably be completely defenseless. "I'm a good girl. You won't have to poke me with your big long tool."
He doesn't reply, of course. It's almost as if he's running on auto-pilot, going through the same routines every day and barely even having to think about it. Sometimes, I feel as if he's some kind of zombie being pushed around by an unseen master. It's certainly hard to believe that such a hulking, mindless person could have orchestrated this whole situation.
"Let's get this over with," I say as I walk up the stairs. The thought of being submerged in that ice bath again is horrifying, but I keep reminding myself over and over again that this is the last time. After today, this bastard is never going to touch me, or any of us, again. This time tomorrow, we're going to be out of here, and he's either going to be dead or behind bars. In fact, as I reach the top of the stairs and walk toward the room with the bath, I'm filled with the thought that we don't have to just escape. We could kill this bastard and burn the house down. Maybe it's wrong of me, but I want revenge. I want to make him hurt, the way he's made me hurt.
"I'm not going to fight you," I say as I reach the door. "I just -" Suddenly I notice that the bath is empty. There's no water and no ice. I stare blankly, trying to work out what's happening. There has to be an ice bath. That's what he does to people. Every time, without fail. He -
I step back as the guy reaches past me and pulls the door shut.
"Where's the..." I start to say, as my chest starts to tighten. It's almost as if someone has reached into my body and started twisting my heart. I was all set to face up to the bath and get this over with. I was ready to do this, and now suddenly I'm left wondering what he's got planned for me.
With no warning, the guy gives me a shove along the corridor.
"Where are we going?" I ask, looking ahead and seeing a couple of doors nearby, one of which is open. Elizabeth and Natalie never mentioned any other rooms. They've only ever talked about the ice bath. Turning back to look at the guy, I watch as he raises the cattle-prod. It's pretty clear that I've got no choice. I have to go to the open door at the far end.
"Okay," I say quietly, realizing that any attempt to resist will only get me a dose of pain. I make my way over to the door, but the room is completely dark and I can't see a thing in there.
When he catches up to me, the guy shoves me through the doorway. I turn just in time to see him follow me inside, and then he swings the door shut.
I wait for something to happen.
The only sound is the ominous buzz of the cattle-prod, its blue light blazing in the otherwise dark room.
"I don't know what you want me to do," I say, trying to hide the panic in my voice.
He doesn't reply.
"You want to just stand here?" I ask. "Do you want me to do something?"
After a moment, I hear him moving across the room. I turn, but there's no way I can see anything. Seconds later, he grabs my wrist and before I can react, he's fastened some kind of chain around the arm. I reach down and feel a thick metal bang around my wrist, before he takes my other wrist and does the same again. I try to pull away, but it's as if I'm bound and shackled in the middle of the room.
This is wrong.
This is different.
I wasn't prepared for this.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice cracking with fear. I thought I understood this place, but now I'm terrified. I pull on the shackles, but they seem to be attached to something on the ceiling. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you. Just tell me, whatever it is. You don't have to -"
Suddenly there's a grinding sound, as if some kind of machinery is turning above me. I look up, and after a moment I realize that the chains attacked to my manacles are starting to rise. Seconds later, I have no option but to raise my arms, and eve
ntually I'm lifted up off the floor, dangling by my wrists from some kind of contraption. I kick out, trying to find some way of getting free, but I'm slowly lifted higher and higher until eventually the machinery grinds to a halt and I'm left hanging from the ceiling. All I can see is the blue light of the cattle-prod, still buzzing far below.
"What are you doing?" I shout, still struggling to get free. "What do you -" Suddenly two hands reach around from behind my head, clamping themselves over my face. It's still too dark to see anything, of course, but I can feel two sets of thin, bony fingers slowly pressing into my flesh, as if someone is examining me. I've seen the cattle-prod guy's hands, and whereas he's well-built and stocky, these hands are definitely a little smaller and more spindly. I want to scream, but I'm almost frozen with fear as the hands start moving down my body, as if they're determined to feel every inch of me.
No matter how hard I struggle, I can't get free as the hands reach my hips and then my legs. I try to kick out, but it's useless, and eventually the hands reach my feet before starting to move back up and finally caressing my face again. It's not painful, in fact it's almost tender, but it still feels as if I'm being examined by some kind of creature. Finally, the hands slip off my face and I'm left hanging alone in the dark again. Tears are streaming down my face, but I'm terrified to move in case the hands come back.
With no warning, the machinery starts up again and I feel myself slowly being winched back down. I can barely even breathe as I reach the floor, and my knees buckle until finally I'm hunched over.
I wait.
And wait.
Silence all around me.
The only thing I can see is the light of the cattle-prod, indicating that the guy is standing a few meters away. Slowly, his footsteps move further away, until finally the door opens and he steps outside. I try to follow, but the chains hold me in place as the doors swings shut again. Terrified and barely able to think straight, it takes me a moment to realize that he's just left the room.
"Come back!" I shout, trying to get free from the manacles. "You can't leave me here! You have to come back!" I struggle harder, determined to slip loose. I feel as if my wrists are almost able to get out from the metal rings, but I just can't quite make it work. Unable to contain the panic that's rising through my body, I struggle harder and harder, and I can feel my skin tearing against the metal. Finally, completely exhausted but still filled with terror, I pause for a moment, sitting silently in the darkness.
I listen for any sign of movement.
Anything at all.
There's nothing.
And then there's something.
It's slow at first, and high above, but it sounds like a kind of scratching sound. It's almost as if someone or something is scratching a piece of wood. I stare up into the darkness, as the scratching moves directly above me. I want to scream for help, but there's a part of me that's clinging to the hope that somehow, whatever's up there doesn't actually know that I'm here. The last thing I want to do is to draw attention to myself.
Suddenly there's a heavy thud nearby and the floor vibrates a little, as if something has fallen off the ceiling and landed next to me. Instinctively, I crawl away until I bump into the wall, at which point I turn and stare into the darkness. I can hear the scratching sound again, but this time it's closer and it's down here rather than being up on the ceiling.
I open my mouth, ready to say something, but no words come out. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the dull ache in my left shoulder is getting worse and worse. "Go away," I say eventually, my voice sounding harsh and raspy. "I swear, if you come anywhere near me, I'll..." I pause, as I realize that my threats are empty. There's nothing I can do. Desperately, I kick out at the darkness, but I don't connect with anything. For a moment, it occurs to me that this might be all in my mind. Is it possible that my fear has caused me to imagine things?
The scratching sound comes a little closer, moving around to my left. I try to kick in its direction, but I still don't manage to hit anything.
"I swear to God," I say breathlessly, "if you come anywhere near me, I'll kill you. Do you understand?" I wait for a response. "Do you hear me?" I shout.
The sound comes closer, and again I kick out without any success. I crawl away from the noise, but eventually my chains become too tight. I try moving in another direction, but it's hopeless; I'm still attached to the winch that took me up to the ceiling, and while I can keep going around in circles, there's no way I can actually get free.
"Let me out of here!" I scream, lunging forward but only getting a couple of feet before the chains hit their limit and I'm yanked back. Feeling something brush my shoulder, I turn and stare into the darkness, and then I feel the sensation again. It's as if someone is tapping me, but I can't see or hear anyone. Even the scratching sound seems to have stopped.
"If you let me out," I say, lowering my voice, "I'll give you anything you want. Anything. I swear, if you just let me go... Please, just tell me what you want."
Silence.
"Please."
Silence.
"Tell me!" I shout, before I feel the tapping sensation again. I turn, but there's still nothing to see apart from darkness. I know there's something in here with me, but I don't know what it is or what it wants. I don't even know if it actually tapped me on the shoulder, or if I imagined that part. What I do know, however, is that my shoulder and left arm are hurting more and more, and the dull pain that I've felt for a couple of days is starting to get worse. "Just tell me what you want," I whimper. "Just tell me. I don't care anymore. Just tell me and I'll give it to you. Or kill me. If that's what you want, then get it over with."
I wait.
"What are you waiting for?" I ask. "Are you enjoying this? Do you like making me suffer?"
There's no reply. Nothing but silence all around me. Not even the scratching sound. And then, finally, something slowly grabs hold of my hair from behind and starts pulling me back.
Ben Lawler
Today
"Mr. Lawler!" Detective Regan shouts, banging on the door again. "I know you're in there, and I have reason to believe you have Samantha Briggs with you! If you don't open this door immediately, I'll be forced to use force. I'm giving you one last chance to come peacefully."
"I thought you said you'd dealt with this," I hiss at Elizabeth.
"I said we'd distracted them," she replies. "I didn't say it'd last forever."
Stirring on the sofa, Samantha looks over at the door. She still seems groggy, which I guess is to be expected after everything that's happened to her over the past few days. I wanted to protect her, and to keep everyone safe from the evil that still lives in the house on Willow Road, but I can't help wondering whether I've inadvertently dragged Samantha into something far more dangerous than I anticipated.
"Mr. Lawler!" Detective Regan shouts. "Let me be clear, I know you're in there and I know you have Samantha! This is your last chance to comply before I authorize reasonable force!"
"Open the door," Elizabeth says.
"Are you serious?" I ask.
"If you don't, they will," she continues. "I think the time for hiding is over."
"They'll arrest me," I tell her, "and you. They'll take Samantha again. She's not safe with them."
"Just open the door," she replies, before glancing over at Holly and Natalie. "We'll do the rest."
Hearing a banging sound outside, I realize it's now or never. The last thing I want is to open the door, but I figure I need to put my trust in Elizabeth and the others; reluctantly, I make my way across the room, remove the latch and pull the door wide open, just in time to come face to face with a group of cops holding a battering ram.
"It's okay," I say, holding my hands up as I step back. "I'm here. You can come in."
"Ben Lawler," Regan says, stepping past the cops as he approaches me, "you're under arrest for the abduction and attempted murder of -" He stops speaking as he notices the others in the room. "Okay, who are -" H
e pauses again, and I see a moment of recognition as he realizes who he's dealing with.
"You have to listen to us," I say. "Just let us explain what's happening -"
"Samantha," Regan says, hurrying over to the sofa and grabbing her hand, "you have to get out of here right now."
"I'm not -" Samantha starts to say.
"Right now!" Regan shouts, pulling her from the sofa and manhandling her to the door, where several cops are waiting with their guns drawn.
"Don't worry," Elizabeth says as Samantha is led away, "she'll be okay."
"Mr. Lawler," Regan says, stepping toward me, "you're under arrest. The rest of you are also going to be taken to the station on suspicion of aiding and abetting a kidnapper. You'll be provided with an attorney if you don't have one." He removes a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "Mr. Lawler, I'm going to ask you to turn around."
"This isn't necessary," I say, stepping back.
"Turn around!" he shouts. At that moment, there's a bright blue flash from his hands and he lets out a pained cry as the handcuffs drop to the floor, with smoke rising from the metal.
Before I can react, half a dozen cops come storming into the room, pointing guns at us while Regan looks down at his scalded hands.
"What the hell was that?" one of the cops shouts.
"I don't know," Regan says, his voice trembling, "just -"
Before he can finish the sentence, the cops' guns all do the same thing as the handcuffs: they flash with a bright blue light, causing the cops to drop them and step back.
"You're getting in our way," Elizabeth says, stepping toward the cops as they retreat to the door. "We've got things to do, and we don't have time to deal with you, so I think the best thing would be if you all just go to sleep." As the words leave her mouth, the cops drop to the floor, as if they've all simultaneously fainted. "There," Elizabeth says, turning to me with a smile. "Sometimes the more direct approach is necessary."
"What did you do to them?" I ask, as Regan backs against a nearby wall with a look of terror on his face.
