by Amy Cross
“You didn't know about her history,” Lizzie told me. “It's not your fault!”
Ignoring her, I hurried around the side of the house and tried the back door, which turned out to also be locked. Spotting the shovel nearby, I picked it up and raised it above my head, before bringing it crashing down to break one of the windows.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lizzie shouted as she reached me.
“Call the cops if you want,” I replied, knocking a few more pieces of glass out of the frame before hauling myself up and climbing inside. As I dropped down onto the kitchen floor, I realized that I'd just broken the same window that the hand had been scratching during the previous night, but there was no time to think about that now. All that mattered was Rachel. I hurried forward, only to bump against the counter, and then I made my way across the pitch-black kitchen.
Behind me, Lizzie was already climbing through the broken window to join me.
“Rachel!” I shouted as I reached the hallway and looked up the stairs. “Rachel, where are you?”
I waited, but the only sound came from the walls. The beetles seemed louder than ever, scuttling through every gap they could find, and a moment later Lizzie came through to join me.
“What's that noise?” she asked.
“Bugs,” I replied, as I started making my way up the stairs. “The whole place is infested. Wasn't it like that when you were younger?”
“There were one or two, but not like this! Jesus, this place has really gone to the dogs!”
“Rachel's uncle moved to the village, didn't he?” I asked.
“In the last few years, yeah. Said he'd had enough of living all by himself in this empty old place.”
“I don't blame him for that,” I muttered.
Reaching the landing, I had to feel my way along the dark corridor. My hands brushed against a couple of beetles that had emerged through holes in the wall, but I knew I had to keep going.
“Rachel!” I called out, counting the doors until I finally reached the room where we'd been sleeping. Finding the door closed, I fumbled for the handle and managed to get it open. “Rachel!” I shouted as I entered the room. “Wake up!”
As soon as I reached the bed, I saw that there was no sign of her.
“She's not here,” I stammered, taking a step back as I heard footsteps hurrying closer along the corridor.
“Maybe she already left,” Lizzie suggested.
“No chance,” I replied. “She was obsessed with this place. You should have seen her, she couldn't tear herself away. She was convinced she had to find Georgette Shapley's body.” Turning, I hurried along the corridor, almost banging into the wall several times until I reached another small hallway.
“Rachel!” Lizzie was shouting in the distance. “Rachel, it's Lizzie! Rachel, where are you?”
Taking care to feel my way toward the top of the stairs, I paused for a moment, hoping against hope that I might hear Rachel calling back to us. All I heard, however, was the rustle of more beetles scurrying between the walls. I swear, the sound of their little legs scratching against the plaster was almost enough to drive me crazy. As I looked around the dark room, I realized I was avoiding looking directly at the windows, as if my subconscious mind was still scared that I might see the face again.
“Where are you, Rachel?” I whispered, forcing myself to go over and look outside. Rain was still lashing down, and I could barely see the treeline at the far end of the lawn. I'd assumed there was no way Rachel would be out there in such bad weather, still digging in an attempt to find Georgette's body, but finally I realized that maybe in her madness she really wasn't going to let anything stop her.
Turning, I began to feel my way toward the top of the stairs.
“Please be okay,” I said out loud, still trying not to panic. “Come on, Rachel. You have to -”
“Who's there?” Lizzie shouted suddenly in the distance. “Stop!”
Hurrying along the corridor, I heard a bump from somewhere else in the house.
“James!” Lizzie called out, sounding more panicked than before. “I think there's someone else here! I saw a shadow!”
Fumbling to feel my way through the darkness, I reached the corridor and began to make my way along.
“Say something!” I shouted to Lizzie. “I can't find you!”
A moment later, I saw a patch of bright light in the middle of the corridor, and I realized she was using her phone to light the way. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled my phone out and brought up the flashlight app, and finally as I reached Lizzie I was able to see her terrified face.
“There's definitely someone here,” she whispered. “Whoever it was, they vanished as soon as they knew I'd seen them, but...” She paused for a moment, her eyes wide with fear. “All I saw was the silhouette, but... I might be wrong, but it didn't look like Rachel.”
“It must have been,” I told her.
“Maybe we should call for help,” she continued. “I've got a bad feeling about this. Rachel might not be herself, she might be dangerous!”
“No chance,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “Trust me, I know her. She's not violent.”
“Do you really know her?” she asked. “You had no idea about her time in hospital until I told you. You didn't know how she broke her shoulder. If she's been alone here for even just a couple of hours, she might -”
“She's not dangerous.”
“She's capable of -”
“She's not dangerous!” I said firmly. “Trust me, I know her better than you do! Rachel Shapley is not -”
Suddenly there was a loud bump further along the corridor. We both turned, holding our phones up, but the flashlight apps only lit the first few meters. The farthest end of the corridor was shrouded in darkness.
“Rachel's not well,” Lizzie whispered. “This house messed her head up when we were kids, and she's still damaged now. You can't deny it.”
“I'm not trying to,” I replied, before taking a cautious step forward. I wanted to dismiss Lizzie's concerns, to believe that there was no way Rachel could have lost her mind. At the same time, I was starting to think that once I'd left her alone in the house, there would have been nothing to hold her back, and she'd have been able to indulge her darkest and deepest fantasies. I figured maybe that was why she'd invited me in the first place, maybe she knew she needed someone to keep her sane. There'd never really been any romance in our relationship, so maybe from the very start she'd simply picked me as someone who could be useful, someone who could keep her steady.
And I'd abandoned her.
By the time I reached the top of the main staircase, I was starting to realize that by leaving her alone in the house, I'd inadvertently let her sink into an abyss of her own making.
“We have to get out of here,” Lizzie whispered. “If she's not answering us, that means -”
“Maybe she can't answer us,” I said suddenly, shining the flashlight app down the stairs. For a moment, all I could think about was the face I'd seen at the window during the previous night. No matter how hard I tried to believe that I'd imagined the whole thing, there was a part of me that had begun to wonder if Rachel might have been right all along. I'd been resisting those thoughts for so long, but now they were creeping in at the edge of my mind.
Suddenly there was a loud bump from somewhere down below. The basement, maybe.
“Go get help,” I whispered, turning to Lizzie. “Call the police, and get an ambulance too.”
“But what if -”
“I can't leave her,” I continued. “Not again. Call for help. I'm going to go and find her.”
“What if she hurts you?”
“She won't,” I replied firmly. “She won't,” I said again, as much to convince myself as to make Lizzie feel better. “And if she tries, I can look after myself. Just go!”
As she hurried down the stairs, I turned and began to make my way along another dark corridor. All around, beetles were crawling through the walls,
and their little legs were starting to drive me crazy as they scratched on the wood. By the time I got to the next corridor, I couldn't help imagining what it must have been like for Rachel to be all alone in the house. Only a few hours had passed between the moment when I got out of her car in the village square, and the moment when Lizzie and I returned to Shapley Hall, but in that time Rachel had clearly been through some kind of breakdown.
“I'll be outside,” Lizzie shouted from downstairs. “I'll call for help. Please, don't take any risks!”
“I won't,” I muttered, turning and looking along the dark corridor that led toward the far end of the house. I couldn't see a damn thing, of course, but I knew that I had to find Rachel.
I heard the sound of the front door slamming shut in the distance, as Lizzie left the house.
“Rachel?” I called out. “It's just me and you now. Can you say something?”
No reply.
I knew I should turn back, that I should take Lizzie's car and go to the village, and that I should call for help. After all, I had no idea of Rachel's condition, but I was still clinging to the belief that Rachel wasn't dangerous and that, even if she'd snapped, there was no way she'd hurt me.
Not me, not after everything we'd been through together.
“Rachel?”
Again I waited, but again there was no reply.
“It's okay,” I continued, feeling my way along the wall. A couple of times, the wallpaper seemed to be rippling, as if beetles on the other side were trying to force their way through. “Rachel, you just need to let me help you. Everything's going to be fine, there's no need to be scared, but first you have to -”
Suddenly I heard a loud bump from somewhere up ahead. I paused for a moment, trying to remind myself that Rachel would never hurt me.
Reaching the next corridor, I put a hand on the wall and noticed that I was trembling. For a moment, I thought back to the sight of Georgette Shapley's face at the window. There was still a part of me that insisted she hadn't really been there, that I'd imagined the whole thing, but that part was drowned out now by pure fear. Still, I tried to focus on calm, rational thoughts.
“There's no such thing as ghosts,” I whispered, making my way through the darkness as the walls rustled all around me. “There can't be.”
Ahead, another bump indicated that someone was definitely nearby.
I paused for a moment.
“Rachel?” I called out as I looked along the pitch-black corridor.
I waited.
Silence.
“Rachel, it's me,” I continued, with a hint of desperation in my voice now. “Can we please just get out of here? This house is...” I paused, before realizing I had to be honest. “I get it,” I added. “You were right and I was wrong, and I'm sorry I doubted you, and I'll never forgive myself for leaving you here alone, but now we have to leave! We can work everything else out later, but every second we stay in this house is -”
Suddenly I heard footsteps. Firm, quick footsteps, somewhere up ahead in the darkness. There was nothing faint or doubtful about the sound. Someone was walking along the corridor, although the footsteps stopped a moment later.
I waited.
“Rachel?”
Staring ahead, I saw only a wall of darkness.
“Rachel,” I continued, taking a few steps forward, “I understand if you're angry. I get it, you brought me here to support you, to keep you from losing your mind. You trusted me and I abandoned you. If I could go back and change my decision, I would, but we have to focus on the future.”
Reaching out, I half expected to feel Rachel's shoulder in the darkness, but instead my fingers merely brushed against the wall. My heart was pounding, and I had to keep reminding myself that there was no way Rachel would ever hurt me.
When I got to the next corner, I looked along and saw the faint outline of a window several meters away, with rain pouring down outside.
“Rachel?” I called out, turning to look back over my shoulder. “Rachel, this is crazy, can you just come to me?” I waited, before looking back at the window. “Rachel, you have to -”
Stopping suddenly, I saw that there was now a figure silhouetted against the window, standing perfectly still. From this distance, it was impossible to tell for sure whether the figure was looking at me or staring out the window, but after a moment I saw that it seemed almost too large to be Rachel, too broad-shouldered and tall, and yet...
It had to be her.
I told myself she was just standing a little differently.
After all, she'd done something like this before, on our first night in Shapley Hall. Despite the fear in my gut, I told myself that she was just trying to trick me again.
“It's me,” I told her, trying to sound calm as I stepped closer. “Rachel, it's James. Whatever happened here, we're going to take care of it. I came back, see? I should never have left you, but I came back. That counts for something, doesn't it? At least I -”
Stopping after a couple more meters, I hesitated for a moment. I was still trying to persuade myself that the figure really was Rachel, although now I could see that the frame and body-shape were all wrong, that the physical difference was too great. Something seemed to be wriggling across the figure's shoulders, too, and I realized after a moment that scores of beetles were crawling up the neck and onto the head.
He had his back to me.
And in the glass of the window, I could just about make out the reflection of a face.
Not Rachel's face.
It was the man from the painting downstairs.
Edward Shapley's face.
He was watching the lawn, but after a moment his reflected eyes flicked to look directly at me.
Filled with panic, I turned and began to run through the darkness, heading back to the top of the stairs. I crashed into the wall several times and quickly lost my bearings. My left arm was starting to hurt and there was a crushing sensation in my chest, but I kept running until finally I slammed into one of the cabinets, knocking it over and falling. I landed hard on the cabinet's side as it smashed, and I scrambled through broken glass before stumbling onward through the maze of pitch-black corridors.
Gasping, I felt the tightening sensation getting stronger and stronger in my chest, until I had to stop for a moment and try to get my breath back. Sweat was pouring down my face, and in my mind's eye I could only see Edward's face, as if somehow he was still watching me. When I turned and looked back along the corridor, however, I saw only darkness. I fumbled for my phone, but it was long gone.
“Rachel!” I shouted. “Rachel, where are you? What did he do to you?”
Reaching the top of the stairs, I paused for a moment, trying to find the strength to keep going. My chest felt so tight, I could barely get any air into my lungs and my head was starting to feel light, but I began to carefully make my way down the steps one at a time.
“Rachel,” I gasped, almost falling as my knees began to give way. “Where are you? Rachel, what -”
Suddenly I slipped, tumbling down the staircase until I slammed into the floor at the bottom. I managed to roll onto my back, but the pain in my chest was too strong and too tight. After a moment, I realized I could hear firm, steady footsteps upstairs, as if the ghost of Edward Shapley was coming after me. I told myself that ghosts weren't real, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop hearing the footsteps.
“Rachel...” I stammered. “Please... “What have you done to Rachel?”
All around, beetles were crawling onto my body. Brushing them off, I got to my feet and started staggering toward the front door, before stopping as soon as I saw the door to the basement. Every fiber in my body was screaming at me to get out of the house, but I'd abandoned Rachel once and I knew I couldn't do it again.
“There are no ghosts here,” I said out loud, in an attempt to calm my fears. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”
Still, I could hear footsteps above, getting closer to the top of the stairs.
Suddenly, I heard another loud bump from beneath the floorboards, which was all the proof I needed now to know that Rachel was definitely down there. Reaching the door, I reached out and turned the handle, and sure enough it swung open easily. A moment later, I heard another loud bump from the darkness beneath the house. Whatever Rachel was doing down there, it sounded as if she was clattering about. Even though I wanted to turn and go with Lizzie, to wait for help to arrive, I felt a resounding sense of responsibility after leaving Rachel alone, so I began to make my way down.
Almost immediately, my foot brushed against something on one of the steps. Looking down, I spotted a small patch of light, and I realized I'd found a phone. When I picked it up, I saw from the lock-screen that it belonged to Lizzie.
I waited, staring down the dark steps.
“Lizzie?” I called out. “Are you still here?”
No reply.
After just a few steps into the cold air, I realized that there were more beetles than ever, this time crawling across the surface of the walls. Their little antennae seemed to be quivering as light from Lizzie's phone bathed them in a cool, ethereal electric glow, but I had no time to stop and find another way down, so I kept going, even though I felt and heard small crunches with each step that I took.
Finally I reached the bottom of the steps and saw the old, repaired wooden door hanging open. The same door that Rachel had insisted we keep shut. The same door she'd broken through as a child, ruining her shoulder.
The light from Lizzie's phone picked out only the door-frame, and the room beyond was still shrouded in darkness.
Taking a step forward, I looked down and saw scores of beetles scurrying all over the floor. A moment later, one dropped from the ceiling and landed on the back of my neck, and I took a moment to shake it off.
Reaching the door, I stopped for a few seconds.
The air was much colder now.
“Rachel?” I whispered.
