He shot off, back in to the kitchen, leaving me frustrated. My head was spinning with the mixture of alcohol and questions. Why were we here? Had I really seen someone out of the window? What happened to the two children? I stood up and moved towards the kitchen. The picture caught my attention, as I moved closer to it.
My breath caught in my throat. No, it couldn’t be, could it? I could feel the panic rising again. Stop being an idiot, I thought, trying to quell my rising doubt. The familiarity between the girl in the picture and whatever I thought I had seen upstairs was uncanny. It was just the drink playing tricks on me, I was sure of it. I would’ve looked like a complete idiot if I’d starting telling everyone that I had seen a girl from a portrait, that was way over a hundred years old. All I wanted was to be with Justin and have a good time.
I wandered over to the kitchen to see if he needed a hand. The two glasses that we had been using were sitting on the table alone; Justin was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to the toilet, I mused, as I cleared away. God knows why I was bothering; the place was a bomb site. Upstairs I could hear a lot of bumps and people moving around, which I assumed was Chelsea and Tim doing their thing. At least somebody was getting some!
I walked over to one of the grime stained windows. It was completely black over the valley; the only trees I could see, were the ones closest to the house. They looked like statuesque guards, watching over the road leading up to the house, swaying in the wind that was picking up to a gale, its maniacal howl whipping through the cracks in the walls. The whole setting looked like something out of a nightmare. I desperately hoped that the morning wouldn't be too long in coming.
On the way back to the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. The piercing scream filled the house, causing my stomach to drop. The dread that had been rising in me all night became real. I felt sick. That wasn't the wind howling.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, bolting for the stairs.
***
I ran as fast as I could towards the sound of the scream. My heart was racing, the blood pumping a loud beat in my ears. I had known all along that something bad was going to happen to one of us; no one had ever stayed in the house without somebody coming to some sort of harm. People had died here. Nathan tried to warn me. I remember praying as hard as I could that it was nothing serious.
When I reached the top of the stairs, Chelsea was huddled in one corner of the hallway opposite the bathroom, her head tucked between her knees. She was rocking backwards and forwards.
“No, no, no it can't be.”
“Chelsea what happened?” I asked, running over to her. “Where’s Tim?”
“He just went to the bathroom. He was gone ages. I was waiting for him, but he never came back. No, oh my God, no.”
“Chelsea you need to calm down. Where’s Tim?”
Still she continued to babble. I shook her violently by the shoulders. Justin came bounding up the stairs.
“What the hell’s happened here? Is she okay?” He asked, a look of concern mixed with fear on his face.
“I don't know. She won't stop. Please Justin, try and find Tim. All I could get out of her was that he went to the bathroom.”
“Okay, I’ll check.”
Justin dashed off to the bathroom, calling out Tim’s name. I heard no answer, so I just sat attempting to calm my friend down. She sobbed hard into her lap. God knows what had happened, but I vouched we wouldn't be staying much longer; as soon as Justin found Tim, we would be getting the hell out and never coming back. With any luck, I hoped, Tim would’ve just passed out in the toilet due to drinking too much. But then why was Chelsea crying?
“Rach, come quick,” Justin called from inside the bathroom.
I left her to rock back and forth and made my way there. With every step I took, the fear inside me rose like hot air. The walls seemed to close in on me; the corridor appeared longer than I remembered. Justin stood in the doorway, a grim look plastered over his face.
“Don’t go in there,” he urged, trying to block the entrance.
I ignored him and pushed past, a morbid need to see for myself overpowering my better judgement. I took a sharp breath then puked.
Tim’s lifeless body swung limply on a rope, attached to an exposed beam in the ceiling, a puddle of blood gathering beneath his feet. His eyes had been gouged out and his lips cut in to a permanent smile. His chest looked like a tiger had been playing games on it. Behind the body, was a dripping message scrawled in blood along the wall.
Get out! Get out! Get out!
Justin just about caught me before I fainted.
“Are you alright?”
“I told you this place isn’t right.” Tears started to form under my eyes, the sobs tumbled from my body. The shock had drained me. “I told you I saw something, but no one would listen. N-N-Now Tim’s dead.”
The two of us stood there for a few moments, surrounded by the horror until I managed to compose myself a little. “We have to call the police.”
“And say what? A ghost murdered our friend? No, we’d just be laughed at. Anyway, there’s no signal out here.”
“What the hell are we going to do?” I screamed at him, letting my fear take control. All I could see in my mind was the doll’s face. Tim reminded me of them. “It was the girl, the one from the picture, she did this!”
“You need to calm down and get a grip,” Justin explained, taking me by the shoulders. “Go downstairs and get the car started, I’ll get Chelsea. We need to get out of here as fast as we can, then we can figure out what to tell the cops.”
I stopped crying and looked deep in to his eyes. He was so brave and strong. His strength calmed me to the point where everything felt like a dream, even though I knew it wasn’t. I was glad he was here.
“Rachel, go,” Justin said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I did as I was told and made my way back downstairs, listening to my friend’s sobs coming from the bedroom. Nothing seemed real. Anytime now I would wake up to the sunshine pouring through my bedroom window, my mother, calling me from the kitchen as she cooked bacon and eggs.
I pinched my arm at the bottom of the stairs. Nothing happened; still I was stuck in a nightmare that I thought would never end.
If it was possible, the house seemed colder, darker than it had before. Every shadow, every creak could have been dangerous to me. I had never felt so frightened in all my life, as I approached the front door. I put out my hand, turned the knob to open it.
It wouldn't move. I turned it again. Still nothing. My breath was coming out in bursts, my heart hammering hard against the prison of my chest. I couldn’t budge it, no matter how hard I pushed and pulled at it. The relentless howling of the wind continued through the hills, adding its horrific chorus to the nature of the night. My fists pounded as hard as they could, but the door just rattled in its rotting frame. We were trapped.
I dashed over to a nearby window to see if anything had blown in front of the door, blocking off the exit.
Standing next to the swing was a small girl, her jet black hair blowing wildly in the wind giving it a life of its own. There was no mistaking it this time. It was the girl from the picture, her lifeless eyes staring straight at me. She was pointing to the upstairs. The ghost of Lilly had sealed off the house, only for us to become her playthings; that was until she decided she no longer wanted us.
Several moments passed before I could even think about moving; my brain had shut down from everything that was happening. When my body did decide to move, I ran for the stairs to tell Justin that we were trapped. The sight of the girl and our current predicament, had calmed my nerves. Our fate was sealed, it was just a matter of time before we were all dead. There’s something about the inevitable that makes it easy to accept. Especially when it involves death.
Chelsea must have stopped crying.
“Justin, we’re -“
The sentence was cut short. Just as I thought the night couldn't bring any more horrors, I found
that I was wrong. Standing in front of me was Justin. My eyes moved down over him, the dread rising in me like bile. In one hand he had a long curved knife that dripped with blood.
“What’s happened?” I asked, the words catching in my throat. “Where did you find that?”
Justin didn’t answer.
“Where’s Chelsea?”
Still no answer came from him, only a faint guttural breathing. Then I forced myself to look to his other hand. My fear grew with every passing inch. First I saw curls. Soft, red curls matted and knotted. Then I saw the eyes. They were rolled back leaving just the whites visible. I realise with a choked sob that he held Chelsea’s head in his blood soaked fist
I looked at him. His face was twisted in a malevolent grin, drool dripping from one corner of his mouth. An insane glow shone from his eyes like that of a wild animal, trapped behind a cage.
“Hello sugar pie, having a good time? Don’t be afraid, the fun is just beginning.”
I gathered my senses and ran back the way I had come, my feet thundering down the stairs. Behind me, I could still hear the crazy laughing of the only other person left in the house. I had no idea what had happened to him, or if he had killed Tim as well. And Lilly. What part did she have to play in the unfolding drama?
Thoughts raced around my mind as if it was a race track. I didn’t have time to ponder the answers; I could hear Justin coming for me, humming the tune to Make ‘Em Laugh. There was no doubt in my mind that he had gone totally mad.
I was determined to get out this time. I took a quick look out of the window, but no one was there. The humming was getting closer. I picked up a chair.
“Ready, or not, here I come.”
Without thinking, I launched the old wooden chair, riddled with termites and years of decay, at the window. It splintered in to pieces on impact, but so did the glass. I was free.
Not wasting any time I clambered through the makeshift exit, cutting my hands and knees in the process. Justin was right behind me, but I was out of his reach.
“Run, Rach, run,” he shouted. “You won’t get far. I’ll find you and bring you back. Then the real party can start.”
I ignored his wild howls, as the strong gusts of wind battered my frightened body. Tears streaked down my cheeks. I didn’t take any notice. I ran as fast as I could down the track that had turned from dust, in to a thick slippery mud in the heavy rain. There was only one place I could stay hidden.
Chapter Sixteen
“That’s it. Nothing more,” Rachel said, her entire body shaking, sweat dripping down her spine. “I can’t do this, it’s too much.”
“They’re only memories. They can’t hurt you any more.”
“I know, David, but I won’t do it. I can’t do. It hurts too much.”
He put down his knife and fork neatly next to the plate of half eaten food. He shook his head.
“But Rachel,” he said, a grin widening across his face, as his eyes fixed on her. “The party is just getting started.”
“What did you say?” The words tumbled from Rachel’s mouth, the whites of her eyes gleaming with terror. She wanted to run, but couldn’t move. “Tell me what you said.”
“I said,” David replied, sitting back in his chair. “You were just getting started. In my pr -“
“No you didn’t. That’s not it.”
“What do you mean?”
Rachel’s mind was spinning like a carousel. “You said the party’s just getting started.”
He looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”
“You did,” she was getting agitated. “I heard you say it.”
“Why do you think I would say that? What I was about to say, is that in my professional opinion, it’s best to finish the story. All the memories have been dragged up already, so not finishing your story could be even more detrimental to you than bottling everything up inside.”
She didn’t know what to believe. David seemed so genuine, his features soft and concerned. Had she heard him say those words? Was it her mind? All her instincts were screaming at her to leave. But something was holding her back. She doubted herself too much to be certain. It wasn’t the first time since she had been home that her mind had sent her reeling through the dark corridors of her memory. If she hadn’t heard those words from David’s lips, then where had they come from?
“I’m not going on anymore. Things are getting too weird for me.”
“But Rachel, you're doing so well. I really think that you should try and continue. It's for the best.”
“Best for who? It might be for you, with your case files and conferences, where you can use me as an example of a freak. But it's not for me.”
“That’s not why I'm here with you tonight. Surely you know that?”
“I don't know what to think. Why are you so interested in this anyway? It's not like you lived here back then, or knew anybody involved.”
David fidgeted in his seat, his hand fumbling with his tie. He cleared his throat. “I, err, ummm…I don't really know what to say.”
That makes two of us, Rachel thought. Up until now, it hadn’t even crossed her mind as to why a complete stranger wanted to help her out. “Go on, why are you so interested in me?”
Again, he cleared his throat. “In all honesty, you intrigued me. I have to admit, that after I saw you at the bed and breakfast, I went to the hospital and checked the files. I ran your name through the system and your case was still there. I read through and didn't know what to make of it, so I thought that it would be interesting to get a first-hand account of what happened.” He lowered his eyes to the table, as if he was trying to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry, I should never have agreed to this. My professional curiosity got the better of me.”
Rachel was astounded at the audacity of it. The whole time she thought she had been out on a date with a guy that was genuinely interested in her. Instead, it was nothing but a game to him; something to take back to the office and make a name for himself. That couldn't be the only reason, she thought. Could it? She wanted to know, but didn't know how to ask. She sat there, the food on the table going cold. Just like her heart.
“Look,” David said, shattering the awkward silence. “If you want to go home, leave this with me and I'll settle up. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
She felt as though she could cry. “How could you do this to me?”
“I honestly didn't mean to. I thought I could help you at the same time as learning something from you.”
“But I thought you liked me.”
This time it was his turn to look shocked. “Are you trying to tell me that you wanted this to be a date?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “Kind of.”
“Well,” he replied. “I’m flattered. I didn’t know that was your intention.”
“I guess we both got the wrong idea tonight then.”
She wanted to get out of the restaurant. It felt as though a million eyes were on her, boring into the back of her skull. How could she have been such an idiot? It didn't explain away the fact that her trust had been broken by someone that was supposedly trying to help her. She felt betrayed. It was a feeling she knew all too well.
“Whatever tonight may have been, you still lied to me about your reasons for agreeing to this. Why didn't you tell me that you’d looked into my file?”
“I don't know. I suppose a part of me didn't want to tell you because I like you and wanted this to be a date too. I thought you would think it unprofessional of me asking you out after having only just met you.”
“You have a funny way of showing that you like someone. I think you need to work on your people skills a bit more.”
She felt slightly better after hearing the revelation that he did like her. She could tell that he was being genuine. For the last ten minutes, he hadn't even been able to make eye contact with her. In a way, it was sweet. Screwed up, she thought. But sweet.
“I’m sorry if I was a bit heavy-handed with you.” His cheeks flushed. “You make
me nervous.”
She started to feel herself sympathising with him. “I make you nervous? How is that possible?”
“I haven't been around women since…” David’s eyes fell back to the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…I haven't been on a date since my ex-girlfriend. That was a few years ago now.”
“Oh really? Why did you break up?”
He pushed the food around on his plate with the fork. “It doesn't matter.”
Rachel didn't want to push it, but now she found herself intrigued. Maybe this was the thing about him that she kept picking up on? If she knew all his secrets, then maybe she would find it easier to talk about her own.
“Please tell me.”
He looked up. There was a deep sadness in his eyes. “She died when we were in our second year at college. Suicide. That's when I decided to switch my major to clinical psychology. I wanted to help people like her, so that nobody had to go through what I went through. You remind me of her.”
She didn't know how to reply to that. Now she understood why he wanted to help her. In a way, it made her feel awkward. She wasn't sure she liked being compared to a dead person. But her heart went out to him. She knew what it was like to lose someone she loved.
She stroked his hand. “David, I'm so sorry to hear that.”
“I’m just going to pop to the toilet. I'll be back in a second.”
He pulled his hand back from her, stood up and walked away, leaving Rachael sitting alone at the table. She felt terrible. Sometimes, she tended to forget that she wasn't the only person in the world to have a past that she wanted to escape.
She mulled over the facts in her head. The girl had obviously meant a lot to him and although he had broken all the confidentiality rules she could think of, he'd only been trying to help because she reminded him of his ex-girlfriend. And it had been thrown back in his face. Damn, she thought. If only she had known all of it sooner, then she never would’ve gotten funny with him.
Footsteps behind her said he was back. She waited until he was sat down.
The House of Wood Page 12
