A House in London

by Amy Cross

  Reaching out, she tried to haul herself toward the door.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice ragged and weak now. “Help...”

  Suddenly more pain burst through the belly. As she began to scream, she realized that somehow she was entering childbirth for the second time in as many days. She rolled onto her back, with her head resting against the bottom step of the grand staircase and with the huge chandelier hanging directly above, and she continued to cry out as more blood erupted between her legs, splattering against the hallway's marble floor.

  Having forced its weaker twin out of the womb twenty-four hours earlier, this second child was much stronger, possessing all the vitality and health that had been lacking in its brother. Whereas the first child had merely fractured Jennifer's pelvis as it emerged, the second cracked the bone in two as it forced its way through, splitting its mother's meat and flesh. The child began to cry as soon as its face emerged, its primal scream louder even than Jennifer's agonized groan. For several minutes, mother and son remained locked in a bloodied cry, but finally the baby fell free, still attached to Jennifer thanks to a freakishly thick and knotted umbilical cord that was several times larger than normal. Covered in its mother's blood, the baby squirmed on the old fur coat, wriggling and crying out as it waited to be helped. Although she felt too weak to even move, Jennifer somehow managed to force herself to sit up, and with trembling hands she reached down and began to scoop the bellowing child into her arms.

  “A real mother will do anything for her child,” she remembered Vivian sneering. “A real mother loves unconditionally.”

  Those words had seemed so strange and impossible at first, but now they made perfect sense.

  “It's okay,” Jennifer whispered, holding him closer to her undamaged breast and wincing as he immediately took hold to feed. “It's okay, I'm here.”

  She meant those words, too.

  Whereas her reaction to the first child had been one of cold revulsion and disgust, this time she felt an overpowering flood of protective concern, and a feeling that she would give him whatever he needed so that he might survive. She felt almost as if a switch had been flicked in her head, as if a sense of pure, unconditional love was finally blossoming throughout her soul.

  Sitting up, she looked down and watched as the child fed. He already looked so much bigger and healthier than his dead twin.

  “No-one's going to hurt you,” Jennifer said with a smile, as she sat feeding him at the foot of the house's grand staircase, with the sounds of London life on the other side of the door. Those sounds no longer mattered to her, however. All that mattered was the child. “Take all you need. Take -”

  Suddenly, as she continued to watch her baby feeding, she began to realize that something was standing just a few feet away from her, watching. At first she didn't dare look, but finally she saw that the dark-cloaked figure from the basement had followed her up into the hallway. As the baby continued to suckle at her remaining breast, Jennifer slowly began to look up, and this time – finally – she was able to look directly into the face of the figure that had been following her for so long, since her very first night in the house. Her gaze, which had been denied and rejected by the figure so many times, was now allowed to settle on his features. She stared in horror at the elongated contours of his bird-like skull, and at the large, cracked eye sockets on either side of his head. In turn, he stared back down at her, and she watched helplessly as he leaned closer and his mouth opened to reveal two large fangs protruding from his lower jaw.

  The Devil himself.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “Oh wow, he's so...”

  The woman paused as she stared into the pushchair. She seemed momentarily lost for words, before looking up at Jennifer and smiling.

  “He's so big!” she continued finally. “For a one-year-old, I mean. I'm not saying he's fat, 'cause he's not, it's more... Well, he just looks so healthy!”

  “He's very strong,” Jennifer replied with a proud grin, as traffic rumbled past nearby. “He's never been sick a day in his life, either.”

  “My Charlie gets sick so often,” the woman said, turning and checking that her own son was tucked carefully in his pushchair. “Just last week he had a really nasty cough. I took him to see the doctor, but they never really do anything, do they? Just some antibiotics, which I didn't really want to give him, but I did anyway. I'm sure it's nothing serious, though. Just one of those things that happens to all babies from time to time.”

  Jennifer watched her for a moment, as they stood on a shady path in the corner of the park. High above, the sun shone down from a cloudless blue sky, and the good weather seemed to have brought half of London out to relax on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Some teenagers were sitting on the grass nearby, and an impromptu game of football had broken out a little further away. Jennifer watched the calm, tranquil scene for a moment, before hearing a faint gurgle and looking down to see that her son was awake now. For a moment she simply watched him, marveling at his force of life and feeling a swell of pride in her chest, until suddenly she recognized the hunger in his eyes.

  “I should get home,” she told the other woman. “I think it's time to feed him.”

  “I bet a big boy like that drinks a lot!”

  “He most certainly does,” Jennifer said as she turned the pushchair around, ready for the short journey back to the house. A shiver of fear passed through her chest at the thought of another long, painful feeding session, but the fear quickly faded and was replaced by love, and by the knowledge that she would do anything for her child. The feeding sessions were necessary, and no matter how bad they got, she always managed to recover.

  “I meant what I suggested just now,” the woman continued. “If you're interested, we could get our two boys together for a play-date. You know, just to help them start socializing a little. I think that's really important, even at such a young age. So they start learning how to be around other people.”

  Jennifer hesitated for a moment, but finally allowing herself a faint smile. “That sounds wonderful,” she replied, before turning and pointing at the large, stone-built house that dominated the far side of the park. “We live there. Drop by any time.”

  “You live there?” the woman said, her eyes wide with shock. “Wow, you must be...” She paused for a moment. “Sorry, I just mean, that's such a wonderful-looking place. We come to the park every weekend, and I've often look at that house and wondered...” She eyed Jennifer with suspicion for a moment, as if she was trying to work out how someone like her could afford to live in such a large, well-positioned house.

  “It was an inheritance,” Jennifer told her, figuring that she was being fairly honest. “I took it over after the previous owners passed away. They were my...” She paused, struggling to know quite how to explain how she'd ended up taking the house following the Diebolds' deaths. “It's complicated,” she added finally. “They had no children of their own, but we were quite close at the end.”

  “I'm so sorry,” the woman replied. “For your loss, I mean. My husband and I are still trying to get onto the property ladder. For now we're living with his parents. It's not ideal, but...”

  Her voice trailed off, and for a moment there was a trace of sadness in her eyes.

  “It's hard at the start,” Jennifer said as she began to wheel her pushchair away. She felt a little self-conscious about her limp, and her damaged pelvis still hurt, but she'd learned to live with the pain. “Things tend to work out in the end, though. Remember, drop by any time!”

  As she pushed the pram toward the nearest gate, she looked down at her baby. She could see from the look in his eyes that he was getting hungrier by the second, and she knew she had no option but to endure another feed. Her right breast had never had time to heal, not since the very first feed a year earlier, but she felt the damage was an acceptable price to pay if it meant that her child became stronger. And he was getting stronger, she could see that. Making h
er way through the gate, she crossed the road and pushed the pushchair toward the house.

  “Did you hear?” she asked, smiling at her son. “You might be going to have your very first play-date! Isn't that exciting?”

  The child let out a gurgle as he wriggled in his blankets.

  “Of course, you'll have to play nice,” she continued, as a passing elderly couple gave her a friendly smile. She waited until they were out of earshot before looking down at her son again. “I don't want to have to clean up any messes, do you understand? Remember your strength.”

  “Lovely baby,” a passing woman told her

  “Thank you,” Jennifer purred, filled once again with pride. Glancing down at her son again, she saw him smiling back up at her. “See?” she asked. “Everyone loves you. I think you're going to be quite the charmer when you get older. You already have more personality than some adults.”

  When she reached the foot of the steps, she turned around and began to carefully carry the pushchair up to the front door. The task wasn't easy and she struggled a little, but after a moment a man in a business suit hurried up and began to help.

  “Thank you so much,” she said as they reached the top of the steps. “You're too kind.”

  “It's nothing,” he replied, smiling as he turned and headed back down. “Have a nice day!”

  “You too!” she called after him.

  She quickly took the keys from her pocket and unlocked the door, before wheeling the pushchair into the hallway.

  “Hey! Jenny! Wait up!”

  Turning to push the door shut, Jennifer flinched as soon as she recognized the figure running up the steps.

  “Hey!” Lucy said with a smile. “I thought it was you! I was just passing and -”

  “Can I help you with something?” Jennifer asked, interrupting her. “I have a million things to do this morning.”

  “Well, I...” Lucy paused, with a hint of concern in her eyes. “I just wondered what happened to you. After that night out, you never came to work again.” She peered through to take a look into the house. “Wow, are you living here? That's insane! So did you, like, meet some massively rich guy or something like that?”

  “Something like that,” Jennifer replied calmly, with one hand on the door, poised to swing it shut at the first opportunity.

  “What's his name?”

  “It's complicated.”

  “And that baby? Is that yours?”

  Jennifer paused, before nodding.

  “Can I say hello?” Lucy continued, trying to step inside, only for Jennifer to block her way. “Oh, well... Maybe another time, huh?”

  “Maybe,” Jennifer replied. “Maybe not, though. I'm just rushed off my feet right now.”

  Lucy paused for a moment. “You don't, like, live here alone, do you?”

  “It was nice to see you again,” Jennifer told her, starting to swing the door shut. “Good luck with everything.”

  “Hang on!” Lucy stuck a foot in the doorway. “Are you okay? I feel like we were starting to be friends, Jenny. How about we get together for a catch-up some time? Let someone else take the kid for a few hours, or bring him, whatever, just... I'd really like to hang out.”

  Jennifer stared at her, and for a brief moment she felt as if she'd actually like to accept the offer. Quickly, however, she remembered that she couldn't.

  “I'm sorry,” she said calmly, “but that won't possible. Good luck with things, though.”

  “Jenny, your face looks -”

  “It's not Jenny,” she added. “It's Jennifer. And I'm sorry, but we can't be friends.”

  With that, she pushed the door shut, forcing Lucy to pull her foot away.

  Taking a deep breath, Jennifer listened to the sound of traffic. After a moment, she heard Lucy making her way back down the steps. Once she was sure she wouldn't be disturbed again, Jennifer took a moment to check her make-up in the mirror. She'd managed to obscure some of the scars around her neck and chin, but the burns had permanently marked her flesh and she knew they'd never fully go away. Perhaps if she'd sought medical attention all that time ago, something could have been done, but that had never been an option. The outside world simply wouldn't understand.

  Turning, she took a moment to look around the calm, quiet hallway. Sometimes she found it hard to believe that she'd ended up taking the house on, but at the time it had seemed to be the only way to protect her child, and no-one had shown up to ask about the Diebolds. She'd found enough cash in the study to keep her going for several years, and she'd managed to make a few adjustments to the decoration of the place, to make it feel a little more her own. The door to the basement remained shut and locked, as ever, and she supposed that there was simply no need to ever go down there again. For the most part, she lived a quiet, solitary existence, with just her child for company, and she was fine with that. She remembered the old days, when she'd pursued such a hectic life in the city, but she didn't miss that time at all. Since the birth of her second twin, she'd been absolutely devoted to him and to his needs, almost as if something had reached into her head and changed the way she saw the world.

  Hearing a bump from far off in the heights of the house, she looked up the stairs and waited for a moment, but the house quickly fell silent again. She knew the creature was still around, still watching her every move, and she felt certain that one day it would make its presence known once again. She also knew that the creature was most likely keeping her alive, making sure that she didn't succumb to any of the injuries she'd suffered during childbirth. For now, she knew she just had to raise her son to the best of her abilities, and she figured the creature would intervene when the time came. What that would mean, she couldn't imagine.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked finally, smiling as she reached into the pushchair and tickled her son's chin. “Does my big boy need to feed again, so soon?”

  She turned and carried the boy through to the bathroom, where she set him down on a changing table. With stiff fingers, she began to unbutton her shirt, finally pulling it aside to reveal her scarred chest. Both breasts had long since been gouged away by frantic little hands, and her mammary glands had all swollen massively, forming large milk-white lumps that had burst through knotted meat. There was almost no flesh left. Instead, chunks of red tissue clung to the edges of the glands, barely supporting them at all. The glands themselves were so huge and distorted, they constantly leaked dribbles of whitish fluid that ran down onto the belly.

  Ignoring the pain that coursed through her body, Jennifer raised the child toward her chest, while preparing for the even greater agony that she was about to endure once again. And then, just as the little boy turned his face toward the swollen glands, his lips moved slightly and Jennifer heard – for the very first time – a single word that simultaneously filled her heart with both love and horror.

  “Mama!”

  Also by Amy Cross

  THE FARM

  No-one ever remembers what happens to them when they go into the barn at Bondalen farm. Some never come out again, and the rest... Something about them is different.

  In 1979, the farm is home to three young girls. As winter fades to spring, Elizabeth, Kari and Sara each come to face the secrets of the barn, and they each emerge with their own injuries. But someone else is lurking nearby, a man who claims to be Death incarnate, and for these three girls the spring of 1979 is set to end in tragedy.

  In the modern day, meanwhile, Bondalen farm has finally been sold to a new family. Dragged from London by her widowed father, Paula Ridley hates the idea of rural life. Soon, however, she starts to realize that her new home retains hints of its horrific past, while the darkness of the barn still awaits anyone who dares venture inside.

  Set over the course of several decades, The Farm is a horror novel about people who live with no idea of the terror in their midst, and about a girl who finally has a chance to confront a source of great evil that has been feeding on the farm for generations.

  Als
o by Amy Cross

  ANNIE'S ROOM

  1945 and 2015. Seventy years apart, two girls named Annie move into the same room of the same remote house. Their stories are very different, but tragedy is about to bring them crashing together.

  Annie Riley has just broken both her legs. Unable to leave bed, she's holed up in her new room and completely reliant upon her family for company. She's also the first to notice a series of strange noises in the house, but her parents and brother think she's just letting her imagination run overtime. And then, one night, dark forces start to make their presence more keenly felt, leading to a horrific discovery...

  Seventy years ago, Annie Garrett lived in the same house with her parents. This Annie, however, was very different. Bitter and vindictive and hopelessly devoted to her father, she developed a passionate hatred for her mother. History records that Annie eventually disappeared while her parents were executed for her murder, but what really happened to Annie Garrett, and is her ghost still haunting the house to this day?

  Annie's Room is the story of two girls whose lives just happened to be thrown together by an unlikely set of circumstances, and of a potent evil that blossomed in one soul and then threatened to consume another.