by Amy Cross
“Cally, enough!” he hisses, suddenly seeming much angrier. “I will not have you creating this kind of atmosphere! Your mother's fragile and she needs our support, do you understand? For her sake, I need you to be a big girl and deal with your fears. You're not the first little girl who's ever been scared of noises in the night, but the difference is that your mother isn't very well right now. Her depression seems to be coming back, I don't know why, but it is. If you behave badly, it could feed back into things.” He pauses. “Please, Cally. You love Mummy, don't you?”
“Yes, but -”
“Then no buts.” Leaning toward me, he kisses the top of my head before heading over to the door. “Everything will seem better in the morning. If you want to sleep with the light on, that's fine, but whatever you do, don't cause any more trouble for Mummy.”
“I didn't cause -”
Before I can finish, he shuts the door, leaving me sitting alone on the bed. I can hear them talking in the distance, and I know they're probably talking about me. I just wish I could find some way to make them realize what's happening. Suddenly, feeling as if I'm being watched, I look around the room for a moment before tilting my face up toward the attic, and I realize I can feel its presence up there.
That's where it lives. The attic.
Chapter Eight
As I sit at the kitchen table and eat breakfast, I look out the window and see that Dad is talking to Joseph. Actually, he seems a little angry, as if he's telling Joseph off for something.
***
“I could still try to cancel,” Dad says a little while later, as he slides his suitcase onto the car's back seat. “I know it's only twenty-four hours, but -”
“Don't be silly,” Mum says, kissing him on the side of the face. “I'm sorry about last night, but we're going to be fine. Cally's off to school and I'm going to do some more painting. By tonight, I'll be so tired, even a nightmare won't be able to wake me up.”
Dad looks at me, and I can tell he's worried, but after a moment he forces a smile.
“You've been waiting your whole career for a meeting like this,” Mum continues. “Please, you can't pass it up just because I had a couple of bad nights.”
“I'll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he says finally. “Early evening at the latest.”
“And we'll be absolutely fine while you're gone,” Mum says, kissing him on the cheek. “I promise.”
***
Sitting on a bench in the playground, I try to ignore the weird stares from Chloe and the other girls. I take my lunchbox from my backpack and open the lid, only to find that there's no new food inside, only the leftover wrappers and crumbs from yesterday.
I guess Mum was so busy this morning, she forgot.
***
“What's the matter?” Chloe asks later, wandering over to me at the school gate. “Isn't anyone coming to pick you up?”
“She's just late,” I reply, looking along the street and hoping against hope that Mum's car will come around the corner at any moment. She's never forgotten me, not ever.
“Or maybe she's just not coming at all,” Chloe says. “Sometimes that happens. Parents die or they get put in prison or something, and no-one cares about the people they leave behind.” She stares at me for a moment. “Don't you have a mobile phone to call her with?”
I shake my head.
“Why not? Are you too much of a baby? Everyone has a mobile phone these days.”
As I try to ignore her, my stomach rumbles.
“Come on,” a bored-sounding male voice says nearby. “Let's get home.”
Turning, I see that an older boy has come to collect Chloe. I guess he must be the brother she mentioned the other day.
“This is the girl I mentioned the other day,” Chloe tells him. “She lives in Mary Madison's old house.”
“For real?” he asks, frowning at me.
I nod.
“Tell her about all the horrible things that happened in that house,” Chloe continues, with a grin.
“Shut up,” he tells her, before stepping toward me. “How long have you been living in that house?”
“About a week,” I reply cautiously.
“Huh.” He pauses. “Any weird shit happened?”
“Like what?”
“She's stupid,” Chloe continues. “She just -”
“Shut up!” he tells her. “What's your name?” he asks, turning back to me.
I pause, wondering whether he's playing a game. “Cally,” I tell him eventually.
“Hey, Cally. My name's Josh. So how are things going in that place?”
“It's...” I pause again. Standing here on the street by my school, all the strange events in the house suddenly seem so impossible, as if I made them up or dreamed them.
“I get it,” he continues. “Mary used to talk about stuff that went on. She said there was something hiding in the house, and she said it was trying to hurt her parents. Does that sound familiar?”
Feeling a flash of fear, I nod.
“She didn't see it at first,” he adds, “but eventually she started to catch, like, glimpses of it. She was scared, but she couldn't get anyone to believe her. She started calling it the Tenderling, she got the name from this book. I don't know where she got the book, but she was always talking about the Tenderling, and about ways to make it go away.”
“Did she find a way?” I ask, even though I think I know the answer.
He shakes his head.
“She disappeared, stupid,” Chloe says, rolling her eyes.
“She disappeared,” Josh continues, ignoring his sister. “Right on the same day when they found her parents.”
“What had happened to them?” I ask.
“Their eyes had been slashed out,” Chloe says with a grin, “and there were lots of little cuts all over their bodies. Apparently there was blood everywhere and they'd been, like, cutting chunks out of themselves. The police found little bits of meat on the floor, and -”
“That's enough,” Josh says, turning to her.
“The creepiest thing was that Mary was just gone,” she adds, “like -”
“That's enough!” he says firmly, nudging her arm before looking both ways along the street and then turning to me. “So no-one's come to pick you up, huh? I guess you need someone to walk you home.”
***
“At first we all thought Mary was hiding when she disappeared,” Josh explains, as we walk along the street, heading toward my house with a sulking Chloe in tow. “Like, she'd seen something horrible and gone to hide, and she'd come out when she realized it was safe. But as time went on, that seemed less likely.”
“What do you think happened?” I ask.
As we reach the gate, Josh looks up at the house for a moment. “I don't know,” he says finally. “She must have gone somewhere.”
“Do you think the Tenderling killed her?”
“Then why wasn't her body with the others?” he asks.
“Maybe it ate her,” Chloe suggests with a big grin.
“What do you think?” I ask, looking up at Josh.
“Mary let me borrow that book of hers,” he continues. “We were the same age, obviously she'd be older now. The book... There was some weird stuff in there.” He pauses, as if he doesn't want to tell me what he thinks. “Is that your mother?” he asks suddenly.
Turning, I see Mum stumbling out the front door. She looks kind of crumpled and untidy, as if she's been asleep, and she checks her watch before glancing at me. She stares for a few seconds, as if she doesn't understand what's happening, and then she comes over to us.
“Shit,” she mutters, “sweetie, I had no idea it was that time!”
“It's okay,” I tell her, opening the gate and stepping through. “Josh walked me home. He's Chloe's brother and Chloe's in my class at school, but...” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don't like Chloe. She's the girl I pushed over.”
“Thank you, Josh,” Mum says cautiously, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“I would never forget normally, it's just that today has been... busy.”
“Nice house,” he replies. “On the outside, anyway.”
“We're still getting it right, aren't we?” she replies, looking down and smiling at me.
“Just be careful in there, yeah?” he continues. “I don't want this to sound weird, but if you think anything strange is happening... Trust your instincts.”
“We will,” Mum says. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Can we go now?” Chloe whines, tugging on her brother's arm. “This is so boring.”
“See you around,” he continues, smiling at us before turning and leading Chloe away. “You're such a little brat,” he tells her. “You know that, right?”
“You shouldn't just follow strangers away from school,” Mum says, looking down at me. “What if I'd arrived a few minutes later and found you were gone?”
“You didn't, though,” I point out. “Maybe I should have a mobile phone.”
“No chance.”
“Why were you so late?”
“I just...” She glances back at the house for a moment, almost as if she's scared. “I didn't sleep much last night, that's all. And your father's off on his business trip and you were at school, so I had the place completely to myself all day and...” Another pause, before she forces a smile. “Yeah, I just lost track of time somehow. It's okay, though. Everything's okay.”
“Can we have dinner now?” I ask. “I'm hungry. You forgot to do my lunchbox.”
“I did?” She seems shocked. “Well, I guess we should go inside and...” She pauses again, staring at the house almost as if she's scared of something. Finally, reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her car keys. “I tell you what, let's not go back inside right now. What do you think to us going out to eat tonight, huh?”
“But -”
“Come on,” she adds, grabbing my arm and almost dragging me to the car. “Let's get out of here.”
Chapter Nine
She doesn't talk much during dinner at the fast-food restaurant. Mostly she stares into her food, and her eyes seem kind of deep this evening.
She looks so, so, so tired, and her hair is all unbrushed and messy. If I tried to go out like that, she'd tell me off for sure. Later, when Dad calls, she perks up and tells him that everything's okay. If I was on the other end of the line and I could only hear her voice, and I couldn't see her, I'd probably believe her.
But even after the call's over and we've finished eating, she just sits there, until the woman from the counter tells us we have to order something else or leave.
***
“Why are we driving this way?” I ask, staring out at the dark forest as we speed along the road. “This isn't the way home.”
“Yeah, it is,” she replies, trying to sound cheerful. “It's just a slightly different route, that's all. I thought we'd see a different part of town.”
“It only took twenty minutes to get to the restaurant,” I point out, “and now we've been driving an hour to get home.”
“It's just slightly longer this way, but we get to see more of the area.”
I look out the window again, but it's too dark to see anything. “I'm tired,” I continue, turning back to her. “It's almost nine and I have school in the morning. I should be in bed by now.”
Later, when we eventually park outside the house, she tells me we shouldn't go in straight away. Instead, we sit in the car and she bites her fingernails as she watches the front door for a while. It's almost as if she's trying to be brave so we can go inside. Finally, all of a sudden, she unbuckles her seat-belt and opens the door on her side, and tells me it's time to go in. It's almost half-ten by that point, which I think is pretty much the latest I've ever been allowed to stay up.
***
Opening my eyes, I realize I can hear loud, fast hammering coming from outside my bedroom.
I roll over and look across at the door. There's a sliver of light at the bottom, which I guess means that Mum has switched on the light out there, but I don't know what she's doing. Glancing at the clock by my bed, I see that it's three o'clock in the morning, which is about three hours after she finally tucked me in. She was acting so strange all evening, as if she was scared, and now I'm starting to think that the night isn't over yet.
Getting out of bed and creeping over to the door, I pull it open slightly and lean out.
Mum's hammering nails into pieces of wood she's placed across the door to her and Dad's bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Jesus!” she shouts, dropping the latest nail in shock. She glances at me, and she looks even more tired than before. “Go back to bed, sweetie. I don't need help with this.”
“But what are you doing?”
“I'm just -” Picking up the nail, she pauses for a moment, staring at the pieces of wood. “I'm just... I'm...” She turns to me, and for a moment it seems as if she doesn't have an answer. “You wouldn't understand, Cally. It's nothing you need to worry about.”
“Did you have another nightmare?” I ask, stepping out onto the landing.
“No, of course not.” Her hand is shaking slightly as she holds the nail in place and starts hammering again. “Yeah, kind of, but only a small one. Nightmares are fine, everyone has nightmares. We just have to learn to deal with them.”
I step closer, spotting something red and sore-looking on the side of her neck.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, trying hard not to feel scared.
“No, I'm fine.” She finishes hammering the nail in and pulls another from her dressing-gown pocket, spilling some from her trembling hand.
“You've got a cut on your neck,” I tell her, “and...” Seeing several more cuts on her arms, I realize that something really strange must have happened to her. “You didn't have those earlier. Not all of them.”
“It's nothing,” she mutters, starting to hammer again. “I just had to get them out, that's all.”
“Get what out?”
“It's nothing. There's -” Suddenly she drops the hammer and the nail and takes a step back, staring at the boarded-up door with a look of horror in her eyes. “Did you hear that?” she whispers.
I look at the door for a moment. “Hear what?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“The -” She pauses, before turning to me with a wild, scared expression. “Nothing, sweetie. Nothing.” She hurries over and kneels in front of me. “Listen, you can't tell Daddy about any of this, okay? He wouldn't understand. When he gets back from his trip in the morning, I need you to keep this a secret between just the two of us. It's very, very important that you don't say anything.”
“I think he might notice by himself,” I reply, leaning past her and seeing the boards over the door.
“I'll come up with an excuse for that,” she continues. “Don't worry, I'll think of a good explanation, just... I need to know that you won't tell him I was late picking you up earlier, or that I forgot to do your lunch, or that -”
Suddenly there's a loud bump from her bedroom, and we both turn to stare at the door.
“No,” she whispers, “please, no...”
“Mummy, can we leave?” I ask, trying not to cry as I tug on her arm. “I don't want to be here anymore.”
“There's nothing to be scared of,” she replies, still staring at the door. It sounds more like she's talking to herself, than to me. “It's nothing, there's nothing here. Nothing. It's just a nightmare, it was a bad dream and -”
Before she can finish, there's another bump, and the door seems to shudder for a moment, as if something banged against it from the inside.
“Mummy, what's in there?” I whimper, trying to pull her toward the stairs so we can get out of here. “Mummy, please, I don't want to be in this house anymore. Please!”
“It's not real,” she replies. “It was just a dream, which means...” She turns to me, and there's a kind of wild look in her eyes. “Which means this must be a dream! It's the only thing that makes
sense, I'm still asleep!”
“You're not asleep,” I tell her, as tears start rolling down my cheeks. “Mummy, you -”
There's another loud bump in the room, then another, and then the sound of something being knocked over, almost as if something is panicking in there.
“I'm still asleep,” Mum continues, picking me up and carrying me toward my room. “I just need to get you back into bed, and then I need to find a way to wake up. You're not even real, you're just a figment of my imagination.”
“You're not asleep!” I shout. “This isn't a dream! I'm real!”
“I've got it!” she continues, setting me down again and hurrying to the bathroom. “I know how to wake up!”
“Mummy!” Running after her, I reach the bathroom just in time to find her slipping her dressing-gown off. Seeing her naked body from behind, I realize that there are lots and lots of fresh little cuts all over her skin, each of them about an inch long, and each of them with dried and smeared blood all around.
“This should do it,” she mutters, staring at herself in the mirror as she tries pressing a scalpel blade against one of her arms. “Just a little more pain...”
“Mummy, we have to get out of here!” I shout, hearing more banging sounds from her bedroom, followed by a crunch, as if wood is being broken. “Mummy!”
“Why isn't it working?” she hisses, with tears in her eyes as she continues to cut her arm. “I just want to wake up!” Setting the scalpel down, she starts running her hands all over her body, as if she's searching for something just beneath the surface of her skin. “I must have missed one,” she continues. “There must be one still in me, but where the hell is it?”
“You're not asleep,” I tell her, hurrying over and pulling on her arm. “Mummy, you're awake, and I am too, and we have to -”
Hearing a loud crunching sound, I turn and look out onto the landing. The door to Mum's bedroom is still boarded shut, but a moment later I hear a bump from downstairs. Before I can say anything, Mum grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom and then downstairs, until we reach the kitchen. There are broken splinters of wood all around, and looking up at the ceiling I see a hole, as if something smashed through.
