While Mi Jin continued to film them, Jess turned her camera on Dad and Grandma, and they quickly slipped back into hosting mode. “What was it Jae-Hwa told us yesterday?” Dad asked. “That former patients and staff have claimed to see a bright light in this room?”
Grandma nodded. “Like a light at the end of a tunnel,” she recited. “Which is why this room was so unpopular with patients, and often vacant. It’s unclear whether they thought the room itself was haunted, or the patients who stayed in this room were cursed themselves.”
While they continued talking, I wandered around the room, mentally framing a few shots. I was itching to take a few photos, but I didn’t want the Elapse making everyone feel disoriented and anxious. Its residual haunting effect seemed to have less power the more people were around, like in the elevator back at the Montgomery. Still, not worth the risk.
Room 313 looked pretty much like every other room we’d been in on the second floor: small, neatly made bed against the back wall, simple dresser with mirror on the left wall, a steel cabinet stocked with tissues, boxes of rubber gloves, jars of tongue depressors, and other medical equipment. I eyed the mirror nervously, half expecting to see the Thing looking back at me. To my relief, my reflection was completely normal; cropped hair, jeans, and the black Final Girl Productions hoodie Grandma had given me before we left the hotel.
We stayed in the room for another fifteen minutes, but Roland’s thermal camera had stopped showing the yellowish aura and I could tell Jess was getting restless. Her phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her pocket with her free hand while balancing the camera on her shoulder. She glanced at the screen, and her eyes lit up.
“It’s Lidia,” she told us, already heading for the door. “Cafeteria, now.”
Quickly, I flipped on the Elapse as everyone hurried into the hall, ignoring the way my heart immediately started pounding out of control. Now that the small room was empty, I wanted to get a picture of the supposed portal-corner for myself. Oscar hovered in the doorway.
“Kat, come on!”
“Right behind you!” I said. “Just want to get this one shot . . .”
I turned the Elapse vertical so I could capture the whole corner from top to bottom, then adjusted the focus. Then I snapped the photo, and two things happened at once:
The door clicked closed, very softly.
The fluorescent bulbs flickered, then went out.
I froze, still gazing at the viewfinder. Because even though the lights had gone out, the room wasn’t dark. A thin line of light had appeared in the corner, like there was a crack running from the floor to the ceiling. As I watched, it grew wider and wider until it was roughly the size of a doorway. And on the other side, as if at the end of a very, very long tunnel, stood a girl-shaped shadow.
When I lowered my camera, the tunnel was still there.
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even think about what I was doing.
I shielded my eyes and stepped inside.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DOCTOR PAIN WILL SEE YOU NOW
WARNING! Recording Mode Is Unavailable In This Format
MY eyelids were no match for the blinding brightness. No matter how hard I squeezed my eyes closed, I could still see the neon pink of the insides of my lids. I could practically smell the light—a sharp, antiseptic scent way more intense than the vaguely bleach-like smell in the rest of the hospital. My skin prickled in a way that reminded me of my encounter with Sonja Hillebrandt back in Crimptown, when the air had suddenly shifted and I’d felt like I’d walked into a cloud of static electricity.
I kept walking, covering my eyes with one arm and waving the other, trying to find the wall and groping nothing instead. After what felt like forever, I thought I noticed the light begin to fade and I slowed to a halt. Hesitantly, I dropped my arm, then squinted around.
I was standing in the corner of room 313, facing the room. But everything was . . . reversed. Like the negative of a color photo. The white tiled floor was pitch-black, and the light blue-green wallpaper was bloodred. The room was flipped, too, like a reflection—the shelves and the dresser had swapped walls, the door was opposite the bed. Distantly, I heard a muffled ringing sound, like a fire alarm going off in the building next door. Behind me, the portal in the corner glowed white.
But as weird as all of that was, it barely registered in my brain. Because the Thing was standing in the middle of the room. Head tilted, blinking at me curiously. Then it spoke.
“She.”
I stood there dumbly, half convinced I was hallucinating. “What?”
“You always call me it,” the Thing said. “A thing. But I’m a girl. More of a girl than you are.”
The insult took a few seconds to sink in. I was too distracted by hearing the sound of my own voice, but all twisted and warped. Despite the cruel words, the Thing spoke softly and sweetly, like a little girl. And there was a weird distance, too. It was hard to explain, but it kind of sounded like a recording, despite the fact that it was right here in the room with me.
“You aren’t a girl,” I said finally, trying to sound confident. “You aren’t a person. You’re something I created, and I’ll call you whatever I want.” Hearing the way my own voice shook forced me to realize what I’d been attempting to ignore.
I was terrified.
In the last four months, I’d dealt with plenty of scary stuff. Emily and her knife and her high-pitched laugh. Lidia when she was possessed by a dead angry pirate. The ghosts of electrocuted prisoners and lost, frightened campers and even a possessed nun who’d never actually existed as a human being, but did as a paranormal being.
But the Thing was different. It wasn’t exactly ghost, and it wasn’t exactly human. It wasn’t even a doppelganger. It was an actual part of me, a part I’d spent most of my life trying to ignore.
“You didn’t create me,” the Thing said in a singsong way that raised goose bumps up and down my arms. “You hid me. You hid me from my mother. All you had to do was let me out, and she never ever would have left us.”
I shook my head, but tears were already streaming down my face. “That’s not true.”
“It is.” The Thing sighed. “You made us wear that Bride of Frankenstein shirt in our sixth-grade school photo just to make her mad. You whined every time she asked if she could paint our nails or do our hair. You pouted every time she took us shopping.” It took a step forward, its eyes flashing. “Why did you have to push her away? She was just trying to spend time with us.”
“She was trying to change me,” I said weakly, wiping my eyes. “She was trying to make me . . . you.”
The Thing stamped its foot. “I am you!” it roared, and suddenly its voice wasn’t girly and sweet anymore. “All you had to do was let me out! And we’d all be happy! Mom and Dad would still be together, we’d be a family, we’d have a normal life instead of this. We don’t even have a house anymore, we live in hotels and stay in abandoned prisons and hospitals and Dad wants to go back to our home in Chelsea and you won’t—”
“He does not!” I shouted, suddenly furious. “He loves our life now, he’s just . . . he’s scared he’s not being a good father. Mostly thanks to you. But a miserable life isn’t a normal life, and we were all miserable—Mom, Dad, me. It didn’t matter that we were all in a house together. Everyone’s happier with the way things are now, even Mom.”
“Happier with her new daughter,” the Thing sneered. “Don’t you see? If she wasn’t happy with you, it’s your fault.”
I closed my eyes. I knew that was wrong. I’d known ever since Grandma and Dad had told me Mom backed out on coming out to see me. She can be very, very selfish. It was true that I could have tried harder with Mom. I could have talked to her on the phone when she called after moving to Cincinnati. I could have swallowed my complaints when she took me shopping or painted my nails.
But she could h
ave tried harder, too. She could have taken me to play laser tag when we’d passed it on our way to the mall. She could have helped me with my vampire Elsa makeup in seventh grade instead of sighing and asking if I was sure I wouldn’t rather be regular Elsa for Halloween instead.
I’d gone bridesmaid dress shopping with her over Thanksgiving, I’d had dinners and watched movies with her and Anthony and Elena, and I was going to her wedding shower in a few weeks. She could have come to Seoul. She could have taken an interest in my new life, like I was trying to do with hers.
I knew all this. It was time to actually believe it.
“It’s her fault, too,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “I’m trying now. But she still isn’t, not really. Maybe she will someday, but until then, there’s nothing else I can do.”
“Of course there is,” the Thing said, all soft and sweet again. “You can change who you are. Look how easy it is!”
I opened my eyes and took a step back. “What the . . .”
No more dress, no more braid. The Thing had my short ponytail, my Final Girl hoodie and jeans. It really was my doppelganger now.
“I knew you wouldn’t be willing to do what it takes to fix our family,” the Thing told me. “That’s why I brought you here. You entered the portal, but I’m the one who’s leaving.”
And then it leaped forward and shoved me hard into the shelf before sprinting across the room to the portal.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE
P2P WIKI
Entry: “Out-of-body experience”
[Last edited by Maytrix]
An out-of-body experience occurs when a person feels their soul, essence, or spirit has stepped out of their body. In extreme cases, some claim to actually see their physical body from this outside point of view. Out-of-body experiences are often induced by trauma and can occcur simultaneously with near-death experiences.
THE shelf rocked back against the wall as I slid to the floor. One bottle fell, then another, both smashing on the black tile. I tried to scramble to my feet, but the shelf tilted forward precariously, raining down more glass bottles and sharp metal instruments. A heavy cylinder hit my head, and bright spots danced in front of my eyes. I grabbed at the shelf again, this time to steady myself, but missed and landed hard on my hands and knees. Shards of glass sliced my palms, but I ignored the pain and got to my feet.
The Thing stood right in front of the portal. It smiled.
“Five seconds.”
But the voice didn’t come from either of us. It was distant, almost like it was coming from an intercom. The portal started to flicker, and the Thing turned to step inside.
I’d never reach it in time. Without thinking, I grabbed the Elapse from around my neck and hurled it at the Thing. It smacked into the back of its head, and the Thing stumbled. I lunged across the room and seized its hair and pulled.
“Five seconds.”
The Thing screamed, struggling to turn and face me with its head bent backward. I saw the Elapse on the floor just before the Thing stomped on it with a sickening crunch. A fresh wave of anger coursed through me, and using all my remaining strength, I shoved the Thing away from the portal as hard as I could. Then, ignoring its shrieks of anger, I threw myself inside.
I felt its fingers graze my ankle and tug desperately before I slipped out of its grasp. The screams quickly faded to nothing.
The light was even more intense this time. I crossed both arms over my eyes, wincing at the stings from the cuts on my hands.
“Just five seconds.”
“What . . .” I mumbled, and the grogginess of my own voice startled me. I needed to stop running before I crashed into something. Except . . . except I wasn’t running. I was lying down. On . . . nothing.
I was floating.
The light dimmed, and I lowered my arms. I was looking down at room 313, back to normal now with white floors and blue-green wallpaper instead of black and red. The corner was just a regular corner, no sign of a portal or anything unusual.
And Oscar was there, kneeling on the floor next to someone. Someone unconscious.
Me.
Panic seized me. Had the Thing somehow made it out of the portal? That’s not me! I tried to yell, but I couldn’t make a sound. Then I noticed blood on the girl’s hands, and I relaxed. The Thing hadn’t made it out. It was me on the floor.
That’s a weird thing to feel relieved about, said a voice in my head. You do look kind of dead. And it’s not a good sign that you’re up here watching yourself, is it?
That’s true, I agreed. I should go back down there.
As soon as I had the thought, everything went dark. I felt heavy, all of a sudden, like my bones had turned to concrete.
“I don’t know what happened, I left her alone for just five seconds!”
Oscar’s panicked voice was suddenly very close. I realized my eyes were closed, and struggled to open them. His face swam in my vision, his worried expression quickly changing to relieved when I focused on him.
“She’s awake!”
Another face was there, and another . . . too many. Dad, Grandma, the whole crew. No cameras, at least not pointed at me—both hung limp at Jess’s and Mi Jin’s sides. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, hands feeling my forehead, pulling me up into a sitting position, bracing my back when I slumped over.
“What happened?”
“Is that blood?”
“Her hands—Mi Jin, get the first aid kit!”
“Did you fall?”
“Did you hit your head?”
I blinked slowly, trying to get my thoughts in order. “No, I didn’t . . . I’m fine, I just . . .”
“Okay!” Grandma said loudly, and everyone else fell silent. “Let’s give her a little space, shall we?” She helped me up and led me over to the bed, sitting down next to me as Lidia handed her the first aid kid. “Where on earth did these cuts come from?”
“Glass,” I mumbled. “Some bottles fell off the shelf.”
Grandma glanced at the shelf, where the jars and instruments still sat undisturbed. “Mmhmm,” was all she said. Then she smiled up at Jess. “Mind if I sit here with my granddaughter for a bit? The rest of you really should get down to the cafeteria and find Lidia.”
She said it kindly, but there was no hint of a question in her voice. Jess hedged for a moment, tapping her fingers on the side of her camera.
“Yeah, of course. You sure you’re okay, Kat?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Jess smiled, then headed back out into the hall. The rest of the crew followed, although Oscar looked pretty reluctant to leave. Dad stayed by the bed, watching as Grandma opened a tube of antibiotic cream.
“You should get down there, too, Jack,” she said without looking up. “She’ll be fine.”
“I’m okay,” I added, doing my best to sound normal despite the grogginess that still lingered. “Totally fine. It’s just a few scratches. I was taking a few photos when the light went out, and I tripped and fell.”
Dad sighed, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I was lying again, and he knew it. I had to stop doing this. I was only making things worse.
“Actually, that’s not true.” My heart pounded faster, but I forced myself to say it. “The truth is . . . the doppelganger we saw on the bridge was here. It’s not a doppelganger, though, not exactly. It’s an artificial ghost I made. Like Brunilda Cano. But it’s like a version of me that . . . that Mom would like better. It ripped up your contract and left those messages on Mom’s Facebook, all of that stuff. And tonight, when you guys left the room, I stayed just to take a few photos, and it . . . attacked me.”
“Attacked you?”
“The portal in the corner,” I said hurriedly, wanting to get this over with, fully aware of how ridiculous it sounded. �
�It opened, and I went in, and that’s when it pushed me into the shelf—the other shelf, in the other room 313. It was trying to come back here, to replace me.”
My breaths were coming quick and short now. I chanced a peek at Dad’s face, then Grandma’s. Dad’s brow was furrowed, but Grandma looked perfectly serene. Neither looked ready to lock me up, so that was something.
“The reason I didn’t tell you any of this before is that I figured you’d think I was crazy,” I finished. “But it’s the truth.”
“Kat, honey . . .” Dad sat down on my other side, the bed creaking beneath the weight of all three of us. “I would never think that. I’m glad you’re finally being honest with me.”
I looked up at him in surprise. “You believe me?”
He started to respond, then pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “I can tell when you’re lying,” he said finally. “And you’re not. But I’ll admit, everything you just said is kind of . . .”
“True,” Grandma finished. Dad and I both looked at her in surprise. “Well, Jack, look at these cuts on her hands. Do you see any glass, anything in this room that could’ve done this to her? And, KitKat, you said you were taking photos, but I can’t help noticing you don’t seem to have your camera.”
My heart twisted as the image of the broken Elapse lying on the black tiled floor surfaced in my mind. “I lost it,” I whispered. “It’s in the other room 313.”
Dad stood and walked slowly around the room, peering under the bed and around the sides of the shelf. Then he sat next to me again, his face a bit pale.
Grandma chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry,” she said when Dad gave her a funny look. “But you are the host of a ghost-hunters show whose motto is Believe. So . . . can’t you?”
“I . . . well . . . yes, of course I can,” Dad said, shaking his head. “But I’m just trying to . . .” He turned to me. “Kat, I thought I didn’t understand what was going on with you over the last few weeks. But it seems like maybe I haven’t understood what you’ve been going through over the last few years. And that’s what really scares me.”
Final Girl Page 14
