by Amy Cross
“Beth,” says a voice behind me.
Turning, I see to my horror that David is standing nearby, having somehow made his way into the cabin. Staring at me with the same blank stare he wore earlier, he seems to have a very faint smile on his lips.
“Why won’t you let her in?” he asks. “She’s our daughter and she’s terrified. What kind of woman wouldn’t open the door for her own child? How the hell can you live with yourself?”
“You’re not here,” I tell him, backing away until I reach the wall. “You’re in my head. Somehow this has all just spilled over from my thoughts. Even John… He must have…” I pause as I realize that it has to be real, otherwise there’s no way John could have seen it. Unless even that was part of my madness, in which case, how the hell did I get up here to the cabin? Finally, I realize that I can’t trust any of my senses. I don’t know where the hallucinations end and reality starts.
Suddenly the banging on the door stops.
I turn and look across the room. For a fraction of a second, all I can think about is Hannah out there alone and cold, probably terrified. I’m her mother, I should go to her and make sure that he’s okay, no matter what else might be happening. It’s not her, though. It can’t be.
“Hannah…”
“Mummy!” she screams, standing right next to me. “Help me!”
Turning, I realize that she somehow managed to get inside.
“Mummy!” she yells. “Help!”
“Stop shouting,” I tell her. “Hannah, please -”
“Help me!” she screams, grabbing my arms with her icy hands and pulling me closer. “Why won’t you help me? Why don’t you care?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, fighting the urge to pull away from her freezing grip. “Hannah, I couldn’t have helped you. I was miles away when the accident happened, it was Daddy who was driving and I -”
“Blame me,” David says darkly. “Why not? It’s the easy way out, isn’t it?”
“There was nothing I could have done,” I tell Hannah. “Please, you have to believe me…”
“I’m dead now,” she replies, her voice trembling with a flicker of emotion. “I’m cold and alone and dead, and it’s all because of you.”
“No,” I reply, trying to pull free from her icy hands, even though there’s a sharp pain in my left shoulder. “Hannah, it’s not my fault -”
“Yes it is,” she continues, gripping me tighter than ever. “I waited for you. After I died, I thought you’d come with me, but you stayed away. Why don’t you want to be with me, Mummy? We could be happy!”
“You’re not real,” I reply, finally managing to slip loose. “This is all in my head!”
Bolting across the room, I fumble with the lock on the door before pulling it open and racing out into the darkness. I only manage to get a few meters away, however, before I slip on the leaves that cover the forest floor. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that David and Hannah have come to the door and are already watching me impassively. I turn and get to my feet, but as I stumble forward I feel my ankle starting to give way. I drop to the ground again, grimacing in pain, and when I try to get up I find that Hannah is standing right in front of me, staring down with a dark, heartless look in her eyes.
“Help me,” she says calmly.
“You’re not real,” I whisper, getting to my feet.
“Why do you say things like that?” she asks, with tears in her eyes.
“Because you can’t be here,” I reply, wincing as I feel the sharp pain growing in my left shoulder, running all the way down to the elbow. “You can’t be real, you’re gone, you went away. I lost you.”
“I love you, Mummy,” she replies. “I wish you loved me too.”
“Please,” I whimper, taking a few steps back as the pain in my arm gets worse and worse. Sweat is starting to pour down my face and my chest feels strange, as if there’s some kind of pressure on my heart, but as I turn back toward the cabin I find that David is blocking my way.
“Now what?” he asks blankly. “Beth, you look a little off-color.”
“This isn’t real,” I tell him, stumbling forward before dropping to my knees. As the pain gets worse, I clutch my shoulder and try to breathe, but my chest is starting to tighten. After a moment, I realize I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, thumping with furious intensity. “This… It’s not…”
“Mummy!” Hannah screams in my ear. “Help me!”
“I can’t,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I never could…”
“That at least is true,” David replies. “Hannah, you’re out of luck. We both are.”
Although I try to argue with him, I’m forced to lean down against my elbows as my chest tightens and tightens. Sweat is now dripping from my face and the pain in my left arm is incredible, as if it’s throbbing with uncontrollable agony. Finally I roll onto my side and let out a gasp, and the last thing I see through tear-filled eyes is the sight of David and Hannah standing over me, watching impassively.
“I think it’s her heart,” David says as everything goes dark. “It’s over. It happened just the way he said it would. I’ll make the call.”
Eight
When I open my eyes, everything is different.
I’m still in the cabin, but I’m upright on a wooden chair, facing the door, and there are restraints around my arms and legs, tying me in place. Outside the window, in the dark of night, I can hear footsteps, and moments later I realize that there’s another sound too: a car pulling up somewhere, followed by the sound of voices in the distance.
Wincing, I realize that the pain in my left shoulder has gone, replaced by a kind of dull ache. I feel slightly breathless, and all the energy in my body seems to have been drained away; I can barely even keep my head up as I listen to the sound of footsteps coming closer to the cabin. While I wait for someone to open the door, my mind starts to bring up various flashes of memory.
Hannah.
David.
Turning, I look around the room, but there’s no sign of them. Slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck start to tingle, and then -
The cabin door opens and I turn to see a tall, stocky male figure silhouetted against the dark forest. I know immediately that it’s John. He stares at me for a moment, before glancing back at someone I can’t see.
“She’s awake!” he calls out. “Just give me a few minutes, okay?”
“Wh…” I try to say, but suddenly I realize that my mouth is impossibly dry and even getting a couple of words out feels impossible.
“Hello, Beth,” John says, stepping inside and shutting the door. He pauses, as if he’s reluctant to say too much. “I suppose you’re wondering what happened. The crazy thing is, I’ve been preparing for this conversation for a long time, and I had this little speech all prepared but… It doesn’t feel very appropriate now.”
“Wh…” I pause, trying to muster the strength to ask just one, simple question. “What… how did I end up like this?” I manage to whisper eventually.
“You suffered a heart attack,” he replies matter-of-factly. “It was brought on by the encounter you had tonight with Hannah and David. Fortunately, we were in a position to revive you, and you’re going to be okay. You’ll feel groggy and tired for a while, but that’ll pass, and soon… Well, soon you’ll have forgotten all about it.”
“I…” Taking a deep breath, I try to focus. I start trying to pull my arms free from the leather restraints, but they’re too tight. “What… Why am I tied up?”
I wait for him to reply, but he’s just staring at me with a strange, almost sad look in his eyes.
“John,” I continue, feeling a sense of sheer panic starting to spread through my chest, “what’s happening?”
“It’s over,” he says quietly.
“What’s over?”
“I already told you,” he replies, heading to the counter and pouring a glass of water, which he brings over to me. “I cracked it. The writer’s block
. Here, drink.”
He holds the glass to my lips and tilts it, spilling some of the water down my chin and onto my lap until I manage to get it into my mouth.
“Feels better, huh?” he asks sadly.
Once all the water is gone, I lick the remainder from my lips.
“All the loose ends are tidy now,” he continues, setting the glass down and taking a step back, as if he wants to get a better view of me. “You definitely complicated things at the end there, Beth. That friend of yours, Jacqui, and the goddamn psychic, not to mention that psychiatrist you’d been seeing. God knows how I didn’t realize you were having sessions with Doctor Ferguson, but…” He pauses. “They’re all taken care of. It’s done.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I’ve got a horrible feeling that I already know.
“I tried to get Jacqui out of the picture sooner,” he replies. “I arranged for her to get that job in Australia a few years ago, but did she stay out there? No, she came traipsing back after a while. Some people really don’t take the hint.”
“You arranged for her to get the job?”
He nods.
“Wh… What are you talking about? How the hell could you get a company on the other side of the world to hire her?”
“I’m a writer,” he replies. “It’s what I do, I tell stories, I create paths for characters to follow. I find a way to make things happen, often with money, and -”
Before he can finish, there’s a tentative knock on the door. He turns and looks over, as if the intrusion is unwelcome but expected.
“Like I said,” he continues, making his way to the door and placing his hand on the latch, “I tell stories, but for my latest one I was blocked. I couldn’t work out how to end it, not even with your advice, not until recently, and then it was just…” After a pause, he pulls the door open to reveal David and Hannah standing outside.
“No,” I whisper, trying to get free from the chair. “John, what is this?”
“This is Ben Richards and Amelia Lucas,” he replies, as David and Hannah enter the cabin. “They’re the actors who I hired a number of years ago to be your family.”
Still struggling to get free, I manage to move the chair back a few inches away from them, scraping the wooden floor in the process.
“Tonight was their last night,” John continues. “I hired them so long ago, when I first started all of this. I always knew that I’d kill them off at some point, but that was the whole purpose of the story. Ever since then, they’ve been making occasional appearances in your house, pretending to be ghosts. The whole thing required a great deal of planning, but we managed to pull it off.”
“No,” I reply, still trying to get free with more and more force until, finally, I accidentally tip the chair sideways, landing so hard against the floor that I bang the side of my head.
“Jesus,” John mutters, hurrying over and hauling the chair back up. “I get that this is difficult,” he continues, “but try to listen, damn it. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” Once he’s got me back in position, he takes a step back and tries to get his breath back. “Did you like the special effects tonight?” he continues. “That was tricky, getting the system set up in your house and projecting the footage of Hannah and David, making it so we could do all the stuff with their injuries suddenly appearing right in front of you. My God, you have no idea how much it cost just to do that one scene.”
“Scene?” I ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you ever wonder what I did with all my money?” he asks. “I’ve sold so many books, and most of them have been turned into movies, but almost every penny ended up being reinvested into this project. My biggest, best story to date. I had to pay the actors, pay to stage certain scenes… It cost a lot, even more than I expected, but I was fortunate that a few of my books became very popular movies. The royalties were extremely useful.”
Staring at David and Hannah, I realize that they’re watching me with a kind of cool dispassion.
“It was lucky,” John continues, “or rather, I chose well. If you’re wondering why I picked you, Beth, it was because you had no family and very few friends, which meant I could more easily control your entire world. Once I’d introduced David, and once the two of you had started a family, I had you pretty much set. I tolerated your friend Jacqui for a while, but eventually I tried sending her off to Australia by hooking her up with a job. When she came back, I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to…” He pauses. “Well, every story has to have an ending, and I guess you already know what I had to do to her. And to Doctor Ferguson, and that psychic woman as well.”
“So it was all fake?” I ask, with tears in my eyes, as I stare at David. “You never actually loved me?”
“It was just a job,” he replies. “I mean, no, over time I definitely… I came to really, really like you, and I’m going to miss you and…”
“You were a good Mummy,” Hannah says. “You were better than my real mother. She’s always pushing me to do more acting jobs.”
“They’re going to go back to their real lives now,” John explains. “They’ve been paid enough to keep their mouths shut for the rest of their lives, with certain added provisions in their contracts to ensure that they’re never tempted to do anything stupid like telling anyone what happened here. That side of things is well taken care of and…” He turns to them. “I guess, guys, that it’s time for you to leave now. I need to… You know… What we discussed.”
“Come on,” David says, putting a hand on Hannah’s shoulder, “we should head off.”
“No!” I shout, watching as they turn away. “None of this is true! Why are you doing this? Come back! Please!”
“I realize this is difficult to comprehend,” John says calmly.
“Stop lying to me!” I scream through the tears as I struggle once again with the restraints. “Why are you doing this?”
“Careful,” he continues, hurrying around behind the chair and holding it down, to keep me from tipping over again. “You’re going to injure yourself if you’re not careful.”
“Come back!” I shout at David and Hannah as they disappear into the night. “Please, come back…”
“They’re gone,” John says, kissing the top of my head. “It’s okay, they were always going to go, I’ve got it all worked out now. The story’s over. You and me, Beth, we’re the only ones left who weren’t actors.” He kisses me again as I break down and start sobbing uncontrollably. “Hush,” he whispers. “They were good ghosts, weren’t they? Good actors. I really think this was my best story ever. Much better than all those books.”
“No,” I whimper, shaking my head as I try to ignore him. “This isn’t real.”
“It’s real,” he says quietly. “I wrote your life, Beth. For the past seven years, anyway. I decided what would happen to you, I hired actors to play the people you met, the people you loved, and I made you live a ghost story.”
“They were real,” I sob. “Hannah’s my daughter. I gave birth to her…”
“The child you gave birth to was switched and sent to an orphanage,” he replies. “I had to pay a lot of money to find someone who was willing to let their own child be raised by you as a substitute. It was complicated, getting a child involved. There were so many logistical problems, but it worked out eventually. It’s amazing what you can achieve if you just throw enough money at a problem, and that lovely little girl turned out to be such a wonderful actress. I was very lucky.”
“She’s my daughter,” I whisper through the tears.
“No, she’s someone else’s daughter. You real daughter is being raised somewhere by foster parents. I’m sorry, I didn’t keep track of her, I didn’t think there was any point. I’m sure she’s fine, though. You held her once, before the switch was made. I don’t know if that counts for anything.”
“No,” I say softly, as slowly my sorrow seems to solidify and starts building into pure anger. I want nothing mor
e than to get free and hurt him. “This is insane.”
“I wish I had time to tell you how it was all done,” he continues, kissing the top of my head yet again. “I know it must seem improbable, but trust me, with enough time and enough money and, well, with a great deal of creativity and imagination and just a little luck, I was able to pull it off. Frankly, I’m amazed, but there you go. I don’t want to brag, but I guess I’m one hell of a writer. I just… outgrew books. I wanted to tell a story with actual people, in the real world.” He kisses me again. “Once I had the idea, it was impossible to resist.”
“Stop that,” I whisper firmly, my mind racing as I try to work out how to get free. I still don’t quite believe everything he’s told me, but I figure I need to get away from him before I can start working it all out properly. “Jacqui was right. There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“She thought I was some kind of pervert,” he replies, making his way over to the door and waving at someone I can’t see. He turns to me. “She was wrong about that.”
“How did you…” I pause for a moment, thinking back to everything that happened tonight. “How did you fake her ghost? If she wasn’t in on all of this, how did you make her appear?”
“I didn’t,” he replies. “That never happened.”
“I saw her,” I continue, taking slow, calm breaths. “She was there tonight, after the fire. She screamed at me to run, so told me to be careful!”
“You must have imagined that part,” he explains. “It’s not a big surprise, given the trauma you’ve been under. I was trying to push you toward a heart attack. Hard to believe that the timing came together so beautifully.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why the hell did you do all of this?”
“To see if I could,” he replies. “To see if I could take the talents I normally used to write all those books, and write your life for you instead. As it turns out, I could.” He pauses, as footsteps come closer and closer to the cabin door. “And now we get to the final part of all of this. The show-stopping ending that I couldn’t come up with until my writer’s block cleared.”
