Maybe the door has been replaced recently, thought Sarah, supposing if the old front door had been damaged, it would be the one thing the owners would see to fixing.
Or maybe it looks this way to draw us in…
Against the raw, biting cold of the day, Sarah felt a heat pulsing over her skin as she stared at the doorknobs jutting out from the door, side by side like patient, preying eyes. Her hands went to her knees immediately and she tried to pull air into her lungs in long breaths, but they quickly became gasps as panic set in. She was staring at her feet, much like the vision she’d had the night before, except this time there was no soft white sand around them. Just the blackened, grimy concrete of the doorstep. The white laces criss-crossing her black walking shoes became a thick blur. The whole scene in front of her was now as cloudy as the outer horizon she had imagined last night.
Jane looked on in concern, regretting even setting out on this crazy visit to the apartment. “Sarah? Sarah! I’m here, alright,” she hunched down to her level, resting one hand on the middle of her back and the other on her hand. “You need to breathe OK? Nothing is going to happen, I’m not going to let anything bad happen.” Jane didn’t believe she had any more control over what would happen here than she did over the next space shuttle launch, but if they were to do this, she needed Sarah to get through this attack. And quickly, before residents inside the building became suspicious.
Sarah tried to speak, trying to convey that she was attempting to breathe, but the noise came out as garbled sounds between gasps for air. She closed her eyes, which at least took away the blurred vision, and dropped onto her knees. All she saw was black when her eyelids closed, but it didn’t help her balance and hitting the floor was an impulse reaction to try and simultaneously take away the disorientation she felt when standing blind. Jane dropped to one knee beside her, and amid the rising panic, Sarah was comforted by her presence. Unlike past public displays of her neurosis where her personal space was sacrosanct, she now wanted Jane right there with her.
As she concentrated on the feeling of comfort, she was able to regulate her breathing, drawing longer breaths through her nose and out of her mouth in a smoother, slower fashion. She opened her eyes and her vision slowly cleared as she looked in Jane’s direction to see the sharpness come into her face again. Onto one leg first, and then standing, Sarah dragged her hair back away from her face, and took a deep, long breath before exhaling.
“I’m OK, I think,” she wasn’t completely sure and her voice told as much, but the worst had seemed to pass. It had been a long time since she’d been able to arrest her anxiety in the middle of an attack like that, and it gave her a renewed sense of control.
Jane got to her feet and told Sarah to take a moment, while she examined the door in front of them. For all she knew, the near-new condition of the door could be a sign the whole interior of the building was renovated, clean and nothing to be feared at all, but she wasn’t holding her breath.
“I’m OK,” Sarah repeated, her voice strained and tired from the near attack, but she turned her attention to the door. “Hold my hand?” She felt somewhat silly as Jane stretched her hand out to meet hers. She was a grown woman, not a little girl walking through the woods with her father for the first time, but part of her also thought Jane needed it as much as she did.
She looked into Jane’s eyes, and it was the first time she had seen her friend genuinely afraid. Of what, neither of them knew. It was just an apartment building, and it was the middle of the day, but there was a fear of the unknown.
After holding Sarah’s gaze for a moment, Jane reached out and turned one of the gold handles, tentatively pushing the door open and peering through the widening opening. She walked through the doorway as she pushed, dragging Sarah behind her. The foyer resembled no five-star hotel, however the entrance hadn’t been the gates of hell either. There was an open space in front of them, the timber floorboards were aged but still in reasonable condition. Antique red couches sat against the walls on either side of the front door. A little run down with a tear or two on the upholstery, but had they been maintained better, they could be worth a lot of money.
Sarah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the hanging light fixtures. She wouldn’t refer to it as a chandelier, but it was quite appealing in a retro kind of way. Six small light globes resting on a tarnished silver ornamental base, and her eyes could follow the brass chain it hung from all the way to the mezzanine ceiling. It was a small foyer, the walls were more dated than the rest of the furnishings, completely covered in similarly vintage wallpaper. Cream in color with repeated patterns that once would have been gold before being stained with damp and the cigarette smoke which still clung to the air.
Just past each couch were the doors to the ground floor apartments, and just past them, staircases began on either side of the room. The stairs were a far darker timber than the floor, and each step had plates of faded red carpet on them. Sarah imagined these staircases in a time long past, the rich, deep brown of the ornate bannister matching each stair riser. The tread of each step adorned with a full, blood red layer of carpet playing off the gold patterns lining the walls beside them. When this place was built, she thought, it would have held a beauty time had long since forgotten.
As she considered the majesty of the foyer’s history, her eyes caught a picture hanging on the wall above the couch to her right. It had slipped from one corner and dangled on an angle now, but the print inside the frame was a black and white streetscape, presumably of somewhere in Calston dating back to probably the thirties or forties. A picture frame also hung above the opposite couch, although the print had been removed and only the light brown backing of the frame was visible.
The foyer was fairly well lit, with a couple of wall lights on each side, each with their own vintage casing, but the light spilling from them was dull, more yellow than bright white. For a moment, she could understand why the small area had been left untouched and uncared for. In her eyes, it had a unique feel, something only found in some of the better preserved bigger city hotels these days. To remodel the room now would risk losing the antique charm the room still held, although some simple housekeeping wouldn’t hurt it.
She glanced over her shoulder as they rose the staircase on the right side of the room, noticing how much darker the foyer looked with each step they took. Reaching the top of the stairs, they both took cautious glances down both lengths of hallway, like children preparing to cross a road. The halls were unremarkable, yet still carried with them a feeling of discomfort. Poorly lit, with a dark red, almost black carpet, the whole first floor had fallen into a state of disrepair which easily surpassed the foyer. At least the wallpaper in the foyer, dated and stained as it was, was still mostly attached to the plasterboard beneath it.
The door they needed was to their left as they stood nervously at the top of the stairs, Jane with her hand resting on the bannister which continued along the open section of hallway to meet the opposite staircase. Apartment 7, according to the worn brass number on the door. They were both struck by the pungent smell on this floor. It was as though the air didn’t circulate up this far, and it reminded Sarah of walking into a room that had been closed for years. Musty, nearly damp. It only got worse as they approached the door, where it grew into a far more powerful odor. A foul, rancid stench, strongest right at the doorway as if it were spilling out from under the door.
“Oh, it smells like rotten meat,” Jane, pinning her nose between a thumb and forefinger, even covering her mouth with the palm of her hand in an attempt to stop breathing in the thick smell of decay. Sarah covered her mouth as well. The smell was so gut-wrenching she could taste it already, despite her efforts to keep her mouth closed.
“This is disgusting, are you sure you want to do this?” Sarah mumbled through her hand, ventriloquistically trying to project her voice without opening her mouth too much.
“We’re here now, come on, let’s just get it over with,” Sarah reached out and
knocked on the door, using her free hand that wasn’t acting as a makeshift gas mask. The pair exchanged a steely look of resolve, which in both women masked a very real fear at who, or what, might answer the door.
Nothing. She knocked again, harder this time, but quickly declared there must be nobody home. Before fear could pull her hand away, she found herself turning the doorknob. The apartment didn’t seem to be locked, and she looked at Jane for approval before pushing the door. Jane didn’t speak, but shrugged as if to tell her they may as well find out what lay beyond the door.
Sarah closed her eyes as she pushed the door slowly ajar, trying to brace herself for some kind of horror scene. What else but multiple, long deceased bodies could be causing that horrible stench, aside from finding the apartment had been turned into a livestock slaughterhouse?
She slowly opened her eyes as she took a hesitant step into the apartment, but stopped immediately with a gasp, causing Jane to bump her forward slightly as she followed closely behind with a combination of fear and intrigue. As the vile, swarming indecency of the stench was pulled through them and into the hallway, both women jumped at the sound of a voice behind them.
“You won’t find nothing in there!” The voice came from the end of the hall to their right. It wasn’t angry or commanding. More helpful, and the woman peering out of another apartment was seemingly unconcerned about their trespass. Sarah stood with her eyes agape, still looking into apartment 7 without acknowledging the woman whom Jane was now staring at. The woman was older, in her sixties probably, wearing a tattered floral dress with a matching scarf over her hair. She leaned out of her doorway, not looking afraid, but still unwilling to completely abandon the sanctuary of her apartment.
Sarah fumbled for the sleeve of Jane’s jacket, without taking her eyes off the horror in front of her. The apartment was well lit, with sunlight pouring in through the open curtains to capture the full depravity of what would surely haunt her dreams until she was underground.
The cream colored carpet was spotted with circles of blood, each one darker in the middle and fading as they spread out. Above every pool of blood hung a body, each covered in scratches and cuts. Every corpse was different yet they all shared the appearance of being mauled to death in a savage animal attack. But Sarah knew no animal was responsible for this. The bodies were suspended by what she assumed were meat hooks, and there was another trait each body shared. Their faces were all concealed by black hoods, like a hanging display of executioners who had finally met their match. Despite the length of time she stared at this gruesome tableau, she didn’t count the number of bodies, but it was at least a dozen. The way they were lined along the ceiling made it all the more horrific, and she could only think of it as a ghoulish dry cleaners carousel.
Seemingly more concerned at having been caught going uninvited into a stranger’s apartment than the grisly discovery inside the room, Jane pulled her quickly back into the hallway and slammed the door shut. Sarah vomited, adding to the filth already staining the carpet at their feet.
“Ain’t nobody lived in that apartment in twenty years or more!” The old lady in the floral dress called to them, and Jane figured this woman should be a reliable source. Her disheveled appearance was that of someone who hadn’t spent much time outside during the time frame she spoke of. “Oh heavens, are you alright dear?” The lady took a few steps towards them, motioning as though she was coming to lend assistance, but thought better of it and retreated to her doorway as Sarah vomited again.
“She’s fine, she hasn’t been well. You’re sure nobody lives here?” Jane continued the conversation down the hallway, her voice rising as though she were trying to speak over a crowd.
“I’m as sure as I am of my own name, dearie! And I might be on my way down the other side of the hill but I ain’t at the bottom yet,” the lady assured them with a laugh, and backed into her apartment again, closing the door without offering any further insight.
Sarah stood up upright and without warning took off towards the staircase. She’d made it halfway down the stairs before Jane could even react. She called to her but Sarah wasn’t looking back, continuing in a frantic side-stepping motion down the stairs and straight through the foyer to the front door. Jane took one last look at the door of apartment 7 and ran down the stairs after her friend.
CHAPTER 18
Back in her living room, Sarah sat staring straight ahead, still a lingering trickle of tears rolling down her face. Jane handed her a glass of water, snapping Sarah out of the trance she was in.
“How are you OK after that?” Sarah’s voice was still trembling.
“I don’t know, I mean, I’ve never seen you have an attack before, but I suppose I knew what to expect,” Jane said, attempting to soothe her friend.
“Not me!” Sarah’s voice rose sharply. “The apartment! Are you saying that didn’t bother you at all?”
“I know,” Jane couldn’t hide her concern about what had happened at 29 Selwood Avenue, and though she was reluctant to talk about it with Sarah so tightly wound, it was unavoidable. She chose her words carefully. “With what you’ve seen, how could the apartment be empty? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Sarah stammered.
“Well the old lady said nobody had lived there for years. I don’t understand how that could be true with what you’ve been seeing there,” Jane was trying her best to use tact, but her faith in Sarah’s sanity was beginning to waver.
“I know what she said!” Sarah was yelling now, already agitated and becoming increasingly so as the conversation continued. “But the bodies, Jane! It was like a horror movie in there, and that smell!”
Jane was genuinely taken aback, now just as confused as Sarah seemed to be. “What bodies, Sarah?” Her voice stayed low and soothing.
“The bodies! The ones hanging from the ceiling! There was blood everywhere, how could you not have seen that?” Her voice was still trembling, but it now came with an unintentional tone of fear and bewilderment.
“Oh Sarah,” Jane’s voice filled with pity, finally realizing with no question that Sarah was losing grip on reality. She had seen through the door of the apartment. It was wide open when Sarah stepped in, and while it definitely smelled putrid, there had been no bodies hanging from the ceiling, nor blood all over the floor. The room had been completely bare. No furniture, no decorations, just empty. Completely abandoned.
Sarah broke, tears streaming from eyes and she began shaking uncontrollably.
Jane wasn’t sure if Sarah was angry at her, or realizing all of this had been in her head. Rather than trying to find out, she laid a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder, which was smacked away abruptly.
“I know what I saw! Why are you doing this? Why won’t you admit what you saw up there?” Anger had taken her over now, and she spoke in sharp lashes of accusation.
“I’m not doing anything, Sarah. The apartment was empty. You heard what the lady said. It’s been empty for twenty years” said Jane firmly, but with care in her voice, trying not to aggravate the situation any further. She knew Sarah needed help that was well beyond her skill set.
“But, but…” Sarah stumbled over her words. “What about that God-awful stench? How do you explain that?”
“It was disgusting, I’m not going to argue that. Maybe there were mice, or something else had died in there. If it has been closed up for twenty years, I’m not surprised it smelled so bad.”
“No! No, no no! This is you. I fucking knew it. I knew it all along, why did I ever doubt myself like that. You’re the one doing this and now you want me to think I’m insane and seeing things!” Sarah was furious now, small mists of spit following the words out of her mouth.
“Sarah – “
“No. I don’t want to hear it Jane. All of this shit started when I met you, and I don’t know how you’ve done it all but I was right the other day, wasn’t I?” She didn’t wait for a response. “I’m not the fucking crazy one, you
are! Why the hell are you doing this to me?”
“Sarah, I promise you, I’m not doing anything. We need to get you some help,” Jane was crying now too. She had formed a strong bond with Sarah, even though they hadn’t known each other long, and it tore at her insides to see her so confused and helpless. She spoke tenderly, but was under no illusion about where this was headed. Sarah wasn’t in the right headspace now to accept an offer of help.
“Bullshit! This is all you!” She spat the words with venom, her eyes wild. Jane didn’t want to accept it, but there was hate in her friend’s voice, and it was intended for her. “If you’re not going to tell me the truth, just get the fuck out!” The last words were screamed.
“Sarah, please,” Jane was begging now. Not for forgiveness, as she hadn’t done anything wrong, but pleading with Sarah to see reason and let her help.
“GET OUT!”
Jane had no choice. She wouldn’t be able to help Sarah until she calmed down. Draping her jacket over her arm, she walked slowly towards the door. She looked back over her shoulder but Sarah wouldn’t look at her. She sat in the lounge chair, legs apart and head down, dragging her fingernails through her hair. As Jane opened the door and left, she felt a pang of helplessness and wondered if her friend shared the same emotion, buried somewhere underneath her anger. She was almost certain this was the case, but there was nothing she could do to soothe her friend’s fragile vulnerability. She only hoped Sarah wouldn’t do anything silly before she could figure out how to help.
*
Sarah listened for the sound of Jane’s car starting. It idled for a couple of minutes before taking off away from her house. It was ten minutes or more before the tears stopped rolling down her face, and the whole time she didn’t move from her position on her chair. Either through lack of energy, lack of desire, or deep sadness, she didn’t know, but couldn’t bring herself to move.
Sarah Before Page 16