Noel shivered.
At night, Walter made spaghetti. He set a plate down on the dining room table for Noel, and he sat across from him, watching him eat. The food was lukewarm, and not very good, but Walter had never been a very good chef.
"Come on, eat up," he told Noel.
Noel slowly shoveled a forkful into his mouth, chewing slowly. He looked up at his father. "Are you going to have any?"
"I already had something to eat earlier," Walter said. "I'm not hungry." He held a tumbler of whiskey between his fingers on the table, gently sliding it around. There was still a pain behind his eyes from the neck injury he sustained from his fall off the ladder, and there was pain in every movement. He took a sip of the whiskey and let it slide down his throat. Now he wasn't even hiding his self-medication from Noel.
The wind howled outside and battered against the window next to them in the dining room. Noel looked past his father's shoulder at the window and felt that churning feeling of fear in his gut, like the sand in an hourglass running out. Except this time it was piling up. And it would trap him forever.
"I moved the car under an awning of trees," Walter said. "That way we won't have to shovel it out too much when the storm ends. I know we didn't get a Christmas tree yet, but there'll be time enough after the storm ends to get one in time. Maybe we could even chop one down in the woods."
Noel nodded slowly as he ate more spaghetti. Truth be told, he had no appetite either. His mind was purely on escape.
Walter leveled his eyes on Noel, an edge in them that the little boy didn't notice. "Do you think Mommy hates me?" he asked suddenly.
The spaghetti almost fell out of Noel's mouth. "What?"
"Do you think she hates me?" Walter asked in a somber tone. "I think she does. I think you're right. You've always been smarter than I realized."
Noel thought about his frightening conversation with Heinz. About how his wife had abandoned him in the attic and left him to rot away for something bad. Though Noel was young, his mind easily drew conclusions between that story and how he felt about his father. In fact, since coming down from the attic and laying eyes upon him again, it cemented his opinion: he hated his father. And if he had the opportunity to slip out of this place and leave forever, even leaving him behind, he would take it. But he couldn't let on to what he was thinking.
"She doesn't," Noel said, trying to reassure him.
A smile crossed Walter's face. He looked down at the table, knowing his son was full of it. "She does," he said. "She hates me. It's all my fault." His head sank down into his hands and he gently rocked back and forth.
Noel stared at the sad figure, not knowing what to do. He was shocked to see this side of his father, this admission of wrongdoing.
"I'm in Hell," Walter said. "I'm in Hell and I deserve it."
The wind moaned outside and darkness crept over the cottage save for the lights in the kitchen and the dining room. It created an eerie atmosphere. Noel looked around to make sure they were alone.
"If you want to leave, you can," Walter said.
Noel was shocked. His mouth hung open, but he didn't know what to say.
Walter finally pulled his head out of his hands and looked at his son. "You don't deserve to be stuck in a place like this. You should leave."
Noel stared at his father carefully. He had never been honest with him before, and he couldn't help but feel like this was some kind of trap. "Do you want to leave?" he asked softly.
The smile returned to his face, flimsier than ever. "I can't," he said. "I have nowhere else to go." He leaned back in his chair and motioned around him with his arms. "This is all I can afford. Hell, I can't even afford this anymore." He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, tweaking his neck and wincing at the pain.
"I don't want to leave," Noel said.
"You don't?" Walter asked with a smirk.
"I think I was just getting scared," Noel said. "I was imagining things. It's really not so bad."
"You're a bad liar," Walter said.
Noel gulped, trying not to let his father see it.
"Don't you want any more supper?" he asked. "You barely touched your spaghetti."
Noel shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry right now."
"All right," Walter said, rising. He grabbed Noel's plate and brought it to the kitchen, scraping off the food into the garbage. "Go upstairs and take a bath, then change into your pajamas," he called over his shoulder.
"Do I have to?" Noel asked.
"Yes," Walter said sternly. "It's almost been a week since you took one. I'll come up in a second and draw you a bath. There should be a towel in the box in your room." Walter turned from the sink, trying not to move his neck too much. "Well? Get going."
Noel got off the chair and slowly walked to the staircase. He dreaded going upstairs into the dark. He dreaded going anywhere, really. This whole place was a nightmare, and he had to think of a way to escape soon. Despite the surprising candor his father had just displayed, he didn't really believe him when he said he could leave.
Walter drew a bath while Noel waited in his room. The pipes rattled as the tub filled. When it was full, Walter instructed Noel to strip down. Noel did so, taking the towel from the box. Satisfied, Walter returned downstairs.
Noel stopped at the hallway to see if the coast was clear. He clutched the towel to his naked body. He shivered when his feet touched the cold bathroom tile. He wished to get this over with quickly. The light bulb above the mirror provided poor visibility, and shadows loomed behind the tub. Setting his towel on the toilet seat cover, he dipped a toe in the water.
Too hot.
He held his foot in the air and waited. He tried again. It was still uncomfortable, but bearable. He slowly lowered his body into the water, allowing himself to adjust. He scooted his butt until his back was pressed against the wall of the tub. His feet only extended halfway across the bottom.
Now that he was settled, the bathroom was quiet. His father rummaged with something downstairs, then the noises faded. Everything became suspended in space and time, like Noel was trapped in a Jell-O cube. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
The light bulb flickered.
Noel thought a moth was battering against the glass at first. But it was the power flowing to the filament that waxed and waned, making the murky light warp strangely.
Noel's heart thumped. He held his breath.
Then the power held steady with a gentle hum and he thought he was safe until the bathroom door moved and he saw a face staring at him from the darkness that nearly made him jump out of the water.
"Emily!" he cried. "You scared me!"
Her eyes were just as wide as his.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I should go," she said, then her face disappeared.
"Wait!" Noel called out. "Come back!"
He waited in the water, his hands clutching the sides of the tub. He stared at the slit in the door, holding his breath. The silence returned and it crushed him.
Then the door was pushed open again and her face returned. Emily carefully considered him for a very long time, saying nothing. Then she finally entered the bathroom.
"I'm sorry," she said. She was nervous. She averted her gaze from him and stared at the grouting between the tiles.
"What is it?" he asked. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No..." she said. "It's just that... I'm sorry, I should've told you the truth right from the start. But I was afraid that you..."
"I would what?"
"That you would hate me," she said.
Noel's face scrunched up. "Why would I hate you?" he asked.
Emily twisted her fingers against themselves. "I did something bad. Like, really bad."
"Like what?"
She hesitated, but she walked over to the tub and sank to her knees, resting her arms on the edge of it. "My mom was sick all the time," she said. "I don't really know what was wrong with her, but she was in bed a lot. She tried to l
ook after me and my brother, but she didn't have a lot of strength, so it made her angry when she had to get up and do something. She was always angry. And it made me and my brother scared.
"We moved into this place, and none of us liked it. We always wanted to leave, but we didn't have a choice. And then my brother started to see the ghosts. I saw them too, but I tried to ignore them. I found if you ignored them, they wouldn't bother you so much. But my brother wouldn't stop. He would always scream when he saw one and tell our mom, but she couldn't see them. She wouldn't listen, and she didn't want to hear it. Every time he freaked out, she got madder and madder, and I was scared of what she would do. So I did something..."
Noel eyed Emily warily. "What did you do?"
"Our mom told my brother to take a bath one time, so he came in here, and when he was in the water, I came in too and closed the door. I made sure Mom was in bed and she couldn't hear us, then I went up to the water and made him think he was safe." Tears rolled down Emily's face. "He trusted me, but I killed him. I put my hand over his mouth and I held him underwater. He kicked and tried to scream and he made so much noise. I was so scared that she would hear us. When he stopped moving, I ran out of the bathroom, put my coat on and left the house. I ran into the woods as far as I could, scared that our mom heard me. I knew she got up and looked in the bathroom and saw what I did, and I knew she wouldn't believe me if I told her that he hit his head and drowned or something. I was so scared to come back in the house, but I got too cold and hungry outside, and I didn't know where to go.
"So I came back and went up to my room. I didn't even take my coat off; I just went right into bed and pulled the covers over me. My mom walked into my room and stabbed me with a knife. It hurt so bad, and I was so scared."
Emily unzipped her pink coat and peeled one half of it to the side. Her shirt underneath was stained red and had a thin cut in the fabric.
"And then I remember getting out of bed and seeing myself lying there. My eyes were closed and I wasn't moving. All this red was covering the sheets and I didn't know what was happening. I looked down at myself and didn't understand that I was standing beside my bed but I was in it, too. But Mom couldn't see me. Not the me standing next to the bed.
"I remember wandering around the house, trying to get her attention, but I don't think she ever saw me. I would move things, break things, and she would look and get scared, but she couldn't actually see me. I tried to leave because I was so lonely, but I could only go so far into the woods before I felt like I couldn't go any farther. Like there was something holding me back. I don't know how to describe it.
"Then one day I went into my mom's bedroom to check on her. She was laying in bed and I tried shaking her awake, but she wouldn't wake up. There was an empty pill bottle on the table next to her. I think she took a lot. And then I turned around and saw her standing behind me. She looked so sad. And then it was both of us in the house again. I don't think she ever forgave me for what I did."
Noel looked at her cautiously. He was suddenly aware of the fact that she had just told him the story of how she drowned her brother in the very bathtub where he now sat.
Emily seemed to realize this at the same time, adding, "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you."
Noel settled, seeing the genuineness on her face.
"That's why I ran away when you fell in the lake," she said, looking away. "It reminded me of what I did to my brother, and then I panicked. I wanted to help you, but I got too scared." Her eyes dragged over to him. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," he said. He wanted to offer her further condolences, but her story was a lot to swallow at once.
The room was silent for a long time.
"Your mom scares me," Noel said. He said it quietly, like he was afraid she would hear him.
"She won't hurt you," Emily said, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. "Besides, she's not the one you should be scared of."
A sharp prickle crawled up Noel's spine. "I need to get out of here, then," he said. "Before it's too late. You do too."
"Take the car," Emily said. "It's the only way for you to leave."
"I don't know how to drive!" he said.
"Put the keys in and twist," she said, taking him step by step. "When the car turns on, push the brake with your foot. You know which one's the brake, right?"
"Yeah," he said, "I'm not stupid."
"Keep your foot on there and move the stick in the middle—you know the one?—move it to the 'D'."
"And then the gas, right?"
"Yeah. And then you just steer. Take your dad's keys when he's not looking and get out of here. Go before the snow gets too high."
"I'm scared," he said.
"I know. But you can do it."
"And you'll come too?"
She brushed him off. "I can't leave."
"There must be a way!"
She shook her head. "I really wish there was. And... a part of me doesn't want you to leave. None of us want you to leave."
He looked around as if her comment had summoned all the other spirits to them. "What do they want with me and my daddy?"
"It's hard to describe," she said. "But you get so lonely being here after a while. It's different when you're dead. Even though all the other ghosts are around, it's not the same. It's like they get stale after a while. We want someone new to keep us company."
"I think I know what you mean," Noel said. "But why isn't your brother here? If he died here, why haven't I seen him?"
"You have to do something bad," Emily said. A solitary tear welled up in her left eye. "The people who do really bad things stay. The others leave."
"So where's your brother then?" Noel asked. "Heaven?"
The tears fell openly from her face now. "I hope so." Deep pain and sadness were etched into her face.
"So what do the ghosts want with me?" he asked again. "If they kill me, won't I go away like your brother did?"
She nodded. "They have something else in mind for you."
"Like what?"
She hesitated, like speaking the words would be akin to attacking him herself.
The bathroom door opened and Emily's mother, Mary, stood in the doorway. There was fire in her eyes as she glowered at the two of them. "Emily!" she barked.
Emily twisted around, surprised. She stared up in fear at her mother.
"Get out here right now!"
"But Mom!" she protested.
"Now!" Mary snapped. Her figure, slender and otherwise elegant in her white nightgown was hideous standing in the sour light of the bathroom, her face twisted.
Emily looked quickly at Noel with apology on her face. She spoke no words. She got up and followed her mother out of the bathroom, slipping past her as Mary gave one last vicious look at Noel. Then she turned and left, leaving the bathroom door halfway open and Noel sitting all alone in the cooling water.
A soft cloud of cool air drifted through the open door and then dissipated. Something disturbed the water. A solitary droplet from the tap.
Though the water was still warm, his skin crawled. He was uncomfortable. His throat was dry, and he couldn't get rid of the feeling.
His eyes trained on the bulb over the broken mirror. The filament that looped around in the glass buzzed softly.
And behind the buzz, there was something else. It came from far away, mixing in with the battering sound of the storm outside. Like the storm was a blanket muffling something that was trying to get out.
Noel trained his ears, listening. He held his breath.
The sound penetrated the noise around it, slithering seductively up to his ears. It was very quiet, like it was buried in a snow bank outside.
That hiss of static. And then the voice.
"Noel..." Laughter.
He seized up. There was a violent pull behind his solar plexus and his eyes rolled up in his head. A rapid series of images flashed behind his eyes. He saw a nurse, someone who looked to be in her thirties, but it was hard to tell; t
he pictures were going too fast. A horrible feeling ran through his chest, just like he'd felt from the pantry.
The nurse was here. And he was witnessing her crimes.
His body went limp and he blacked out.
The Nurse
Noel found himself standing in his pajamas. His blanket was tucked under his arm. His bare feet were freezing on the ground under them.
He looked up, expecting to find himself standing on that familiar highway, but he did not. He was in a long hallway. Bright lights came down from the ceiling, but they were sparsely spaced, creating pockets of darkness between them. It gave the definitive feel of nighttime.
He turned his head to the right and saw a big desk—huge to him—with a young woman sitting behind it, her hair done up in a bun. What looked to him like a paper hat sat upon it, and she stared down at something on the desk.
The whole area was quiet save for the hums and beeps of distant machines.
Noel spun around, seeing a multitude of doorways and other branching hallways. He'd seen a place like this before. He hadn't been there since he was two or three years old, but he had a vague memory of it. He thought it must be a hospital.
A call came over the intercom for something that Noel couldn't understand, and the young woman behind the counter looked up briefly, then directed her attention back down to whatever she was working on.
A door opened directly to Noel's left, and he shuffled out of the way in surprise. A small room that looked to be a pantry lay beyond, the yellow light inside clashing with the white fluorescents from the hallway.
A woman, slightly older than the one behind the desk, walked out holding a tray. Placed on it was a plate of food, a carton of milk, utensils, and a few other accompaniments.
Noel looked up and studied the face of the woman as she passed by. There was something unpleasant about her. She didn't notice him.
The woman hummed a tune to herself and walked down the long stretch. She nodded to the woman behind the desk with a smile, then she stopped at a doorway far in the distance and paused. She glanced around, as if to see if there was anyone watching her, then she disappeared into the room.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 30