by Amy Cross
“Keep back” Sarah told him. “Just let me do this.” Reaching down, she held out a hand. “My name is Sarah,” she told the woman. “I'm John's wife.”
Barely able to keep her eyes open as she looked up into the light, the old woman seemed too scared to accept the offer of help.
“Your name's Elizabeth, isn't it?” Sarah continued. “John told me that once. Please, I don't really understand what's happening here, but we can get you the help you need. Everything's going to be okay.”
Still reticent, Elizabeth stared at Sarah for a moment before slowly reaching up and taking her hand. Her bones creaked as she began to climb up through the hatch, and she had to be supported as she stumbled unsteadily toward a chair. She was painfully thin, with pale skin having dried to her old bones and become almost translucent in the darkness, while her night-dress had rotted away to reveal the bare flesh beneath. There was a terrible smell coming from her, too, and most of her hair had faded away. As her whole body trembled, the old woman let out a gasp of pain when she finally reached the chair, and she still couldn't open her eyes properly.
Feeling nauseous, Scott stepped back and turned away.
“Oh my God,” Sarah stammered, watching as Elizabeth struggled for breath. “This isn't possible. None of this can really be happening.”
The old woman tried to say something, but all that came from her throat was a dry, rasping gasp.
“I'll get you some water,” Sarah said, hurrying to the sink and filling a glass before returning and holding it out for Elizabeth. Realizing that the old woman's hands were trembling too much, she held the glass to her lips and helped her to drink. “We have food,” she continued, “but I don't know what I should give you. We're going to have to call an ambulance and get them to look at you.”
“Where is he?” Elizabeth whispered as soon as she'd finished the water.
“John? He's not here right now. He's missing, I was hoping you'd know where to find him.”
“Missing?” The old woman paused for a moment. Finally able to open her eyes, she stared straight ahead with milky white pupils that were freckled with blood-spots. “After everything he did... that boy... doesn't even have the courage... to face me...”
“I don't know why any of this happened,” Sarah replied, with tears in her eyes, “but we're going to make it right. We're going to make sure that you get the help you need, and we're going to find John and we're going to get him to explain whatever's going on here...” Glancing at Scott for a moment, she saw the fear in her son's eyes. “I'm not going to let my family fall apart like this,” she continued, turning back to Elizabeth. “I promise.”
“Water,” the old woman whispered. “I need more water.”
“Of course.”
Scott watched as his mother headed back to the sink. After a moment, he looked over at the old woman and saw that she was eying him with dark, suspicious eyes.
“You look like your father.”
He stared at her, too scared to reply.
The old woman nodded. “So much like him, it's almost...”
“Katie looks like John too,” Sarah said, refilling the glass. “I guess the third one'll maybe take after me.”
“That same disgusting face,” the old woman hissed. “Weak, pathetic, not even worthy of life.”
Sarah froze, before turning to her. “What did you -”
Before she could finish, Elizabeth lunged at Scott, landing on top of him and knocking him to the ground while digging her fingernails into the edge of his face. Long and ragged, her nails sliced into his flesh and even though he tried to push her off, he couldn't help but cry out.
“Stop!” Sarah shouted, grabbing Elizabeth's arms and pulling her back. “Leave him alone!”
Panicking, she slammed the old woman into the wall, desperate to rescue her son. Without giving Elizabeth a chance to strike again, she pushed her away and then dropped down to check on Scott, who was sobbing as blood ran down his face from the slices around his forehead and cheeks.
“It's okay,” Sarah told him, taking a look at the cuts and quickly realizing that they were mostly superficial. “I'm going to get you out of here, this whole place is insane.” She turned, looking for Elizabeth but seeing no sign of her.
“She fell down there,” Scott whimpered, pointing toward the open hatch that led down to the basement.
Stepping over to the hatch, Sarah looked down and saw to her horror that Elizabeth's crumpled body was down at the bottom of the steps.
“I...” Pausing, Sarah realized she'd accidentally pushed the old woman to her death. “No, please...”
“Yep,” Hannah said with a sigh, coming back through from the hallway, “my bag was in the bin. Can you believe that? I mean, I know John's subconscious mind probably wanted to erase any evidence that I'd been here, but...”
She stopped suddenly, watching as Sarah turned to Scott and started dabbing his wounds with a tissue.
“Were you bleeding when I left the room?” Hannah asked with a frown, before looking at the hatch. “Was that open?”
“I tried to help her,” Sarah replied, still working on her son's injuries. “She attacked Scott.”
“Where is she now?” Hannah muttered, hurrying to the hatch and looking down, before her eyes opened wide with shock. “Please tell me she's just taking a nap.”
“I had to get her off him,” Sarah stammered. “I didn't mean to push her, but she was hurting him. It was self defense!”
“No,” Hannah continued, hurrying down the steps and kneeling next to Elizabeth's body. “No, this can't be happening. This is very bad.” She reached out and pressed two fingers against the side of Elizabeth's neck, searching for a pulse, before feeling broken bones crunching beneath the skin. She checked the old woman's wrist, too, before sitting back.
“Is she okay?” Sarah asked, watching from the top of the steps.
“Okay?” Hannah replied, sitting back and staring at Elizabeth's body for a moment before looking up at Sarah. “Is she okay? No, she's not okay, her neck's broken. She's dead! She survived twenty years in the basement, and then you pushed her down the goddamn stairs!”
“It was an accident,” Sarah continued, looking back at Scott and seeing that his cuts were starting to bleed again. Grabbing his shoulders, he turned him around so he couldn't see down through the hatch. “Don't look,” she told him, taking another tissue from the side and dabbing at his face again. “It's going to be okay, I promise you. Everything is going to be absolutely fine, there's no need to worry. You have to believe me. Everything is going to be fine.” She waited for him to show her that he understood. “Scott? You believe me, don't you?”
He nodded cautiously.
“I promise,” she added, kissing his forehead. “It's going to be okay.”
“This is awful and we're in a massive amount of danger,” Hannah said suddenly, emerging through the hatch. “I never panic usually, but I'm panicking now. I hope you're both suitably terrified, because we have a serious problem.”
Sarah turned to her.
“We need to find your husband” Hannah added. “Fast.”
“He's still got Katie,” Sarah replied.
“I told you not to open the hatch door,” Hannah continued. “Did you not hear me say that? I was very clear and very explicit, did I somehow leave some room for doubt?”
“She was sobbing,” Sarah pointed out. “I couldn't leave her down there like that, I was trying to help.”
“And now she's dead, which is really bad news, not only for her but also for us.”
“I swear it was an accident.”
“I don't care if it was an accident or not,” Hannah told her, “I care that while she was still alive, there was no ghost. Whatever else she was, she was mortal and corporeal and it was fairly easy to keep tabs on her. I was actually kind of relieved, I thought everything would be fine. I thought I was pretty much done here.”
“But -”
“And now she's dead,
” Hannah continued, “which means that after twenty years, now she really is a ghost.”
“Does that...” Sarah paused for a moment. “Wait, what did you say?”
“Now that she's finally dead, her soul has been freed and she's a ghost. And given everything that happened to her over the past few decades, I doubt she's in a very good mood. She won't be restricted to this house, either. She can go more or less anywhere, at least if there's some kind of psychological link.” She looked toward the window. “She'll be able to find your husband. She'll go for him.”
“What do you mean, go for him?”
“I mean we have to find him before it's too late,” Hannah continued, turning back to her. “Come on, you have to know somewhere in this town that he might be. He wouldn't have taken your daughter if he didn't have somewhere in mind, but he definitely isn't anywhere in this house so...” She paused for a moment, as if an idea had struck her, before heading to the window and looking out.
“I don't have a clue where he might be,” Sarah said, wiping more blood from Scott's face. “I think maybe it's time to call the police.”
“Fat lot of good they'll do,” Hannah muttered, before turning to her. “They'll only get in the way. John lived in this house with his grandmother after his mother died. Is that right?”
Sarah nodded.
“And he and his mother lived somewhere else in this town, before his mother died?”
“I'm not sure where.”
“Then we'd better find out quickly,” Hannah continued, “because I'm starting to get the feeling that maybe this isn't the only childhood home that John has bought recently. I think he's taken Katie to meet his mother's ghost. The problem is, now she's finally dead, his grandmother's ghost will be waiting for him.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Today
“I'm tired,” Katie whimpered, as John led her along the dark garden path. “Can we go home now?”
“Soon,” he replied, forcing a smile in attempt to get her to relax. “I just want to show you something first.”
As they reached the front door, Katie looked up at the pitch-black house that towered above her. Compared to the house on Everley Street, this house was much taller and looked older, with a high, pointed roof and black, curtainless windows. At the same time, it was so big and so dark, and so imposing, that Katie felt as if it might topple over at any moment and crush her.
“Whose house is this?” she asked cautiously.
“It's mine now,” he replied, taking some keys from his pocket. “It was my mother's, a long time ago. I lived here with her before she died. Then I had to go and live with my grandmother in that other house, but I never liked that as much.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing the house's dark interior. “I was always so much happier here. Despite her faults, my mother was a good woman. She was the one who got me interested in writing, you know. She used to write stories for me, and she encouraged me to come up with my own as well. When she died...”
He paused, thinking back for a moment to the day when he'd been in his bedroom and had heard screams coming from the bathroom.
“Can we go home?” Katie asked, her eyes sore with tiredness now. “I want to go to bed.”
“Soon,” he told her, taking her hand and leading her across the threshold, into the dark hallway. “There's nothing to be afraid of,” he added, trying the light-switch but finding it disconnected. “It's just a house. Trust me, there have been times when I've worried about ghosts in various places, but now I'm certain they don't exist. If they did, my grandmother would have started haunting me a long, long time ago. At the same time...” He paused. “I have to try one more time. Just to be sure.”
“I don't like it here,” Katie replied, pulling away but unable to slip her hand out of his. “I want to go.”
“Not yet.” Reaching out, he swung the front door shut, shrouding the pair of them in darkness. “Don't worry,” he continued, “your eyes will adjust soon. Besides, I still remember the layout of the place as if it was yesterday:” He led her forward, across the hallway toward the foot of the stairs. A patch of moonlight covered the floor, shining through a window high up on the landing. “I don't even know why I bought the place,” he continued. “I just decided one day that I wanted to buy all the houses where I lived when I was younger, but...”
Pausing, he turned to her.
“Tonight's the night.”
“What night?” she asked.
Crouching in front of her, he looked into her tired eyes. “When my mother died, she told me that if there was any way to come back, she'd visit me. When my grandmother died, she said something similar, except that she was angry. I thought my grandmother's ghost would be haunting the house on Everley Street, but there was no sign of it. Still, I need to test it again. Even though I'm sure ghosts don't exist now, I want to see.”
He turned and looked up the stairs, but there was no sign of a presence.
“I'm cold,” Katie told him.
“Here.” Removing his jacket, he placed it over her shoulders. “Better?”
“I'm tired.”
“Just wait a little while longer,” he continued, getting to his feet. “I'll make it up to you, I promise, I just think maybe having you here will help. You look a lot like my mother, so maybe -”
Suddenly there was a faint creak from above.
“What was that?” Katie asked, her voice filled with fear.
“Nothing,” he said calmly, staring at the ceiling, “or... maybe something. That's what we're here to find out.”
“Daddy, I want to go!” she hissed, trying once again to pull free from his grip. “Daddy, you're hurting me!”
“Then stop struggling,” he said firmly, pulling her closer. “You're just going to have to be brave for a little while longer, Katie. We all have to face our fears at some point, and there's nothing here that can hurt you. You trust me, don't you?”
“I want to go,” she whimpered. “I don't like this place.”
“Why not?”
Staring up the stairs, Katie paused for a moment, listening to the silence of the house. “I just don't.”
“Try to put it into words. Tell me what's unsettling you.”
She paused. “I feel like there's someone here,” she said finally. “I don't like it.”
“If there's anyone here,” he replied, “it can only be my mother, and she'd never hurt anyone. I was hoping she'd be drawn to you, since you and her are so alike, and I think it might be working. Come on.” He tried to lead her up the stairs, but she held back. “I think you're right. I feel a presence too. Katie -”
“No!” she said firmly.
Sighing, he reached down and scooped her up into his arms, before starting to carry her up the stairs.
“Put me down!” she shouted. “I don't want to go up there!”
“Katie -”
“Stop!”
As his daughter struggled to get free, John carried her up to the landing and then tried to set her down, only for her to pull away and try to run. Catching her just in time to keep her from tumbling down the stairs, he held her firmly and forced her around to face him in the moonlight.
“Katie,” he said firmly, “I want you to listen to me.”
“There's someone else here!” she shouted, with tears in her eyes. “I don't like it!”
“You have to be brave,” he replied, “just for a little while longer. I need your help with this.” He paused, before looking along the landing toward one of the doors. “Please, Katie,” he continued, “I need you to help me, and the sooner you cooperate, the sooner we can leave. Do you understand?” Turning to her, he found that she'd stopped struggling.
“I want to go,” she sobbed. “Please...”
“Come with me and let's look in the rooms,” he said with a smile, taking hold of her hand again. “It's been so long since I set foot in this place, almost thirty years. I was about your age the last time. Is it hard to imagine I was so yo
ung once?”
“I don't like this house,” she replied.
“And what about the house on Everley Street? Did you like that?”
She shook her head.
“I think you can sense these things,” he continued. “I think you're open to them. Tell me what you felt in the house on Everley Street.”
She paused. “Something angry.”
“It sounds like you were sensing my grandmother's spirit,” he told her. “Even if she wasn't there as a ghost, she might have been there in some other form. What about this house? What do you feel now?”
She turned and looked along the dark corridor, her eyes widening with horror as she looked at one particular door. “The same thing,” she whispered, “but different. Angrier.”
He shook his head. “Try again. I think you're getting confused.”
“No,” she replied, “I'm not. It's the same thing, but it's angrier and it feels more free, like it can get closer to us.”
“If you can feel any kind of presence here at all,” he told her, “it'll be my mother's. She's not angry, Katie, I promise, you're just a little mixed up.” Still holding her hand, he began to lead her along the dark landing. “Let me show you my old bedroom, it might help you to see things better.”
“I don't want to,” she whimpered, trying to hold him back.
“We all have to do things we don't want to do sometimes,” he replied, as they approached one of the doors and he pushed it open, revealing a dark, empty room. “Sometimes we have to leave a place we don't want to leave, or a person we don't want to leave. Sometimes we have to be brave when we want to run. Do you think you can be brave for me tonight, Katie?”
Turning, she looked toward the door at the far end of the landing. She knew something was in there, waiting for them, but she was scared to tell he father in case he decided to go and look.
“This was my room,” he said, leading her through to the bare room. “What do you think?”
Still looking over her shoulder, Katie kept her eyes fixed on the farthest door.
“It wasn't very fancy,” John continued, “but it was home. Before my mother died, I was happy here, even after my father left. My mother was troubled, she'd been damaged when she was younger by my grandmother, but she was devoted to me and she did everything she could to look after me. I understood that, even back then, and in return I did my best to help her. Even when she started to get sad, she refused to slow down, and then...” He paused for a moment. “She used to write stories for me, Katie. Wonderful, fun stories. I wish I still had them, I wish I could read them to you, but my grandmother burned them all.” Letting go of her hand, he made his way to the far corner of the room. “My bed was right here. She used to sit on the end and read to me.”