The House We Haunted and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  "I don't know," I say, forcing a smile.

  "Why not?"

  "Just do some more drawing," I tell him.

  "We could sneak out without Mum knowing," he suggests.

  "You're kidding, right?" I reply. "Seriously? Do you have any idea how much trouble we'd be in?"

  "Maybe she wouldn't know."

  "She knows everything," I mutter. "I get why you want to go out, but you have to be sensible. She'd probably come over there and drag us back. Like, literally drag us back, kicking and screaming through the streets, and then she'd interrogate us about what we'd told Uncle Charlie and what he'd said about her." I pause as Mum's voice gets louder downstairs; she's even more furious at Ellen than usual. "Maybe we can go tomorrow," I add, hoping to offer him at least a breadcrumb of hoe.

  John doesn't reply, probably because he knows that Mum rarely lets us go anywhere apart from school.

  Downstairs, I can hear Ellen crying as Mum continues to shout. I want to go and help my sister, but I know that I'd only make things a thousand times worse. Hopefully Ellen will finally learn that hiding in the bathroom never works, not in the long-term. She's older than me, but she still hasn't learned the best way to deal with Mum's moods. You can never entirely avoid trouble, but it's still possible to avoid the most obvious flare-ups. As the furore downstairs proves, Ellen has never quite managed to work out how to protect herself.

  For her own sake, I hope she understands one day. Either that, or I hope we find a way to escape the house forever.

  Chapter Five

  Ellen

  Sitting alone in the garden, I stare at the house and try to imagine what it would be like if Mum died.

  There'd be a lot of fuss, for sure. Dad would be upset, and I suppose other family members would come to visit and sit around crying. The body would be taken away and fixed up ready for the funeral, and then we'd all have to wear black while we sat in a church. I don't know if there'd be hymns, but I wouldn't mind if we had to sing. I'm not sure what would happen next, but I suppose Dad would get all her stuff and Kate, John and I would get a few weeks of school. Maybe Dad would take us on holiday, and when we got back we might end up moving somewhere else. Eventually, Dad would get a new wife, and she'd become our new Mum. I know she probably wouldn't be perfect, but I'd be happy if she was just nice and didn't shout at us.

  That's all I want.

  Maybe it makes me a bad person to be fantasizing about Mum's death, but I can't help it. The thought of her body being laid out in a coffin is so attractive, and right now it's the only thing that makes me feel good. I can barely even imagine how relieved I'd be if I could stare at her dead face and know - really know - that I'd never have to hear her voice again, or see that look of cold fury in her eyes. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I desperately want her to die, or if she can't die, then I want her to at least leave us all along forever.

  It's not my fault.

  It's her fault that I hate her, and I'm not the only one. Everyone hates her, and she knows it too. The whole reason she's so paranoid is that she knows everyone's always talking about how horrible she is.

  Looking down at my bare feet, I start picking dirt from under my toenails. It's been a bad day so far, and I can still her Mum's voice ringing in my ears. Some mornings, she just seems to wake up angry, and then it's only a matter of time while we all wait to see what's going to set her off. I think she actually likes shouting, especially at me, but in a way it's good when she finally blows up, because at least then she starts to get tired, and eventually she tells me to get out of her sight. That's when I know that I can finally get the hell away from her, and I usually come out to the garden so that I can get away from the horrible atmosphere inside.

  Now it's the calm after the storm, and I'm more relaxed than ever. She probably won't blow her top again for at least a couple more days, so this is the quietest part of the cycle. Hopefully, next time it'll be Kate or John who get told off. I feel bad for wanting them to get into trouble, but I need a break, even if it's just for a week.

  Looking up at the bedroom windows, I feel a shiver of annoyance pass through my body at the thought that Kate and John didn't come and help me. They never help, but while I can understand that John is a bit too young, Kate should at least have the courage to come downstairs and stand up for me; instead, she cowered in her bedroom, ignoring Mum's shouts and looking after her own skin. She probably thinks she's so much better than me, and then later she'll come and tell me that I mustn't be made at her.

  Spotting movement in the corner of my eye, I turn and look toward the bushes that run along the edge of the garden. At first, I don't see anything, but then I notice something slipping through the tall grass; I stare a little longer, and finally I realize that there's a bare, arched back making its way slowly toward me, with the bones of its spine poking out from under its tight, pale gray skin and the rest of its body, including its face, hidden beneath the long grass. I take a deep breath as I realize that it looks like the same creature that was on my bed last night, and finally I get to my feet and make my way over to the middle of the lawn, so that nothing can sneak up on me.

  As I watch the shape making its way closer, I realize that I can hear a faint rustling sound as the creature crawls through the bushes. All I can see, still, is its arched back, but I have no doubt that it can see me, or that it's coming to finish whatever it started last night. Fortunately, this time I have no trouble moving my arms and legs, so I turn and head toward the back door before stopping as I realize that Mum told me not to go back inside until she called for me. I glance over my shoulder and see that the shape is still in the bushes, but I know it won't be long before it makes a move, so I hurry around the side of the house until I reach the double wooden doors that lead down into the cellar.

  I hate the cellar, but at least I can hide down there. At least I'll be safe.

  Pulling the doors open, I immediately see that - as usual - there are spiders on the walls all around the entrance. With tiny little black bodies and long, thin legs, they seem to always spend the whole summer just waiting around the cellar door, and normally they're more than enough to make me keep away, but this time I'm more worried about the creature in the garden. After checking over my shoulder to make sure that no-one can see where I'm going, I squeeze through the door while making sure to keep as far from the walls as possible, until finally I get past the spiders and down into the dusty space beneath the house.

  I stop and listen.

  Above, Mum walks across the kitchen floor, her heavy feet clomping about.

  And then silence.

  It's cold down here, and dark. The cellar of this house has exactly the same layout as the floor above, with all the same walls and doors, almost like someone has built a replica of the main part of the house but left it completely empty. The floor, walls and ceiling are made entirely out of concrete, with a few pieces of plasterboard stuck to the walls here and there, and only a few old, dirty paint tins near the door indicate that anyone has ever been down here. I think Dad pops down from time to time, mainly to store stuff or to fix the fuses, but I doubt Mum has ever been to the cellar, and I'd definitely know if Kate or John ever came down.

  This is my new favorite part of the house.

  Above, there's the sound of a muffled voice, and I immediately realize that it's my mother. For a moment, I'm worried that she might be looking for me, but then I realize that she's on the phone. I can't make out what she's saying, but I guess she's probably telling Dad that I've been bad. He never really seems to believe what she says, although I'm sure he'll at least pretend to be angry at me later. Sometimes I think he's scared of Mum too, and that he's almost as much of a prisoner here as the rest of us. Then again, he's an adult, so he's in a much better position to change things.

  I wish he'd take us away. I don't even care where we'd go. Just... anywhere. I want to get away from Mum, and I want to get away from this house. In a way, it's almost like they're
part of the same problem.

  I walk over to the small window that runs along the top of the far wall, and which allows me to see out into the garden. The glass is dusty and scratched, but I can definitely see that no-one seems to be coming this way, which hopefully means that the creature has no idea that I came this way. Breathing as quietly as possible, I stand completely still. I don't really want to do anything while I'm down here; I just want to hide, and keep out of the way as much as possible. I can occasionally hear Mum's footsteps above, but for the most part this place is like a kind of sanctuary. I never realized I could hide down here before, but now it seems to simple. No-one, not even Kate, knows about this place.

  It's mine.

  Chapter Six

  Kate

  "I'm going to find Ellen," I say, getting to my feet. "It's been too long."

  "Can I stay here?" John asks, not even looking up from his drawing.

  I pause for a moment. "No," I say eventually. "You'll have to go to your own room."

  "Why?"

  "Because I said so. You know what Mum's like if she finds us in the wrong parts of the house."

  "Why's this the wrong part of the house?" he asks, finally glancing up at me with an annoyed look on his face.

  "It just is," I reply. "In her head, anyway. If she comes up and finds you in this room, she'll think something's going on. It doesn't even matter what, she'll just go off on some angry rant about people keeping secrets. She's probably already starting to stew about something again."

  "Mum doesn't like secrets, does she?" he asks.

  "She doesn't even let us have a lock on the bathroom door," I point out.

  "Why not?"

  "Because she's paranoid."

  "But why?"

  "I don't know!" I tell him, trying not to sound like I'm getting angry even though his questions are getting pretty goddamn irritating. "She just thinks people are plotting against her all the time, and she'll want to know why you're in here when Ellen and I aren't, and it doesn't matter what you tell her, she won't believe you. Come on, John, you know what she's like. Please, don't let me be the only one who realizes that we need to be a little bit careful about things."

  "Fine," he mutters, grabbing some pencils and getting up from the floor. "You're almost as bad as her, you know."

  "I'm really not," I reply, leading him out onto the landing. To be honest, the suggestion that I'm anything like Mum is pretty much the biggest insult anyone's ever thrown at me. I spent a lot of time thinking about ways that I might accidentally start to develop her traits, and I'm always very careful to make sure that I reject anything that even vaguely reminds me of the way she acts. "I'm nothing like her," I add, "so shut up."

  "You are," he whispers. "You -"

  "Don't whisper," I hiss.

  Downstairs, there's the sound of a cupboard door being opened, then a pot being taken from a shelf, and then the door closing again. Mum might have stopped shouting, but she's still on the move and we can't afford to relax, not even for a second.

  "If she hears us whispering," I say quietly, leaning closer to him, "that's another thing that might set her off. She'll think we're plotting against her. You know what it's like. She's convinced that everyone's always talking about her and planning things anyway, and she'll just get angry again. You don't want that, do you?"

  "Can I come with you?" he asks.

  I shake my head.

  "Why not?"

  "I want to see if Ellen's okay," I whisper, keeping my voice so low, even I can barely hear it. "You know she gets upset when Mum shouts at her, and she's probably..." I pause for a moment as I realize that once again I'm going to have to go and hunt for her. Ellen always tries to curl up into a ball when she's feeling stressed, and unfortunately she's annoyingly good at finding new hiding places. "Just go to your room," I say, heading to the top of the stairs. "Unless you wanna be down with Mum. I'm sure she can find something for you to do."

  "Come and get me when you've found Ellen," he replies, sloping through to his room. "I don't want to be in there all day. I want to do something fun."

  "Good luck," I mutter as I head down to the kitchen. Thankfully, Mum is nowhere to be seen, which I guess means she's either in the bathroom or checking the internet. Either way, I'm glad not to have to run into her right now, because she'd only quiz me about Ellen's whereabouts. Grabbing my coat from the hook, I slip my shoes on and open the back door.

  Just once, I wish someone else would look after Ellen.

  Chapter Seven

  Ellen

  "Ellen! Where are you?"

  I watch through the window as Kate makes her way across the lawn. She's heading straight for the bushes where I saw the creature, but I'm pretty sure she's not in any danger. After all, the creature is only really interested in me, so I'm sure it'll leave her well alone. In fact, her presence is probably helpful, since it means that the creature's going to have to be more careful.

  "Ellen!" she calls out again, although she's clearly trying to keep her voice below a certain level, in case Mum hears her. "It's me! Do you want to play?"

  I don't reply.

  She glances this way and I quickly duck down.

  "Ellen, where are you?" she asks, and I hear her feet tramping across the grass.

  Standing up again, I see that she's making her way across the garden. Thankfully, she didn't spot me just now, and I can't help feeling a little superior, as if I've managed to trick her.

  "Ellen!" she calls out, he voice sounding further away. "Ellen, come on! It's me!"

  Turning away from the window, I make my way through to another part of the cellar. It's dark in here, so even if Kate decides to come down and look for me, there's no way she'll find me. She knows I hate the spiders, and I pulled the doors shut after myself, so the most she'll do is poke her head inside and take a quick look. Besides, she probably thinks I want to be found, when the truth is that I just want to get away from everyone. In fact, as I step further into the shadows, I realize that I can't even see my own hands.

  It's almost like I've disappeared.

  Spotting a box in the corner, I walk over and open the lid to find that it's filled with some of the books we used to read when we were younger. They're just stupid picture books, really, but as I take one out and start looking through the page, I can't help but think back to the days when everything was so much easier. Even Mum didn't seem quite so angry, or at least she directed her anger at Dad instead of at us. Sometimes, I think that the house uses her as a way to get its anger out. As I reach the end of the book, I'm suddenly overcome by a feeling of sadness, so I put it back in the box, close the lid, and turn to go through to another part of the cellar.

  Stopping for a moment, I listen to the silence. Every so often, I still hear Kate calling out for me, but for the most part I'm in a haven of peace and quiet. Even Mum, who normally stamps about the house all day, seems to have stopped moving for a while, so it's surprisingly easy to just stand and soak in the atmosphere. I can almost believe that I'm far away from the house now, as if I've left it all a long way behind. If I ever grow up, that's what I want to do: I want to keep running until I'm as far away as I can get, and then I want to never, ever come back. I hope Kate and John will come with me, but if they refuse, I'll just have to leave them behind. If they want to stay here and live with Mum and Dad forever, that's their own stupid choice.

  I stare into the darkness.

  A faint smile crosses my lips.

  Suddenly, a hand reaches out from behind my head and clamps itself over my mouth, before pulling me back into the darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  Kate

  "Ellen!" I shout as I reach the bottom of the garden. "Where are you?"

  I stand in silence for a moment, with the only sound being a faint rustle in the long grass that runs along the bottom of the fence. Turning, I look back toward the house and realize with a frown that Ellen's proving to be more difficult than usual to locate. I mean, she's good
at hiding, but she's not that good, and I usually find her eventually. This time, however, I've been out here for half an hour, and there's still no sign of her. Usually, when she hides, it's because she wants someone to eventually find her, but I can't help wondering if this time she actually wants to stay hidden.

  Over in the bushes, there's a louder rustling sound. I glance over, and for a moment it occurs to me that maybe Ellen could be hiding somewhere in there. Then again, the space isn't really big enough, and Ellen hates getting dirty, so it's probably just a cat.

  Not that we have a cat, but still...

  "Ellen?" I ask, taking a step closer.

  The rustling stops.

  "Are you in there?" I continue, reaching out and pushing some of the grass aside. "If you are, can you give me some kind of sign?"

  No response.

  Sighing, I realize that she's probably curled up in the undergrowth.

  "I seem to spend half my life looking for you," I add. "I'm not complaining, but I wish we could have some kind of secret deal so that I'd always know where to find you. Don't you think that'd be better? It might even be fun. We could make it so Mum never, ever finds out about it." I wait for an answer. "The thing is," I continue, "this is getting kinda tiring, don't you think? I mean, if you really wanted to hide, you could probably do a much better job, right? Instead, you're waiting for me to find you."

  I step forward and pull more of the grass out of the way, but there's no sign of anyone. Whatever was in there, it wasn't my sister after all.

  "Fine," I mutter, turning and walking toward the house, before stopping next to the double wooden doors that lead down into the cellar. One of Ellen's greatest fears is the wall of spiders just inside those doors, and it's hard to believe that she'd ever risk hiding in the cellar, but then again I suppose it might be a good place to go if she really wants to keep out of the way. I pull one of the doors open and lean through, and sure enough there are a couple of dozen spiders standing on the walls, as if they're waiting for something.