Annie's Room

by Amy Cross

  “It's okay,” I tell him, putting an arm around his trembling shoulder. “Everything's going to be okay,” I add, even though I know those words sound so hollow right now. Glancing back, I see the door to the basement and realize that I'm going to have to check to see if Mom's down there. “Scott,” I continue, “I need you to do something, and it's really important, okay?”

  I wait for him to reply, before pulling back and putting my hand under his chin. When I tilt his face up, I see his tear-stained face staring back at me.

  “I need you to find the car keys,” I tell him. “Do you know where Mom and Dad kept them? They used to put them in the fruit-bowl in the old apartment, remember? What about here? Where do they keep all the keys, do you know?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Then I need you to find them,” I continue. “Look in coat pockets, in bowls, in drawers, anywhere you think they could be. Do you think you can do that?”

  He glances past me, as if he's scared that he'll see the figure again.

  “Don't think about any of that,” I add. “Scott, no-one's going to come and help us, so we have to go and get help. Not just for us, but for Mom and Dad too. I'll check the basement, but you have to find the car keys, do you understand?”

  He stares at me for a moment, before slowly nodding.

  “Okay,” I continue, using my elbows to turn around. “Meet me out front by the car, and don't worry. There's nothing here that can hurt you. Even if you think you see someone, it's just...” I pause for a moment, staring at the empty room and the doorway ahead. “It's just whispers of people, that's all. Whispers can't hurt us.”

  “But -”

  “Just go!” I shout, as I start to crawl across toward the basement door. “Ignore everything else and find those keys!”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see to my relief that he's gotten to his feet and is looking on the kitchen counter. Turning, I crawl toward the basement door and when I look up I see to my relief that the padlock is hanging loose. I reach for the handle, but it's a little higher than the others and it takes a moment before I can get a few fingertips onto the edge. I have to try several times, but finally I get the damn thing to turn and manage to pull the door open. The effort is extreme, and I'm breathless by the time I manage to look down into the darkness below.

  “Mom?” I shout. “Mom, are you down there?”

  I wait, desperately hoping that she'll reply.

  After a couple of seconds, I start to crawl forward, dropping down onto the top step. With just the kitchen's moonlit wall to help, I peer down into the darkness, but even squinting isn't enough and I can't see a damn thing. I wince with pain as I start to pull myself down a few more steps, until my hips drop onto the top step and I find that I can peer through the railings. I have no idea how large the basement is supposed to be, but I can't see anything at all. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I'm just about able to make out the brick wall extending away from the steps, but that doesn't help too much.

  “Mom?” I call out, as tears start rolling down my face. “Mom, please, I need you. Please, you have to -”

  Suddenly there's a loud bump, followed by another. I wait, frozen with fear, and to my horror I see a figure starting to make its way slowly up the steps toward me, emerging from the darkness of the basement. With a growing sense of horror, I realize that it's the woman from the lawn. She stops for a moment, her cold, dead eyes fixed on me, criss-crossed by what appear to be hundreds of little scratches; a fraction of a second later, she starts running up toward me, her feet banging on the steps as she reaches out.

  “No!” I shout, instinctively pulling back and starting to haul myself back up through the doorway as she's about to grab me. Fumbling with the door, I manage to push it shut just in time to keep her from coming out. I look up at the handle, expecting it to turn, but there's nothing.

  I wait.

  My heart is pounding so fast, I feel as if it might burst out of my chest at any moment.

  “Who are you?” I scream, leaning against the door in case she tries to get through. “What have you done with my parents?”

  A moment later, I hear someone sobbing nearby.

  I turn, but I don't see anyone. Still, the sobbing continues and I can't tell it's not Scott. It sounds like a woman, but it's coming from all around, as if someone's sorrow and grief is hanging in the air.

  For a moment, I feel as if I can't go on. I'm exhausted and in pain, and I still don't understand what's going on here. After a couple of seconds, however, my strength returns and I realize that I have to go and find Scott. Grabbing a nearby wooden chair, I push it against the basement door and wedge the back under the handle. Turning, I start crawling across the floor, heading for the porch door in the hope that Scott has found the keys and has gone to wait for my by the car. Just as I'm about to reach the door, however, I hear a banging sound, and I turn just in time to see the chair flying through the air, smashing into the opposite wall. The basement door opens and the woman steps through, her damaged eyes fixed on me.

  “Please,” I whimper, with tears running down my face, “whatever you want...”

  “You have to get out of here,” she replies with a cold, terrified voice as she turns looks toward the back door. “She's coming.”

  “Who's coming?” I ask, although I think I already know the answer. “Is it Annie? Is Annie coming?”

  I wait, before turning as I hear a bumping sound from the room above. A moment later, glancing toward the hallway, I spot something moving down the stairs. Footsteps. Slow, calm footsteps.

  “Is that her?” I ask, using my elbows to crawl past the woman and over to the porch door. “What does she want?”

  “She wants you,” the woman replies, turning to look down at me. “It might be too late.”

  “She wants me? What -”

  “Run!” she screams, staring across the lawn. “Get away from her!”

  Panicking, I turn and crawl out onto the porch and then over toward the steps. Light rain is still falling but all I can think about is that I have to get away from the house. I don't even stop when I reach the steps; instead, I throw myself down and try to stop my fall with my hands as I clatter toward the bottom. Landing hard, I let out a cry of pain as I feel my legs banging against the steps, but even that doesn't stop me. I gasp as I start to drag myself away, while looking around for some sign of Scott. I can see the car, but Scott's not with it so I look toward the trees. Figuring he must have gone that way, I start dragging myself across the lawn as rain falls all around.

  Digging my hands into the rain-soaked mud, I start pulling myself along.

  “Mom!” I scream. “Help me!”

  I don't know how I manage to keep going with the pain in my arms and legs, but somehow I manage to drag my exhausted, broken body through the mud and rain for a few more meters before looking back over my shoulder. Sure enough, there's a figure in the doorway, stepping through and making its way down to join me on the lawn.

  Annie Garrett.

  It has to be her.

  “Leave me alone!” I shout, with tears running down my cheeks. “What do you want from me?”

  Turning again, I keep going, hauling myself across the lawn even though I know the figure must be catching up to me. All I can think about is that I have to get to safety and that I have to find Scott and make sure he's okay. Hopefully Mom was able to get away, and Dad too, and eventually we can figure out exactly what the hell happened in this place. I dig my hands deeper into the mud, struggling to get a grip, until I've pulled myself a little further along. This time, however, when I bury my fingers in the mud ready to drag myself again, I feel something hard against my fingertips. A moment later, I stare in horror as I lift a bare human skull out of the mud, its bony surface lit by the moonlight. There are flecks of mud on the skull's face, but rain is quickly washing it clean, and all I can do is stare in horror, even as a shadow falls across me from behind and I realize that the woman from the house is here.


  “Annie,” a voice whispers, sounding weak and frail. “Help me.”

  “What?” I stare at the skull as I realize that the voice seemed to come from its mouth. After a moment, I start to recognize the voice, although there's no way...

  “Annie,” it says again, “please...”

  I blink, and suddenly I realize that the skull isn't a skull at all. It's my mother, with just her face poking out from the mud as if someone tried to bury her.

  “Help me,” she whispers, before looking past me. Her eyes widen in horror, and then she screams: “Annie! Help!”

  Frantically trying to dig her out from the muddy pit, I struggle until I'm able to get her arms free, which allows her to help herself. There's a thick, bloody wound on the side of her head, with fresh blood mixed with mud and running down onto her face. After a moment, I spot a shovel half-buried in the mud nearby.

  “Where's Scott?” she stammers, wincing with pain.

  “I don't know,” I reply. “Where's Dad?”

  “Your father...” She gasps as fresh blood flows from her wound. “Your father tried to kill me. He tried to bury me alive.”

  “No,” I say firmly, “Dad wouldn't do that, Dad would never -”

  “It wasn't really him,” she stammers, before looking past me. “Annie...” She lets out a faint gasp, before losing consciousness.

  “Mom!” I shout, trying to shake her back awake. “Mom, you have to listen to me! You have to -”

  I freeze as I see a shadow falling across me from behind. Suddenly the dead woman crouches down next to us, and I turn to see that she's staring straight ahead, watching the trees at the far end of the lawn.

  “She's coming,” she says, her voice filled with terror. “I tried to help you, but now she's coming.”

  “Who's coming?” I ask, staring at her.

  “Annie,” she replies. “Annie's coming.”

  “But...” I pause for a moment. “You mean Annie Garrett? Is that who's coming?”

  “No,” she replies, Annie Garrett was my daughter. She's gone, she was taken away but...” She pauses, and then she points toward the trees. “There. She's coming. The other Annie.”

  “Who?” I shout, as rain continues to fall. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Annie Shaw,” she replies. “The first Annie. She was there in the background all along, hiding. She's the one who turned my Annie into a monster. Now she's going to do the same thing to you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “You're -”

  “There!” she shouts, pointing toward the forest. “She's here!”

  Turning, I see to my horror that there's a figure just about visible in the darkness, emerging from between the trees. I watch for a moment as the figure limps slowly forward, making its way directly toward us.

  “Who's that?” I whisper, feeling a growing sense of shock creeping through my chest. After a moment, I turn to the woman. “Who is it?” I shout. “Please, you have to tell me what's happening!”

  “She's the first Annie,” she replies. “She's the one who lived here even before any of us, the one who drowned in the lake. Ever since then...” She turns to me. “All she wants is a father. Someone she can love, and who'll love her in return. She never had a childhood, but they never found her body in the lake so her soul remained and she wants to experience the love of a family. She tried to use my daughter, but it all went wrong. Now she's going to try again with you.”

  I watch as the distant figure comes closer. As it limps into a patch of moonlight, I see to my horror that it's a girl, only nine or ten years old, her entire body rotten and putrid. Scraps of torn fabric hang from her skeletal frame, and her dead face has been stripped of almost all its flesh, leaving a stunted nose and two dark, hollow eyes.

  “I'm sorry,” the dead woman whispers. “I tried to warn you.”

  “No,” I whisper, turning to see that my mother is still unconscious. “We have to get out of here,” I tell her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Mom, wake up! We have to find Dad and Scott and leave!”

  Turning, I see that the dead girl is standing over us now, staring directly at me.

  “My daughter tried to give her what she wanted,” Annie Garrett's mother says calmly, “but she ended up as a bitter, twisted monster.” She turns to me. “If you fight back, she'll do the same thing to you. Maybe it's better this way. Just give the little girl what she wants. Let her feel the love of a family through you. Don't fight it.”

  As the rotting girl reaches down toward me through the rain, all I can do is scream.

  Twenty

  Seventy-one years ago

  “Rebecca Garrett,” the warden says solemnly as he stands before me, “before the judgment of the court is carried out, is there anything you wish to say?”

  Strapped into the chair, with thick restraints around my legs, wrists and neck, I stare at the imbecile. He's just like all the others. They managed to hold a full trial without ever realizing the truth; they think Annie Garrett is dead and buried somewhere, and they think I'm Mother. Father and I never told them the truth, of course. Father has barely spoken a word since the day the police turned up at the house, while I refuse to explain the situation. I would rather die like this, than cheapen the truth by whispering it into the ears of idiots.

  “I'll take your silence as a refusal to speak,” the warden continues. “It will be noted in the records that you waived your opportunity to make a statement.”

  As he turns and walks away, he doesn't see the little girl standing in the middle of the room. Dripping wet and rotten, she stares at me with dark eyes. I've seen her every day since Father and I were dragged from our home; the girl seems to be watching over me, as if she wants to witness my fate. I have no doubt that she is the first Annie, Annie Shaw, the little girl who once lived in our house and who drowned in the lake beyond the forest. Sometimes, when the world is quiet or when I'm close to sleep, I feel as if I can hear her voice whispering in my thoughts. In fact, looking back over the events of the past few years, I'm sure she must have been meddling, manipulating the situation and perhaps even changing the way we all behaved.

  Did Father sense her too? Is that why he seemed so thoughtful all the time? Out there working so often, he must surely have realized that he was being watched by this little girl who wanted a family again.

  On the far side of the room, the warden and his assistants are making ready to throw the switch and end my life. One of them has taken a black hood from a box, and now he's coming over to me.

  “I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted,” I whisper, staring at the dead girl. “Perhaps we can be together again at the house. Perhaps someone else will move in, and she can give you a family?”

  As soon as he reaches me, the man places the black hood over my head. I suppose these fools don't want to see my face as I die, but now I'm in darkness I feel quite certain that the little girl is still there, still watching from beyond the grave. I never realized it back at the house, but when I felt I was being watched from the trees, I must have been sensing her presence. I rather feel that she drove me to kill Mother, that without the little girl's interference I would never have reached this point. Still, I cannot blame her, even though I should. She has twisted my mind to such a degree that I can now only see the world from her point of view.

  “When you're ready,” the warden calls out from the far side of the room.

  I hear footsteps walking to the far wall.

  Closing my eyes, I prepare for death. If there is any life beyond this one, I feel certain that after the brief pain I experience while dying, I shall find myself back at the house. I also believe that Father, who they tell me was executed last week, will be there too.

  Suddenly I feel something touching my left hand. Little fingers link with mine and squeeze my hand tight. It's Annie, the first Annie, and as soon as her flesh touches mine I feel an overwhelming sense of love bursting through my soul. She's neither cruel nor vindictive, and she
's certainly not evil. She just wants a family.

  The last thing I hear is the sound of the lever being pulled, and the last thing I feel is a massive surge of power that bursts through my body and escapes from my lips as a dying gasp. And then comes the vast dark emptiness of death.

  Epilogue

  I hear the car before I see it. There's an engine somewhere beyond the trees, and sure enough a red sports car comes into view a moment later. By the time it pulls up in the driveway, I can already see who's inside.

  “Well hello there!” Harriet Roland coos as she gets out of the car, waving at me and grinning. “How are you doing there, neighbor? Do I spy a young lady who's finally out of those horrendous plaster casts?”

  Having spent the morning sitting on the porch steps, patiently transplanting spinach seeds into their new pots, I'm somewhat taken aback by the sudden arrivals. Still, I wipe my hands on the sides of my jeans and get to my feet, while forcing a smile. I know it's important to present a calm face to the world, to show good character, and I figure it should be pretty easy to make Harriet and her daughter think that everything is okay.

  “Oh my God!” Harriet continues. “Look at you, Annie! Up and about, and out of those wretched plaster casts already.” She turns to Tabitha, who's a little slower getting out of the car. “Look, darling! Annie's all better!”

  Tabitha smiles at me, but there's a hint of concern in her eyes. If I didn't know better, I'd be worried.

  “I'm sorry we haven't been out sooner,” Harriet continues, shaking my hand enthusiastically, “but we were away for the summer, visiting our house by the beach. You know how it is, you go out there intending to spend a week or two, and then before you know it the summer is almost over and you wonder where all the time went!”

  “Sure,” I reply, smiling cautiously as Tabitha comes over to join us.

  “Do they hurt?” Harriet asks.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Your legs. Do they still hurt?”