Annie's Room

by Amy Cross

  “Oh...” I pause, before looking down at my legs. There are a couple of scars still, but considering how badly they were damaged, I figure that's not too bad. “No. No, my legs are fine now. A little stiff still, but that'll pass.”

  “How wonderful,” she continues. “When we came before, I felt so sorry for you, stuck up there in that little bedroom. The summer was so glorious, it was such rotten luck for you that you had to miss most of it. Why, you must be -”

  Stopping suddenly, she seems to have spotted something nearby. Turning, I realize what's wrong. Scott is on the far side of the porch, slumped over slightly in his wheelchair. For someone who doesn't know what happened, he's probably an alarming sight.

  “Is...” Harriet pauses, with obvious concern in her voice. “Is that your darling little brother?”

  “It is,” I reply, smiling as I watch Scott for a moment, before ridding my face of the smile and turning back to Harriet. “I'm afraid he had an accident. He's fine physically, but mentally... We don't know if he'll ever talk again. All he does is sit in that chair and stare into space. The doctors say a blow to the back of the head like that can cause lasting damage, but at least he's not in pain, not as far as we can tell.”

  “How awful,” Harriet replies, with tears in her eyes. “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “It's a little sensitive, actually,” I tell her. “For his sake, we prefer not to talk about it too much. We don't really know whether he can hear us, and we don't want to upset him. Would you like to come inside, by the way? I can make some tea or coffee for you.”

  “That would be lovely,” Harriet replies, as she and Tabitha follow me to the steps. “Is your mother not in?”

  “No, not really,” I reply, glancing at the basement door as I step into the kitchen. “Sorry, she's away for a while. I don't know if... I mean, I don't know when she'll be back.”

  “I hope no-one else is sick,” Harriet says, with obvious concern. “It seems your family has had such terrible luck lately.”

  “My aunt's not well, actually.” I fill the water-boiler and flick a switch on the side, before turning to her. “She's -”

  I pause for a moment as I see that while Harriet and Tabitha are smiling at me as if nothing's wrong, there's another figure standing nearby. It's little Annie, the first Annie, the rotten little girl who, according to my research, lived in this house more than one hundred and fifty years ago and drowned in the lake. When I thought Annie Garrett was haunting this house, I was wrong; the ghosts were Annie Garrett's mother, who trying to warn me, and little Annie Shaw, the first Annie. Even now, drips of water are running down Annie Shaw's rotten legs and falling onto the floor. She's the one who started this whole thing, the one who has been waiting ever since for a chance to experience the childhood she missed, the one who wanted nothing more than the love of a father. She haunted Annie Garrett, trying to experience life through her, but Annie Garrett became a twisted monster. Annie Shaw is finally happy now, though; she gets to feel everything I feel, she gets to experience real love through me, and it's all she's ever wanted.

  Sometimes I hear a whisper in my head, guiding me, but I don't mind. I can barely remember what it was like before we came to this house.

  “My mother has gone to look after my aunt,” I continue, regathering my composure and turning back to Harriet. “She really might be quite some time. Again, it's a difficult situation.”

  “Oh, that's too bad,” Harriet replies, “but at least you're here to hold the fort.”

  I nod, unable to keep from grinning with pure pride.

  Next to Harriet, Tabitha is staring at me with a hint of concern. It's tempting to believe that she suspects something, but of course that would be impossible. She's just some dumb kid, there's no way she could ever come close to guessing the truth about everything that has happened in this house. Maybe she senses that I'm a little different, but it's not exactly a crime to change over the course of a long, hot summer.

  “I'm sure your mother is very proud of you for taking on all these responsibilities,” Harriet continues. “I know it's a lot for a girl your age, but this whole house looks absolutely spotless. I'm almost tempted to say that it seems better than the first time we came over, but of course back then you were still unpacking. Still, your parents must be so proud of you, the way you've stepped up to the plate and taken over.”

  “Yes,” I reply, as the water-boiler starts to whistle, “they are proud.” I pause for a moment. “Especially Dad.”

  “And of course Tabitha and I can chip in,” she adds. “We'll come over and -”

  “No,” I say firmly.

  “We -” She frowns, as if she thinks maybe she misheard. “I'm sorry?”

  “It's very kind of you to offer,” I continue, realizing that I need to stand my ground, “but I can't possibly accept. We're fine, and we don't need your help.”

  “But -”

  “Please don't come here again,” I add. “I'd hate to have to report you for trespassing.”

  ***

  Once Harriet and Tabitha have left, I spend a little while tidying the kitchen before setting dinner on to cook. I'm using a new recipe, one that's very complex, so I put the whole thing on a low heat, figuring that the flavors will be stronger that way. Besides, there's no need to hurry.

  The dead Annie watches, of course. She can feel everything I feel, but she still likes to be in the room with me, and I don't mind her presence at all. It's good to have a little company, even if she never says anything. She just stands, dripping, staring at me with her rotten face, feeling every emotion that I feel. In a strange way, her presence is almost calming, but I think maybe that's something she does on purpose. She guides me constantly.

  “Here you go,” I say to Scott as I head out onto the porch. Crouching in front of him, I dip a spoon into the bowl of porridge and then slip a mouthful between his lips. He doesn't really respond much, but when I push the spoon further back his gag reflex kicks in.

  His eyes stare back at me. Sometimes I wonder how much he remembers about that night.

  “It's better this way,” I tell him with a smile. “Annie attracted us to this house for a reason. She had it all planned out, she reached out and found another Annie to live here. Sometimes I even think she caused my accident, so she could get what she wanted. You'll see, we can be happy here. Truly happy, but...”

  I pause for a moment, spotting a figure on the lawn. Annie Garrett's mother is still around, but I manage to ignore her and she stays well away from the house. She seems so lost, and sometimes I think I should try to find her body so she can be set free. Maybe then she can go and join her husband and daughter, wherever they ended up after they were executed. One thing's certain: Annie Garrett's ghost was never here. Just the other Annie. Little Annie.

  “We just can't let the outside world know,” I continue, turning back to Scott. “They'd see how close we are to Dad, and they'd think awful, dark things. They wouldn't understand that it's pure, that it's just a spiritual connection. There's nothing physical going on, that would be wrong, it would go against everything that the first Annie wants. She just needs to feel loved and happy, and through us... well, mainly through me, she gets that.”

  I wait for a reply, but of course none comes. Sometimes I think I see a hint of resentment in his eyes, but I'm probably imagining that. Besides, every time I start to doubt myself, or I start to wonder if maybe this whole situation is wrong, I feel that whisper in my head again, setting me back on course. It's as if the first Annie knows exactly how to calm all my fears.

  “Dad loves you, you know,” I continue, hoping for a flicker of recognition on Scott's face. “We have the perfect life here, there's no need to think about anything else. You'll see.”

  It takes a few more minutes to feed him, and all the while he simply stares at me, his eyes filled with a kind of blank horror.

  “That's good,” I tell him finally, getting to my feet. “You're doing so well these days
. I know you saw a lot that night, and I know some of it might still not make a whole lot of sense, but...” I pause for a moment, watching the faint twitch in his eyes. The truth is, Scott hasn't been the same since the night when the first Annie came back, and personally I think his mind is pretty much shot to pieces. Maybe professional help would be able to fix him, but it's not like we can afford to have the authorities looking into things. Besides, it's not a huge problem; whenever I feel myself worrying about him, the first Annie reaches into my mind and makes everything feels okay again.

  I leave Scott on the porch as I head inside. I should probably take some food down to Mom too, but lately I've been feeling less keen on her. Again, I guess that's the first Annie's influence. Maybe I'll start feeding Mom every other day, rather than every day. I'm sure she'll be fine. At the same time, sometimes I wonder...

  Turning, I see that the dead little girl has come a little closer.

  My thoughts about my mother instantly start fading.

  She'll be fine down there.

  Realizing that I have more important matters to deal with, I head through to the hallway and then I start making my way upstairs. The other Annie follows, as always; she likes to keep close, so she can share every moment of my experience. After all, it took so long for everything in this house to be perfect, and I don't blame her for wanting to enjoy herself. Stopping at the door near the top of the stairs, I look down at the words 'Annie's room' carved into the wood, and I can't help but smile. I remember when I felt trapped in the room, and there were times when I felt I'd never get out.

  Now I can't wait to get back up here each day, to experience pure and total joy, and to know that this joy is shared by others. Father is sleeping in his own room, which is how things should be. I'll wake him for dinner later.

  Trembling with anticipation, I turn the handle and open the door to my room, and then I step inside. Dinner is cooking slowly and I have time to rest for a few minutes, so I sit on the edge of my bed and start removing my shoes. The house is calm and quiet, and I'm ahead with all my chores for the day. We have the perfect family, and Dad's so proud of me, sometimes I just want to burst with happiness. Other people probably wouldn't understand the way we live, they'd probably come up with filthy assumptions, but they'd be so utterly wrong, it's laughable. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and savor the moment. A few seconds later, I realize I can hear faint drips falling onto the floorboards, and I smile.

  Behind me, the door swings shut.

  OTHER BOOKS

  BY AMY CROSS INCLUDE

  Horror

  The Farm

  3AM

  Asylum

  Meds

  Tenderling

  The Girl Clay

  The Prison

  American Coven

  The Night Girl

  Devil's Briar

  Ward Z

  Ward Z: Revelation

  The Devil's Photographer

  Fantasy / Horror

  Dark Season series 1, 2 & 3

  The Hollow Church (Abby Hart 1)

  Vampire Asylum (Abby Hart 2)

  Dead Souls Volume One: Parts 1 to 13

  Dead Souls Volume Two: Parts 14 to 26

  Lupine Howl series 1 to 4

  Grave Girl

  Graver Girl (Grave Girl 2)

  Ghosts

  The Library

  Journey to the Library (The Library Saga 2)

  The Ghosts of London

  The Vampire's Grave

  The Werewolf's Curse

  Thriller

  Ophelia

  The Dead City (Ophelia 2)

  Fallen Heroes (Ophelia 3)

  The Girl Who Never Came Back

  The Dead and the Dying (Joanna Mason 1)

  The House of Broken Backs (Joanna Mason 2)

  The Pornographer's Wife

  Other People's Bodies

  Dystopia / Science Fiction

  The Shades

  Finality series 1

  Mass Extinction Event series 1 to 4

  Also by Amy Cross

  THE FARM

  No-one ever remembers what happens to them when they go into the barn at Bondalen farm. Some never come out again, and the rest... Something about them is different.

  In 1979, the farm is home to three young girls. As winter fades to spring, Elizabeth, Kari and Sara each come to face the secrets of the barn, and they each emerge with their own injuries. But someone else is lurking nearby, a man who claims to be Death incarnate, and for these three girls the spring of 1979 is set to end in tragedy.

  In the modern day, meanwhile, Bondalen farm has finally been sold to a new family. Dragged from London by her widowed father, Paula Ridley hates the idea of rural life. Soon, however, she starts to realize that her new home retains hints of its horrific past, while the darkness of the barn still awaits anyone who dares venture inside.

  Set over the course of several decades, The Farm is a horror novel about people who live with no idea of the terror in their midst, and about a girl who finally has a chance to confront a source of great evil that has been feeding on the farm for generations.

  Also by Amy Cross

  Alice Isn't Well

  (Death Herself book 1)

  “There are lots of demons in the sky above London. The problem is, this one came crashing down to earth.”

  Ten years ago, Alice Warner was attacked and disfigured by an attacker in her own home. She remembers nothing of the attack, and she has been in a psychiatric hospital ever since. When she's finally released, however, she starts working as a security guard at an abandoned shopping mall. And that's when she starts to realize that something is haunting her, keeping just one step out of sight at all times...

  Meanwhile, seventy years earlier, a little girl named Wendy is left orphaned after a World War 2 fighter plane crashes onto her house. Taken to a monastery, Wendy is quickly singled out by the nuns for special attention. They say she has been possessed by a demon, and that there's only one way to save her soul. Fortunately for Wendy, however, there's someone else who seems to know far more about the situation.

  What is the shocking connection between Alice and Wendy, reaching out across the years? Does a demon really lurk in the girl's soul? And who is Hannah, the mysterious figure who tries to help Wendy, and who seventy years later begins to make her influence felt in Alice's life too?

  Alice Isn't Well is the first book in the Death Herself series, about a dark figure who arrives in the night, promising to help deal with the forces of evil whenever they appear.

  Also by Amy Cross

  MEDS

  (THE ASYLUM TRILOGY BOOK 2)

  “Welcome to the Overflow. And remember, all roads lead back to Lakehurst.”

  At the edge of a ruined town, a burned-out hospital houses one final, functional ward. There, a small group of doctors and nurses tend to patients who have been consigned to the Overflow. Unloved, forgotten by the people who knew them, these are the patients who will never receive visitors. If something happens to them, no-one will ask questions.

  When she starts work at Middleford Cross, Nurse Elly Blackstock thinks she's getting a second chance. She soon discovers, however, that this particular hospital is unlike any other. In one of the beds, an old man grapples with the horrors of his past, while in another there's a woman condemned to a life of darkness and silence. Ghosts stalk the corridors, and more ghosts are on the way. And watching over all of this is the hospital's administrator, Nurse Kirsten Winter, a woman who is desperately searching for someone named Annie Radford...

  Asylum: Meds is a dark horror novel about the lengths one woman will go to as she searches for the truth about the voices in her head.

 

 

 
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