Duality

by Nasser Rabadi

  Shawn ran to the door and tried to open it. The knob twisted, but it seemed as though the door was fused to the frame; there was no opening it. Whoever was behind it pounded with both fists.

  “Rose? Shawn? Help me!” a voice from behind the door said eerily.

  “Valerie? Are—are you really alive?” Shawn yelled.

  Rose shut her eyes. All she saw was darkness, but then an image flashed behind her eyelids: she pictured Valerie—her skin now grey with a touch of greenish slime and boils scattered all over—beating against the door. She pictured the cuts, half-healed and oozing pus. She pictured Valerie’s single eye blinking, and how tough it must be to breathe through a sliced off nose. Whatever she pictured wasn’t Valerie anymore, but a monster.

  What scared her more than that was the sudden silence that filled the room. It was peaceful. But she did not want to open her eyes. There was no more rattling of the door; no more Shawn or Valerie speaking. Had the door opened? Had Val gotten Shawn? Was she out for revenge? And most importantly—was she about to grab Rose?

  “You okay?” Shawn asked. He was still at the door, she could tell.

  Carefully, she opened her eyes. “No.”

  Rose put her hand on her head. She was hot and dizzy. The room began to churn and circulate, and she fell to the ground like a puppet released from its strings. Shawn rushed to her side, helped her up, and sat her on the bed.

  Rose said, “Was that her?”

  “Rosie, whatever it was, it was evil. It sounded like her, sure, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. There are things in this world we don’t know about. It could’ve—”

  “I don’t know what to believe!”

  He sat down next to her and put his arm around her to comfort her. She smiled at the gesture. It did make her feel better. She kissed his cheek; he just sat there.

  “I finally believe you,” he said, “and I don’t think I could ever deny it.”

  “I want to leave.”

  “What?”

  “Leave, Shawn. I want to leave Carpenter.”

  He sighed. “So do I.”

  “Where do we go?”

  “I don’t know. Raven Hill—”

  “Is terrible,” Rose said. “Gem City or Radley. Those places are nice.”

  “And you want me to go with you?”

  “Yes. You’re the only person who can understand me and I want you to go with me.” She stared at the ceiling, then continued, “I’m sorry, Val, I know I owe you, I need to keep your life going, but I can’t live like this.”

  The light came back. It was powerfully bright and Shawn took his arm from around Rose and put his hands over his eyes.

  “Why, hello Shawn!” it said. “Come, don’t you have questions? Don’t you want answers?”

  “To what?” Shawn asked.

  “Aren’t ya wondering why she didn’t give a shit?” the light asked. “Come, put your eyes to the light. Come see. There are lots of mysteries around Carpenter, and I’ve got the answers to ‘em all.”

  “What is this?”

  Rose, clenching her fists, said, “This is what I told you about! I want it to go away!”

  A million little fingers poked through the light and tapped gently against the floor, making a peaceful noise. “I don’t gotta drag you kids, do I?”

  “What happens if we look?” Shawn leaned forward.

  “Don’t!” Rose said. “I looked last time and all it did was scare me.”

  “Just a funny little prank for a funny little girl,” the light said. “Can’t anyone around here take a little joke? Lighten up.”

  “If you’ve got so many answers down there, tell us one,” Shawn said. “Make us believe you.”

  “Suuure, fella,” it said. “I bet you’d like to know who your real father is, Shawn. Did you know Mommy is a little whore? You want me to solve the mystery of whose cock she’s sucking tonight? Or the—”

  Shawn spat at it.

  “Oh wow, fella,” it said, “don’t be mad at the truth. I bet you’re angry at Valerie still, right? Isn’t that what you were thinking about when you heard that precious voice of hers? That anger you held towards her. You told her all the right things, you did all the nice things, and she still looked past ya, huh? Doesn’t that still make you angry? Didn’t her voice make it worse?”

  “It’s not true, Rose—”

  “Ah, Rose, you’re so pretty when you sleep,” it said. “For such a little brat, you sure do love to feel sorry for yourself. Crying every night that ‘it should’ve been me!’”

  The light extended over the million little fingers that had crawled out from it and hid them. The light was only inches from Shawn. Incredible. Incredible but also terrifying.

  Shawn leaned again.

  “No!” Rose shouted, but it was too late. Shawn put his face into the light.

  Shawn saw it.

  Death by fire. That’s how it all started. Carpenter was damned from the start. But it didn’t start there. It started in a burning field in Europe long ago. Witches were hunted—most of the victims, however, did not practice witchcraft.

  A little boy was plagued with disturbing seizures and screams. His parents went crazy at his bedside; the same fate came for them. Whispers spread of black magic curses. That’s when the women were gathered up by the hundreds.

  It was July and it was a scorcher, but on this day—the day of the trials—it seemed the whole planet was under the chill of a thick mist that spread out as far as the eye could see. A trench was dug. The women would soon be buried and their names would be forgotten.

  In the middle of the trench were twenty large spikes with logs at the bases. The women were lined up by twos, and all their families watched as the men impaled them on spikes. Angry screams and desperate pleas flooded through the air and meandered to the heavens, but there was no savior that would hear them or deliver them.

  And as the women all bled out, the flames were lit and the putrid smoke lifted and choked them. Even the children couldn’t look away from the tortured women. Beautiful embers drifted and twirled past melting skin. After five minutes, their insides leaked past the slits in the burned skin. Most of them—the lucky ones—were unconscious at that point from carbon dioxide that replaced their oxygen.

  But one was truly a witch.

  The witch looked at the man in front of her—the ringleader, the one who set them ablaze—and she cursed him with a whisper. From that moment on, his life was damned.

  It started with his family; he had four boys, and the youngest died first when he slipped down the stairs and cracked his neck. The second youngest hung himself. The second oldest was eaten by worms and beetles. The oldest went insane and charged at his father with a knife before slicing his own throat. The man’s wife couldn’t bear it, and she hung herself, too.

  The man was cast out of his town. He traveled to America and founded Carpenter.

  Shawn saw it all when he put his head into the light. Rose pulled him away.

  “I need to see more!” Shawn said.

  But then the light vanished.

  The room was normal. For now.

  “What did you see?” Rose asked.

  He told her all about Carpenter’s history that he saw. Then he told her that there was so much more, that the city had so many more things to reveal, but when she pulled him out of the light, that was it. He wouldn’t be shown any more.

  Rain began to streak the windows, then a groan came from the ceiling. Shawn and Rose hesitated, then looked up together, as droplets of blood dripped down on them. He took her hand and they sprinted out of the room, then out of the house and into the rain.

  “I know what to do,” Shawn said, holding her close in the rain.

  “What?”

  “We burn it down.”

  She thought about it all night. After Shawn left, she went back into the house, very on edge, and dried off with towels from the bathroom. Then she went to the living room, put on cartoons—a silly thing that made her
feel safe—and waited until the Harts came back.

  But the thought never left her mind.

  We burn it down.

  Rose sat up in Valerie’s bed, drinking water. The lights were on—she was not turning them off tonight. She was much too frightened. And with a yawn, she thought: What if I burn it down and burn Val down with it? What if she’s really alive? What if she’s back? I can’t lie to myself forever, I’ve heard her voice again. How can I hear a dead girl’s voice?

  She set the bottle down, then pulled the covers over her shoulders and slipped the pillow over her head. There was no way sleep was coming to her.

  Where will we go? How will we live? Will… will I ever see Mom, Dad, and Orion again?

  Sleep did come eventually for her, even if it wasn’t until 4:00 AM.

  A few blocks away, Shawn was thinking similar thoughts: I knew I never should’ve talked to her at the library, what was I thinking? This is all so bad. This can’t end well. And Val’s room—I feel so sick. I think it’s doing something to me. I don’t… I don’t feel so good.

  The most vicious of the murders was the first one in Raven Hill. It would be big news everywhere by the time Rose and Shawn were each out of bed. This one came with a warning—written in big letters from the victim’s blood—

  THERE WILL BE MORE

  The victim was another lady. She was twenty-five, with gorgeous black hair and green eyes. Her name was Marina, and not only was she killed the barbaric way that Valerie and Shelly and the other girls were killed, but her stomach was torn open, and from the spilled-out guts, the message was written.

  Rose pulled Shawn aside in the hallway at Carpenter High. The bell was about to ring, and they’d both be late, but it didn’t matter—they planned to run away soon. They were both headed out of Carpenter very soon. There’d be no more of the fake city. There’d be no more weirdness, fright, or pain. They’d have each other and they’d be somewhere normal. No looking back.

  “The person who killed the—the person who killed Val and Shelly is getting farther away,” Rose said. “Each murder is farther. Now they’re in Raven Hill.”

  “I know,” Shawn said.

  The bell rang.

  “I want revenge,” Rose said, “I want to kill him.”

  “Kill? What? Rose, kill the killer?” Shawn squinted. “This isn’t Hack/Slash.”

  “Hack what?”

  “Val told me about a book called…” he trailed off. “Never mind. What happened to the burning—to burning the cursed room?”

  “I still want to burn the cursed room,” she said, “but I want to get rid of this psycho.”

  “How do you plan to find him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then why should we do that? Why go after him?” Shawn said. “What happened to leaving together for a normal life?”

  “I still want to. I still want to do that.”

  Shawn said, “I knew I was in too deep. No good can come of this. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  Rose said, “But…” but didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s the room talking,” he said. “Is the room doing this to you? The light? Is that what makes you want to do this? You can’t be serious.”

  “I can’t tell at this point, Shawn. There’s something telling me that it’ll lead me to her.”

  “You want me to lead you to her?” Shawn asked, then pointed straight ahead. “The graveyard is a few miles that way!”

  Rose wept and looked away. “It’s not the room talking, it’s me, but you won’t listen to me!”

  “It’s your fucking guilt,” he said. ”You don’t have to keep feeling this way. It’s okay, don’t you understand? Everything is just fine. We have each other and that’s all we need.”

  “Is it?” Rose asked. “Is it?”

  “Yes.” he hugged her.

  “I like you, I really do,” Rose said. “But believe me, okay? I know that’s hard for you. I need to see this person dead.”

  “And I don’t?”

  “Doesn’t seem like it.” Rose sighed.

  “Well, I do.”

  “Then come with me, Shawn.” She turned back to look at him.

  “If it’s what you want, then I will.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the lips before going to class.

  He snuck over the gasoline after school. They’d planned it out perfectly: they’d leave tonight in his dad’s car. They’d only have the clothes on their backs, and a little bit of cash in their wallets. Not much in cash, but enough to last them for a couple days. Who knew what they’d do when the money ran out? Neither cared. If worst came to worst, they’d come crawling right back to Carpenter. But Carpenter was not a normal city, and soon after they left, it would forget them. It was not normal. God wanted to hide it away from the world.

  Rose smiled as she opened the door. She was less nervous. It wasn’t her life she was throwing away. She was not ruining anything in the name of Rose Hawthorn: the dead girl. This was all in Valerie Hart’s name. She had the note written out, too. The note she’d leave in the mailbox on the front lawn.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  I’m running away. Let me be. I’m tired of this fucking place. I’m sorry about the fire.

  -Valerie.

  Rose knew it was shitty—beyond shitty. But hadn’t she deserved something good by now? She’d be happy leaving. And, the way she saw it, she’d be doing Mr. and Mrs. Hart a favor. The room was haunted as hell, and it would catch up with them eventually if she didn’t burn it. Who knew what else was lurking there in the house.

  She thought about Ed Holland—the man in the walls. If he really was there, he’d be gone now. And for the first time in days, she remembered Valerie’s diary. After she and Shawn were in the bedroom, she found it and clutched it tight.

  “All I have left of her, do you mind if I take it?”

  “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

  Rose kissed him.

  “I still want to do this,” he said. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” It was a scared and hesitant yes, but it was a yes.

  As Shawn put his hand on the cap of the gas can, ready to open it and spill the gasoline across the room, a bottle of perfume crashed loudly to the floor.

  He looked at it, then back to Rose, and her eyes held his. She stared, her heart thumping in her chest.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  But it wouldn’t be. The dresser abruptly shook, and the bag of Sweettarts clattered off. Her laptop smashed onto the floor and bits of plastic scattered around the carpet. Rose shouted for him to hurry up, that it was finally time to burn it.

  He untwisted the cap, then—

  Then they both froze. They heard the front door. The Harts were back early. Rose was done screaming, but the terror was not over. The closet door had come to life. Maddening eyes looked at them through wooden slits. The closet doors slowly opened and a disturbing creaking noise came with it. Then the carpet began to slither. The hellish grey fibers straightened out and dragged across the room nearer to the open doors—the mouth of a monster. Rose’s mind filled with apprehension.

  The little things—the candy, the plastic from the laptop—all went into the void of the closet first. The monster knew their plans. It wouldn’t let them destroy the room.

  “Help me!” a voice that sounded like Valerie said. “Rose! Shawn! They’ve got me in the closet! Help me!”

  The carpet fibers clung to their clothes and pulled them down like chains and Rose and Shawn could not break free. There was no getting up. They reached for each other, but their hands could not touch—the inches between them seemed like the length of an ocean.

  Footsteps thumped in the hallway.

  “Valerie?” Mr. Hart said.

  The carpet stopped moving, then went back in place. Everything that was sucked into the closet was gone—Rose couldn’t see it and figured she never would. Those horrible eyes vanished.

  Rose and Shawn stood up quickly
and hugged each other. Then they both jumped at the knock on the open door. Mr. Hart stepped in.

  After the Harts left the room and she was left alone with Shawn, she hid the gasoline in the dresser drawers. It was the only part of the room that didn’t scare her. The walls creeped her out, the bed terrified her, and the closet—oh God, she couldn’t fathom what would’ve happened if it dragged them inside.

  Then she left with Shawn and went back to his house. They walked. It was cold out, but they declined a ride from Mrs. Hart. Rose couldn’t stand another minute in that house or with Val’s parents, and she was angry that the plan wasn’t in action yet.

  “Why did it stop?” Rose asked.

  “Huh? Oh, the carpet,” Shawn said. “I was thinking about that, too. I got this sense that the house wanted to protect them. Like it had a bond to them. It would do anything except hurt its masters.”

  Rose stopped walking. “Was it her? Is that why I kept hearing her voice? Is she possessing—”

  “Whoa, I didn’t say I had all the answers,” he said. “But look, if I were a betting man, I’d say no. It didn’t feel like Valerie. And she wouldn’t do that to us. It felt just like the light from under your—from under her bed.”

  “Why would it protect them?” she asked, now walking again.

  Shawn shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s their house, maybe that’s just it. They own it. And the room knows you’re not her.”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”

  “I do have a question for you, Rosie.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you really think there’s a man in those walls, watching her?”

  “Shawn, I don’t know if he was in the walls, but I will tell you now that something is watching me and was watching her.”

  “Someone’s watching you too?”

  “I… just for a moment as I walked up to school the other day I saw a man in the shadows, and then he disappeared. But he was looking right at me. I felt him, and I think he was watching her, too. Like he knows something.”