Was there a little girl?
She gets to the door and steps out onto the front porch. They live alone, secluded, miles away from anyone. Alas, the only thing she sees is the full moon and it’s glow shining off the bare trees and frosty grass.
There’s no one.
No signs of life. Human nor animal. Perhaps a part of her wanted there to be something. Anything. She’s been longing all day for some kind of hope. The dream was no hope. Offering her a last chance to see the little girl that haunts her every waking and, now, sleeping moments.
She turns around defeated, her nerves settling back down, when she sees footprints. Small, muddy human footprints that lead towards the hallway. Child-like. Her eyes open wide. Someone is in the house.
The prints lead past the kitchen, down the hall, toward her and Rodney’s bedroom.
Nell looks down to see mud on her own feet. She’s walked right through it as soon as she emerged from her room and never even noticed. She calls out weakly, “…Rodney… Rodney…” but there’s no way he can hear her. It’s nothing but a whisper. She can barely hear herself. Even to get him, she’s gonna have to follow the prints. Though, she needs to. Rodney could get hurt and that thought upsets her. Even if she’s scared, Rodney is all she has left.
She walks along the clodded dirt, fear drips from every pore in her skin as she looks down the hallway. But the prints don’t go to their bedroom, instead, they go inside an adjacent room. In an instant, Nell goes from worried, to curious. An awesome calmness persuades her that maybe everything is okay. Even on the chance that someone else is in the house… it’s still okay. Almost as if they belong here, although there should be nothing in that room except for memories.
Nell reaches for the dusty door knob and twists. The dander explodes like firecrackers and the creaks echo as the door opens. It’s amazing how much dirt can cover something in only two weeks.
Nell finds herself standing, staring inside the dark room from the doorway. She takes a breath before flipping the light switch. Ready for someone to come running out from the dark and bombard her as soon as the bulb turns bright.
Even with the room lit, everything she has seen in movies and heard from stories or the news, she knows better than to just rush in somewhere after it’s been proven she’s not alone.
But, again, this feels different.
It’s not just another room. It’s a bedroom. More clearly, a little girl’s bedroom. White walls where giant, silk red curtains hang as the wind rushes in from the hallway. They sway to and fro, almost hypnotizing Nell. Her eyes swell up with tears, as she looks over the pictures hung on the wall of her and Rodney and for the little person who occupied this room, that is no longer there.
She wipes the salty-water from her eyes long enough to see the footprints leading to the red-painted closet door. Nell’s favorite color. The color of passion and love. Nothing represented her love for her family more than the color red.
She moves closer.
She hears whimpering; soft and guttural. Nell’s hands shake as she reaches for the door knob and slowly opens it. The stench of sickness seeps out, slamming into her nose like a knockout punch. She coughs in disgust. Under the clothes hanging in the closet she sees two small feet, one dressed in a white Ballet Flat and the other bare and dirty, cuddled up next to one another; shivering cold.
A million and one things are coursing through Nell’s mind… but they have all vanished with the sight of little feet. Child’s feet.
“Hello?” Nell asks, but only hears more whimpering.
Nell moves the clothes on the rack to the side and sees a little blonde-haired girl, her skin as pale as the dead. Her puffy, white and pink Popover dress covered in muck. The shock of this bizarre discovery is enough to send Nell backwards in mental rejection, physically tripping over her own self, and falling to the ground.
It’s the little girl from her dream.
Nell’s excited heart thumps louder and louder. For a moment she can’t even breathe. “…Amberly… Amberly?” Nell cries.
It is Amberly Gray.
Nell and Rodney’s 10-year-old daughter. Their hope. Their joy. The reason they wanted to start fresh. The reason they moved to Olave. The best thing they’ve ever done with their lives had been Amberly.
This should be a joyous occasion and the only reason Nell is in complete discord, is because there’s no way Amberly should be in her closet behind the red door.
In her home.
Alive.
Amberly Gray was murdered two weeks ago.
IV
Morning.
9:00AM.
Rodney pours himself a glass of orange juice in the kitchen. His face stoic. Completely void of all emotion. His mind, vague, but if there is one thing he can feel, it has to be mysticism. He still thinks he’s asleep. How can his dead daughter… not be dead? To say he is skeptical of how Amberly is sitting in the living room right now, watching cartoons with Nell, would be a gross understatement.
They buried her in her pretty white dress with a stuffed animal she won at a carnival three years back. How Amberly loved that stuffed animal. It was an elephant with zebra stripes. Not overly imaginative, but just enough visceral confusion to play with your eyes. It was a mind-boggle, but compared of a resurrected child, it’s nothing.
How is she not dead? Rodney wonders if Amberly is immortal. She has come back from beyond the grave, so why wouldn’t she be immortal? Cursed to look young for all time. It could be worse, but given the circumstances of Amberly’s death, Rodney hates to think “how?”
For now, he appears to be happy. At least at first glance. Rodney is practical and a realist. When it comes to life, everyone has just one go-around. They never “come back.” It just doesn’t happen in real life. As shocked as he was, and truthfully, still is, Amberly should still be buried six-feet under.
How is she back?
He ponders as he swigs his O.J. and peeks his head in towards the living area to see Amberly, freshly bathed, sitting next to Nell watching television; cuddling. Her skin still pale and flaked. A good warm bath is not going to fix this.
Nell, of course, is ecstatic. Her prayers have been answered. Her little girl is back. She doesn’t care how or why Amberly is, just that she is. None of this sits right in Rodney’s soul. Nor should it. It isn’t natural.
He walks into the living room and smiles at Nell who is holding Amberly close enough to suffocate her. Well, once upon a time at least. There isn’t a single person who wouldn’t want a deceased loved one to return, especially a child who died of unnatural causes, and Amberly’s was most unnatural.
That was actually Rodney’s biggest fear when he first heard that he was going to have a child-let alone a small baby girl-was how to protect her. Never to admit it, in case he jinxed himself. Growing up it’s always been easier for him to not give a shit about himself. “Fuck me… no one cares about me.”
That’s what Rodney always thought. To some extent, so did Nell. When they were young they flipped Death the bird and didn’t worry about the consequences. Their lives sucked enough as it were, what else could go wrong? They were young and brave, which really means they were stupid. The world would never know or care if Nell or Rodney lived or died. In some sort of bitter revolt against life, they welcomed death.
Then they had Amberly and it all changed rather quickly. To go from “see if I care,” to, “damn it, I care too much.” All Rodney and Nell hoped was anything foolish they did in their early lives didn’t come back and bite them in the ass. Or worse, Amberly. In retrospect, it sort of did. Amberly lost her life and Nell’s world ended. She would never admit it, because she loves Rodney too deeply, but whenever she sees him, she saw Amberly. She would see their dead daughter, and in a way, she would blame Rodney.
She resented him. He should’ve been there to get her from school, but he wasn’t. For whatever reasons or excuses, in the end, he never showed up. The only one to show was the Devil who walked Amberly home
.
For that, Nell blamed him. Anyone would and a lot of people have. Yet, if she ever told him this, it would kill him. After all, Amberly is here now. She’s back and Nell will do whatever it takes to keep her here.
“You want something to eat, baby-girl?” Rodney asks Amberly. Not knowing what else to say. Her blank face shows no signs of her even paying attention. To him, Nell, or the television.
Everything seems to be background noise while she stays in deep thought. “You… want some pizza? I can order-out.” No he can’t, it’s too early. He has no idea what he’s saying. Talk talk talk; keep your mind busy, Rodney. Still, Amberly says nothing.
“She’s not hungry, Rodney,” Nell says. “She’s just a tired little girl who needs some rest. Isn’t that right, baby?” Nell hugs Amberly, kissing her deathly-frozen forehead; frighteningly delusional.
“Well, if you two get hungry, you know who to call. I’ll see you in a bit,” Rodney states as he grabs the car keys and heads to the door.
“Where are you going?” Nell asks, a bit disappointed.
“Work.”
“Seriously? Amberly… Amberly, is… here. You can’t take the day off?”
Rodney looks nervous. Not only is Nell staring at him, but so is Amberly. For the first time, paying her father mind. Her pupils freakishly getting lighter in color; a shade of grey. Her eyebrows arched. It’s not a look that he expected. Never a look that she ever gave to him before. Not of love or admiration.
This… is more of a look a hungry dog gives at a raw bloody piece of rib eye. Or, at least to Rodney that is how it feels. Maybe his guilt playing games with his already tottering psyche.
“I’m only going in for half a shift. Four hours and I’m home,” he mutters back to Nell, becoming increasingly nervous at the look Amberly is still giving.
“I’m sure Mack will let you stay home to mourn your daughter for Christ’s sake,” snaps Nell.
“Well, as you can see, Nell… Amberly is right there. Hard to mourn her when she’s alive.”
“Whatever,” Nell snuggles with Amberly. “More time with mommy then.” Nell embraces her daughter as Rodney leaves the house.
What the hell is Nell thinking?
They should have called someone. Amberly’s doctor… or the police… or George Romero. Anyone who would know better than to let a walking corpse in their home and act as if nothing changed in the first place. For a grieving mother, it’s been Heaven. Her stress and sorrows washed away. For Rodney and his fears, they’ve only just begun.
Rodney works as a massage therapist at Elemental Remedial Massage Therapy. A small business owned by his friend and boss, Mack Conte. Rodney’s only friend really.
An ironic career choice for Rodney, considering this is a man who has been through a lot, and in the end has managed to find a profession where it entails him to calm others. To take their worries away. Coincidentally medicinal in some perspective. He compares his world and problems to his clients. No matter how bad you have it, someone else always has it worse.
If you ask him, he’ll tell you that he loves it. Being able to wash away the stress and give customers thirty minutes, or an hour, to escape from the tug and pull of the bustling world that eats everyone alive and spits them out.
Today is much needed, considering Amberly has crawled from her grave to the living room couch.
He opens the front door and walks in. At the receptionist desk is Mack and Phebe. Mack is a tall, muscular man. Cocky and loud. Phebe, who takes the calls and makes the appointments, is short, petite, but with a rather large bust for a woman of her size. Her slight hunch is proof to that.
“Rod, bud! What are ya doin` here?” Mack asks.
“Just… want to be out of the house.”
“You need to be home with your wife, man.”
Rodney sarcastically smirks. “Uh, I don’t think so. I think she’ll be fine, all by her lonesome.”
“If you’re sure. I gave you the day off.”
“It’s okay, Mack. I’m good. I have Mrs. Trinh coming in for a session. I can’t keep rescheduling with her. She’s a great client, I’d hate to lose her,” Rodney rubs his temples.
“I understand. Keep your mind busy… but you need to relax, Rod, clients can tell when you’re tense,” Mack points out.
Mack might not be the best boss, but he is a caring friend. Most time shortsighted by the bigger things in life, his heart always seems to be in the right place. Poor guy has no idea what to say to Rodney. Sure, Mack has lost relatives, and most recently his dog was run over by a semi, but he doesn’t have kids. He doesn’t know of the joy and nervousness of bringing someone into this fucked up world, let alone the misery of escorting one out.
“I know. I know,” is all Rodney can say before heading into the back to get ready for his shift. Right now, he doesn’t need positivity, just alone time.
Rodney sets up his massage bed with red blankets to match the two-toned walls of red and cream. Built in to the wall is a five-foot tall water fountain. The H20 gently trickles down, forming a puddle in the base before it is recycled. It is most definitely serene and peaceful. Exactly what he needs right now.
He looks through his inventory for a bottle of lavender-scented oil. It’s Mrs. Trinh’s favorite. Has been for the last two years since she first became his client.
His best client.
There’s a knock on the door. In walks Mrs. Dannalee Trinh. 5’5” of Vietnamese-American sensuality. Profound pink highlights intertwined with her natural jet-black hair. She’s younger than Rodney by a couple years, but has enough world experience to know that he wants her.
“Rodney,” she says innocently enough. Though her eyes are telling a different story. A story of lust. A tale of taboo.
“Hello, Dannalee. How are you today?” he asks.
“Stressed,” she replies, chuckling. If she only knew the night he had. “I’m glad that you were finally available to see me.”
“I’m just glad you haven’t gone anywhere else.”
Dannalee smiles, shuts the door and lets her robe fall, standing there nude in the open. Her body that of a supermodel. Instant kryptonite to any man. Neither of them are shy. Dannalee makes no attempt to cover up, and Rodney makes no attempt to look away. This is hardly the first time he’s seen her naked. At least, that’s the most logical reasoning. Hardly professional, but they don’t care.
Dannalee slowly, and purposely advertises her nakedness and thick hips as she walks to the table and bends over. Ready for more than just a massage. “I’m waiting, Rodney…”
Rodney turns his head. “I can’t. Not today,” he painfully says, obviously with more on his mind.
It’s not hard to see why he wouldn’t be tempted: Dannalee is an exotic beauty. Lips skilled enough to suck his teeth through his ass. Most men wouldn’t be able to pass it up. Then again, most men aren’t married to a woman like Nell, either. Rodney is a man who grew up with pretty much nil, and over the years has gotten greedy and spoiled.
Dannalee walks up to Rodney and presses her naked body against him. “What’s wrong, Rodney?” she asks, knowing he’s perplexed, but she thinks it’s cute.
He’d love to tell her. Well, not her specifically, but anyone. He feels like he’s going mad. To get it off his chest would be a reprieve. “How the fuck is my dead daughter… sitting on my couch at home?!” he wants to ask. But instead he answers, “Nothing.”
She grabs his hand and places it on her right breast. “Then what are we waiting for?” She leans in and kisses him and he quickly reciprocates the feeling as he kisses back. Their tongues explore each others mouth. His frustrations soon turn into moans, as she reaches her hand down his pants, and just like that, Nell and their marriage are forgotten memories.
Until he is finished.
The front door to the Gray House opens as Nell walks in carrying grocery bags. Amberly sits on the couch, presumably never moving since whenever Nell left to begin with. “Hi, baby. Momma got some f
ood! Come pick something out.” Nell carries the groceries to the kitchen.
Amberly slowly turns her head and stares at Nell as she walks away. Her nose has caught a scent of something in the bags. Something… delicious.
Nell plops the bags on the island counter. She reaches in and grabs out various fruits: apples, oranges, and grapes to name a few, before placing them in the fridge.
“Got some of your favorites, Amberly. I know how much you love your fruits and veggies,” Nell remarks.
Amberly never much cared for meat. Ever since she saw a documentary when she was eight on the slaughtering of animals, it turned her off of greasy hamburgers and fatty steaks.
Nell reaches back up to the counter to grab the other groceries, but feels nothing. She stands straight up and sees the the bags are knocked over. She doesn’t know what to think until she hears chewing. She leans over the island to see Amberly hunched over on the floor eating raw hamburger.
Her teeth perfectly grinding the slivers of meat at a supernatural pace; the still-fresh blood from the beef drips down her chin. Nell is disgusted.
“Amberly, what are you—” Nell asks before Amberly lunges at her, slashing.
Missing.
A warning.
Nell screams and falls back against the refrigerator. Amberly shrieks before grasping the raw hamburger and running down the hall, into her room.
Nell doesn’t know what just happened. She just stays planted to the floor, breathing deeply from fear.
V
November 10th.
Noon.
“Touchdown! I can-NOT believe this score, Brett! Giverdon State was the clear favorite to win this game. Nationally ranked at #4… but, Olave University is pulling the upset. They’re not even ranked!” The sports announcer from the television screams.
A Melancholic Black Series (Book 1): The Red Door Page 2