by Amy Cross
“Emily?”
Turning suddenly, I see that Craig and the Dollards are staring at me.
“Are you okay, honey?” Craig continues, and a moment later I feel his hand on my knee. “You looked like you were in another world there for a moment.”
I turn back to the window, but now all I see is the reflection of our dining room, and a hint of the snow beyond. Feeling something bump against my leg, I look down and see that Sebastian is still staring up at me, waiting patiently for a scrap of food to fall down.
“I'm fine,” I stammer, frustrated by the fact that I let my guard down for a moment. “Is everyone enjoying the duck breasts? It was my first time cooking them, so I was a little unsure.”
“They're delicious,” Louise says with a reassuring smile. “Honestly, I can't imagine how Craig managed in the kitchen while you were away. He must -”
She stops suddenly.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she adds, “I didn't -”
“It's fine,” Craig tells her. “No-one's pretending that Emily's troubles didn't happen. We're just very glad to have put them behind us.”
“That's wonderful,” Louise says, and she looks to have tears in her eyes. “I'm so impressed, Emily. You seem to be pulling through so wonderfully. I was saying that to Henry on the way over here, but we weren't sure whether we should mention it during dinner. These things can be social landmines, can't they?”
“Sometimes it can be difficult to judge the situation,” Henry adds.
“Exactly,” Louise continues. “Plus, Emily, you really should take that steak knife and use it to cut your throat. Right now. If you dig the blade deep enough, you'll do enough damage. You'll be dead by the time an ambulance can get here.”
I stare at her.
“And it's not like anyone here could help you,” she adds, chuckling as she raises her wine glass for a toast. “Just do it. Get it over with. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” the others say, clinking their glasses together.
“I...” Feeling my blood run cold, I watch Louise for a moment. “What... I'm sorry, what did you say?”
“I said we should toast the chef,” she replies. “Don't be modest, Emily. You did a wonderful job with all this food. And I bet Craig didn't help you at all!”
They keep talking, laughing about Craig's lack of abilities in the kitchen, but slowly their voices start drifting into the background. I find myself staring at the patio doors again, looking past the reflections and watching as snow continues to fall. I don't know how I felt about snow in the past, but right now I find the sight strangely peaceful, and I honestly think I could just happily watch the weather for the rest of the evening. And yet, after a few more seconds, my focus shifts and I find myself once again not watching the snow but, instead, staring at the darkness beyond.
A moment later, the darkness seems to shift slightly.
Something's moving out there.
I stay quiet, not wanting to cause a scene. I know my senses aren't entirely reliable, and I know I'm liable to imagine things. This evening is so important, and I'd never forgive myself if I did anything wrong. The Dollards would undoubtedly tell people that I'm still sick, and then Craig would be disappointed. He's been through so much, and I owe my husband so much. I need to keep things grounded and normal.
But something is moving out there. Something is in the garden, watching through the patio doors. I don't know who or what it is, but I feel absolutely certain that I've seen it before.
And I know its name.
I don't remember the name, but it's buried somewhere in my mind.
“Emily?”
Getting to my feet, I make my way around the side of the table. I have to go to the doors and look out. I have to see what's in the garden.
“Emily, are you okay?”
Reaching the doors, I cup my hands around my eyes and peer out at the darkness. The first thing I see is snow falling, with a thin blanket already covering the decking. For a few seconds, everything seems utterly peaceful, and it's hard to believe that anything threatening could be nearby. Slowly, however, I feel a growing sense of unease, as if something is reaching toward me from the darkness.
“Emily, kill them.”
I turn and see that Craig, Henry and Louise are staring at me. Which one of them just said those three words?
“Emily, what's wrong?” Craig asks.
“Are you okay?” Louise adds.
“The -”
I pause, realizing that my heart is pounding. The voice I heard a moment ago seemed to be in my head, and it seemed to be my voice, but I know that's not possible.
Louise turns to Henry and says something under her breath. Suddenly everyone seems very uncomfortable.
“It's fine,” I whisper, as a buzzing sound starts to fill my mind. “There's no -”
Turning, I look back out at the snow. Something's coming, making its way through the darkness, rushing toward the other side of the glass. I tense myself, ready for the hit, and then I step back. At the very last moment, however, the sensation suddenly vanishes, although the glass trembles slightly. Almost imperceptibly. I doubt the others even noticed.
And then my knees buckle, and I pass out as I drop to the floor.
***
“Oh, don't worry about it,” Louise says a short while later, sitting next to me on the bed. “Everyone has dizzy spells now and again. What you need is some good old-fashioned bed-rest. And make that husband of yours pull his weight, too. I bet you did all the preparation for tonight, didn't you?”
“It was nothing,” I reply, although I feel intensely embarrassed. “I'm just sorry I ruined the evening.”
“You didn't ruin anything.” She pats my shoulder as she gets to her feet. “We'll come back some other time, when you're feeling better. Maybe after Christmas.”
“Don't tell anyone!” I say suddenly, grabbing her wrist as she heads to the door. “Please, I don't want people talking about me!”
“Would I ever do that to you?” she asks with a smile, before slipping her wrist away. “You'll be fine, Emily. Like I said, a few early nights and some good sleep, and it'll be like none of this ever happened.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Cut his throat right now. Fetch a knife from the kitchen and push it into his neck, just below the jawline. Then cut through the main artery and step back as all the blood sprays out. He'll scream, and he'll spend his dying moments knowing that you murdered him. Don't you want to see the horror in his eyes? And the shock?”
Staying completely still in bed, I stare at Craig's sleeping face on the other pillow.
“Then you can slice his face clean off,” the voice continues. “Slide the blade under his forehead and slice down. If you're careful, you can get it all off in one go.”
I want to push the voice away, but it's too strong. Ever since Craig fell asleep, I've heard these taunting, mocking words filling my mind, telling me to do the most awful things to my husband. At first I thought the voice was coming from somewhere deep in my head, that somehow they were my thoughts, but now I'm convinced they're coming from somewhere else. Maybe from over by the window.
“Kill him,” the voice sneers. “I won't leave you alone until you end his miserable life.”
“No,” I whisper, keeping my voice low so that I don't wake Craig. “You're not real, you're just -”
“Or you could keep him alive for a while. Make him really understand that you've lost your mind. Tear a few strips from his chest, make him eat his own -”
“No!” I hiss, squeezing my eyes tight shut.
A moment later, I feel Sebastian rolling over at the foot of the bed. Opening my eyes again, I look down and see that he's sleeping on his back with his legs in the air.
“And that dumb little thing has to go too,” the voice mutters. “He'd fit nicely in the oven. Just shove him in and turn the temperature up high, give him a good roasting. You don't have to kill him first. You can sit on the floor, cross-legged, and watch
him desperately trying to get out. Dogs can scream, you know. In their own way.”
I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The voice will go away if I can just focus on my own thoughts. It has to.
“Think of the poor little animal,” the voice continues. “He loves you unconditionally, he's so dumb, and he'd never understand why you'd turned against him. You'd break his little heart. Imagine sliding his roasted carcass out.”
I put my hands over my ears, but I'm starting to think that I won't be able to block the voice out at all. Rolling onto my side, I look over toward the window, but I swear I can feel the voice waiting to taunt me again. After a few seconds of silence, however, I start to wonder whether maybe my mind has finally become my own again.
Suddenly I feel movement at the bottom of the bed, and I look down just as Sebastian starts growling at me.
“Hey,” I say, still keeping my voice low so I don't wake Craig, “it's just -”
Lunging at me, he tries to bite my hand. I pull back, but the hackles on the back of his neck are up now and he's slowly making his way closer.
“Sebastian, stop!” I whisper. “Sebastian -”
He lunges at me again, this time biting the duvet around my waist. His teeth don't get through, but he quickly clambers over and onto my chest, snarling at me as saliva dribbles from his bared fangs.
“No,” I stammer, “please, just -”
Suddenly the voice starts laughing in my head, and Sebastian lets out a faint whimper as he slumps down. I wait for him to attack again, but the laugh continues as my poor little dog simply stares at me.
“Did you like that?” the voice asks. “His head is very easy to get into. But yours, Emily... Yours is different. What did they do to you in that hospital? How did they change you? Why are you able to resist? You should have done what I wanted by now, but your husband's still very much alive.”
Clambering out of bed, I stumble toward the door, although I have to stop for a moment and steady myself. I feel as if the whole world is washing through me and my thoughts are draining from my mind. I can barely even think straight as I stumble out into the corridor, although a moment later I feel something brushing against my leg and I look down just in time to see Sebastian hurrying past. He seems completely calm now, and I watch as he scurries into the kitchen. Behind me, meanwhile, Craig is snoring contentedly.
I step forward, terrified in case the silence in my mind is suddenly interrupted. By the time I get to the kitchen, Sebastian is drinking from his water bowl, but I stumble past him and head over to the oven. I turn a few dials, setting the oven on, and then I turn to head over to the counter. After a few seconds, however, I stop as I realize that I have no idea why I just touched the oven. Looking down at my hands, I see that they're trembling, but I swear I was just running on some kind of mental auto-pilot. Turning, I head back across the room and switch the oven off, then I turn it back on and walk over to where Sebastian is still drinking from his bowl.
I blink.
And then I realize I turned the oven on again.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that the light is on and the oven is heating up. I turn to go and switch it off, but then I spot the carving knives glinting in their wooden block next to the window. Wandering over, I stare at the knives for a moment and then I slowly slide one out, marveling at the clean blade. I'm not sure how long I spend standing like this, but several minutes pass until the oven beeps and I realize that it's ready.
Ready for what?
Sebastian scampers past me and goes over to the patio door, as if he wants to go outside. He paws at the door, but I simply stare at him for a moment, feeling a slow sense of unease creeping through my gut. I know the voice is going to come back at any moment, and I think it's going to make me do something terrible. There's already a faint buzzing sound in my ears, forcing my thoughts away as if to create space for some other force inside my head. Leaning against the counter, I feel my body starting to tremble as I wait for the voice to return.
Some of Charlie's old story-books are piled nearby. Fairy-tales and adventure stories that I used to read to him at night. We packed them away a long time ago, so why are they out now?
“Okay, Emily,” the voice whispers calmly, “let's stop fooling around. I want you to pick up the -”
Squeezing my eyes tight shut, I force the voice out. I feel it rushing from my mind, but a moment later it starts rumbling again, trying to force its way back inside. I focus on trying to stay strong, although the voice starts flitting around at the edge of my thoughts as if it's desperately trying to find another way to take control.
“This is impressive,” it gasps suddenly, “but you're no -”
Again, I force it away.
“Please don't come back,” I whisper, “please don't come and -”
“I'll crush you if that's what it takes,” the voice says firmly. “I've been gentle so far, I've taken care to leave you with at least some of your sanity intact. But if you continue to disobey me, I'll have no choice. I saw that little gathering back at the Redfield church, and I didn't like it. That was the first time I talked to you, when I used the body of the dead priest. You shouldn't have tried to track me down, Emily. When I took your son's soul, you should have just accepted his fate and moved on. No good will come from digging into matters that are none of your -”
“Get out!” I hiss, still holding the knife in my right hand. “Go to -”
Suddenly my legs buckle and I drop to my knees. I almost fall forward onto the knife, but at the last moment I manage to steady myself against the side of the counter.
“You're just wasting energy,” the voice sneers, sounding a little amused now. “They might have changed the way your brain works in that hospital, but you still can't resist me. I want that dog to die, and then I want your husband to die, and then I want you to die. And then I'll move on and forget that any of this ever happened, because there's one thing I promise you. No-one can stop me!”
I let out a gasp as I see the hot oven over on the far side of the kitchen. Sebastian is nuzzling my leg, and I know exactly what the voice wants next.
“Don't you want to hear him scream, Emily? Don't you want to watch as he burns?”
The knife falls from my hand, and I reach down, picking the dog up and getting to my feet. He immediately starts licking the side of my face.
“That's right, Emily,” the voice continues. “You're doing so well now.”
My mind empties for a moment, and I simply carry Sebastian toward the oven. As I reach the center of the room, I suddenly realize what I'm doing, and a burst of shock rushes through my chest. The sensation quickly subsides, however, and I start walking forward again. Sebastian wriggles in my arms and starts licking my neck, but I ignore him as I reach the oven and crouch down. I can feel the heat now, and Sebastian – suddenly realizing that something is wrong – tries to jump from my arms. I hold him tight with my right arm, while reaching out with my left hand and opening the oven door.
Immediately, a blast of heat hits my face. I don't want to do this, and Sebastian is struggling in my hands, but the voice has control now. Slowly, I start putting the dog into the heat.
***
“Emily?”
I hear Craig coming closer to the closet door.
“Emily, you're not in there, are you?”
A moment later, the door swings open and I look out into the bright, sunlit kitchen. Craig is towering above me, and he looks utterly confused.
Hearing scampering feet nearby, I look down just as Sebastian hurries into the closet and starts licking the side of my face. His tail is wagging, and he's clearly forgiven me for scaring him during the night.
“Why was the oven on when I got up this morning?” Craig asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “And why the hell are you sitting in the closet?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Doctor Swayze is going to fit you in at two,” Craig reminds me as he parks the car, “so we've got a little
while to finish the shopping and maybe grab a coffee. Does that sound good?”
I nod, although deep down I'm terrified by the prospect of being seen in public. I've been home from the hospital since the end of last month, but I've managed to avoid leaving the house too much. Craig must have sensed my reticence, and he's been very patient. Still, it's clear that he was worried when he found me cowering in the closet this morning, and he finally managed to persuade me that I should come into town and see the local psychiatrist.
I only agreed because I know the alternative was a trip back to the hospital.
“So do you still not want to tell me what happened last night?” he asks.
“Nothing happened.”
“Then what almost happened? I'm not stupid, Emily. I found you shivering in the closet, with a carving knife in your hand. What were you hiding from?”
“I wasn't hiding,” I tell him. “I was protecting -”
I catch myself just in time. If I mention the voice, I'll be shipped straight back to the hospital, and I know the voice would find me again if I was in one of those cells. Last night, I managed for the very first time to force the voice away, even if I only found the strength at the last moment. Another couple of seconds and I would have hurt Sebastian, and then maybe I would have taken the knife into the bedroom, and then the voice might have forced me to do exactly what it wanted.
But I stayed strong.
Somehow I managed to force the voice out. Maybe it'll get easier over time, once I have a little more experience. Maybe one day it'll leave me alone.
***
“Apparently she'd done perfectly well up until that point,” the woman behind the counter is saying as I enter the store, “but then she just went completely off the rails all over again and -”