The Girl in Room Thirteen

by Lynette Ferreira

  THE GIRL IN ROOM THIRTEEN

  LYNETTE FERREIRA

  This edition published on 1 September 2017

  First Edition

  Copyright © Lynette Ferreira

  Interior Formatting & Design: BellaTrix Books

  Cover Design: Marshmellow_Pillow

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This story is a product of my imagination and is a work of fiction

  Also available in Paperback

  www.lynetteferreira.blogspot.co.uk

  1

  I was never a scared girl. I never worried about things which went bump in the night but standing in front of this door, I could feel an awareness I had not known before making a connection to things yet unknown.

  Before my mum dropped me off here at boarding school and drove away again without a backwards glance, she tried to convince me why it would be good for me to come here. I pretended not to see she did not want to admit me being out of the way would be good for her and my stepfather.

  She met my father here but they did not really get to know each other until they met at a Christmas party at her parents’ house approximately nine months before I was born.

  Before my dad died and my mum married my stepfather, she used to tell me I was invincible, but if you replaced just two of the letters in that word it would be what I had actually become.

  I was twelve when my mum remarried and that was when I became invisible. Not invisible in a haunting the living from the grave kind of way, more like the unseen living kind.

  Maybe she only wanted me to follow in her footsteps, to be educated in the proper English way, to rub shoulders with snobs and lower royalties. Maybe she thought I would find the love of my life like she did until he died. Maybe, always so many maybes.

  This was only one of the reasons I was standing here with an Ouija board under my arm.

  I shivered when I heard the wind howling around the corners of the old boarding house and my eyes darted nervously toward the door with the painted over numbers: 13

  Rachel reached to take my hand, the bangles on her scarred wrist made a jangling noise. She had a wild mop of short, blonde, curly hair and a round face to match. Even though the shape of her face was round, the rest of her was really skinny so she looked a little top-heavy. “Don’t be afraid, Alison,” she said. “Even if Lily is still in there, it’s not as if she can hurt you, you know.”

  Rachel and Sinéad took me under their wing when I arrived a week ago, but they were both a year older and I did not know if they were trustworthy as they were essentially part of the group who instigated this initiation, a dare I had no choice but to accept.

  It was rumoured, Lily, the girl who used to reside in this room, fifteen years ago killed herself on the thirteenth of February, the day before Valentine’s Day. Witnesses saw her walking into the mist shrouded lake behind the boarding house. They said, she killed herself because of a boy.

  Rachel insisted, rubbing her wrist and making her bangles knock against each other like dull sounding Christmas bells, “If her ghost is in there, you can ask why she killed herself. Was it really just about a boy?”

  Sinéad had the largest eyes I had ever seen. It was not ugly or humongous in a grotesque kind of way, it was breathtakingly beautiful. They were so green it looked eerie. Her long brown hair hung dead straight down past her shoulders and the tips brushed across her forearms. She said with an excited tone in her voice, “Last night, I read this magazine and in it, it says science has confirmed at the moment of death the body releases a sort of radiation. They called it an electromagnetic field. So… When somebody dies within a closed space, this force will imprint itself on the furniture and walls.”

  “I thought you said she drowned in the lake?” I said.

  I did not know if I could go into a room which had been standing empty for over a decade and a half after someone had died in it, even if I needed to prove myself.

  She ignored me. “That’s why some people believe if somebody in the house died, all containers should be emptied of water because the water has been contaminated with the spirit of the dead person. It seems souls are attracted to water for some reason.” Her eyes darted between Rachel and me, to see if we could confirm whether this was true or not.

  If I was going to go into this room, I had to ignore her stories of ghosts and souls. “You cannot believe everything you read,” I insisted.

  Rachel asked, “Why then is this room always locked up? In all the years I’ve been here, no-one has ever stayed in it.”

  “What if there isn’t even a ghost and the school board is just superstitious about the number thirteen?” I asked.

  Rachel shrugged me off. “So are you scared?”

  “I wasn’t when I accepted the dare, but now the two of you are talking about all these supernatural things and it’s freaking me out.”

  Since I had accepted the challenge, I had been dreading the night of February the thirteenth.

  Every time I walked past the fearsome door, I felt shivers scurry down my back. I could not avoid the door and had to walk by it several times a day by no choice of my own.

  The boarding house was a two-storey building in the shape of a capital I. I lived on the first floor, five doors away from door number thirteen. Room number thirteen was the last room next to the large staircase which connected all the floors, so if I wanted to go anywhere I had to walk past that door which always felt like a black hole waiting to suck me into its depths if I lingered too long.

  Rachel pulled a key from her pocket. “It’s time,” she announced and inched past me.

  It was too late to wonder but I had to know. “How come you have a key?”

  “I’ve had this key for a while,” she said with a shrug.

  “But, why?”

  Sinéad nudged me with her elbow and whispered, “Rachel has issues.”

  Rachel looked over her shoulder and gave Sinéad an annoyed look.

  Sinéad winked. “Just kidding.” She faced me and mouthed, “She really does.”

  Rachel sighed. “I’m just interested in all things paranormal, so one day I’d like to come here myself.”

  I said, hopeful, “You can take my place. Do the dare instead.”

  “I’m not ready yet,” she said.

  I felt insulted. She was not ready, but I was being forced to complete a dare just to prove I am worthy of being here at this boarding school, a place I did not even want to be in the first place.

  She pushed the key into the lock.

  I really did not want to do this.

  Sinéad stood behind me and I felt a little claustrophobic standing between the two of them.

  The only thought running repeatedly through my mind as I heard the key turn in the lock, was: I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.

  The door swung open on stiff hinges which had not moved for a long time and made a soft moaning sound.

  A gust ruffled the bangs from my forehead. The air smelled stale and musty, undisturbed for ages. I wondered where the sudden blast of wind had come from.

  Sinéad shrieked softly and Rachel turned around to face her as she stepped aside. “Shh, do you want to wake the dead?”<
br />
  They both giggled as if it was funny.

  I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. The words did not leave my lips.

  Slowly I shuffled into the room, while they stayed on the other side of the threshold, being careful not to let their feet touch the boundary.

  My breath frosted out of my mouth, just by stepping into the room and goosebumps erupted on my bare arms. The room was really cold, like walking out of a warm house on a cold winters day. I shivered as I tried to fold my arms across my chest whilst still holding on to the Ouija board.

  The light from the corridor shined into the room and only fell on the standard single bed, bedside table, chest of drawers and study desk. I could see the faded, daisy-printed curtains similar to the ones decorating my room hanging in front of the window. In the dim light, the paint on the walls was the identical shade of dark with age egg-shell and the tiles on the floor were the same green as outside in the corridor.

  The light did not reach the corners of the small, rectangular room and where the shadows remained it was dark, devoid of any colour and gloomy. It was not dark enough so someone or something could hide in them, but it still made me feel fearful. The shadows moved like they were breathing, and I quickly lifted my hand to rub my eyes.

  Even though everything looked the same, it was not. The room had a different feel. It felt empty, cold and lonely.

  2

  Sinéad whispered behind me, “Okay. So, you know the rules. You have to stay here until after midnight.” Her voice echoed in the room. The sound went on and on, further and further away, making the room sound bigger than it actually was.

  Rachel pulled on Sinéad’s arm and told her, “Close the door.”

  I pulled the Ouija board from under my arm and mumbled, “No way am I going to use this thing.”

  Rachel replied indignantly, “How do you think you are going to talk to her? Can you speak to the dead?”

  “No, but I don’t think I should be playing around with this stuff.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Alison?” She asked me.

  “No.”

  “Well, then you’ll be okay. They sell those things as board games, and only people who watch horror movies think they actually work, so just give it a try.”

  “Come,” Sinéad said as she pulled Rachel away from the door. She had part of Rachel’s shirt bunched in her fist and she leaned forward while still holding onto her. She reached the door handle with her fingertips and pulled it shut.

  The only light remaining in the room was from the transom window above the door. Even though it was not bright, I could still see the shape of the bed, the bedside table and the study desk.

  My eyes darted toward the cupboard doors to make sure they were closed and my hand reached for the light switch next to the door without looking. After a few seconds, I found the protrusion on the wall and thumbed the switch down.

  A quick glance around the room proved I was alone as I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs. With my back against the wall, so nothing could surprise me from behind, I pulled the board from its box and placed it on the floor in front of me. I touched the planchette with only my thumb and ring finger, lifting it and then putting it in the centre of the board. I did not really want it to touch me.

  The dare required me to stay in room thirteen for the next three hours and to help me from being overwhelmed by a panic attack and failing to complete the dare, which was not an option, I pulled the thin sheet of rules from the box.

  Even though the rules stated clearly: Never use an Ouija Board alone! I was alone in a normal room which felt not normal at all. I had a notion there was a presence in here with me. Even when my eyes searched every corner and saw nothing, I knew there was something watching me. I could feel it in the way my neck tingled and the way my skin erupted in goose bumps.

  Never use an Ouija Board if you are depressed, stressed, irate, upset, bored, furious, sad, trepidatious, afraid, shocked, overconfident, or drowsy as you could let a demon into your life! My mum already allowed a demon into my life the day she married my stepfather. He was not abusive or threatening, and unlike in the movies he did not try to buy my love with things, he just pretended I did not exist and not long after they got married my mum stopped noticing me as well.

  Her life was all about him and at fifteen I realized I wanted nothing as much as I wanted my mum’s attention. I did not deny her any happiness in finding another husband, but I wanted her to sometimes put her needs and mine before what he always needed. I only wanted her to still be my mum but she could not do both and be good at it. It had to be me or him, and she chose him.

  Never use an Ouija Board if you think it is a game. As initiation at some boarding schools the older girls would raid rooms, pull mattresses off beds, make girls do the duck walk in a large circle, but not here. Here in these Gothic halls, something so mundane would be looked upon with disdain. A dare would be the only thing that would suffice.

  I arrived late, four and a half months after the Summer holidays, so I missed the week of initiation when all the other new girls arrived. They all came through the ordeal okay, I tried to convince myself.

  When Caitlyn, the head-girl, informed me, “The only way you’ll ever be accepted here is if you accept the dare,” I thought it was a joke. She shoved the Ouija board in my direction and added with a sneer, “Did you know, the very first Ouija boards were made from the wood of coffins. A coffin nail in the centre of the planchette window was used as the pointer.”

  A faint sound caught my attention, and I looked around the room. Seeing nothing, I decided it must have been the wind still howling and whistling around the corners of the boarding house, and making the limbs of the large old trees outside creak while the leaves brushing against each other made sighing noises.

  I looked down at the board. I had left the planchette in the middle of the board, not really caring where I put it, and now it had moved onto the word: Hello

  Maybe, I shifted my leg without realising and knocked the planchette with my knee, I tried to rationalise why it had moved from the middle of the board and now the word, Hello, was magnified within the planchette window.

  Besides, I thought I was supposed to be connected to the planchette, have my fingers resting on them gently so that unconsciously I would be answering my own questions.

  I asked, even though I thought it was ridiculous, “Is anybody here?”

  Nothing.

  Then I took a sharp breath when I saw the planchette quiver on the board as I looked at it. I could not rationalize it away, pretend I had knocked it or it was a draft or maybe even gravity. I saw it move.

  Pushing away from the board, I felt my back push against the cold wall behind me. My palms pushed down on the green laminated tiles on each side of me to push me up from the floor so I could leave the room as quickly as my legs could move. I was so done with this. I did not have to prove my worth to anyone.

  On legs that wanted to run but forgot how, I jumped over the board on the floor and when I landed, my right foot slipped on the tiled floor. It happened so quickly I did not have time to put my arms up to protect or to brace myself and I crashed head first into the door.

  A sharp pain shot through my forehead and I could feel it ripple down my spine. Clutching my head in both my hands, I slid down the door and felt my T-shirt scrunch up against my back as it fought against the friction.

  At first, I thought the hissing sound was from my T-shirt against the grain of the door, but when my eyes looked back at the board it was the noise the planchette was making as it moved across the letters. My eyes would not look away from the board as I watched the planchette spell the word: W.A.I.T.

  I took a breath deep enough to lift my chest and closed my eyes for a second before I asked in a husky whisper, “What’s your name?”

  The planchette started moving all by itself to the L. Then it moved a little faster to the I, and even faster to the L. Y.

  The roof light f
lickered on and off so fast it created a strobe light effect.

  Leave. Now.

  Then I remembered I wanted to be accepted, to be found worthy. I wanted someone to see me, not just notice me or be aware of me, I actually needed someone to really see me and I believed if I completed this dare I would deserve to be seen. After taking several deep breaths, I said, “My name is Alison.”

  The planchette spelt out the letters: I.K.N.O.W.

  My breath hitched in my throat. As I read the letters, I also heard them spoken out loud in my head, drowning out my silent screams.

  “Are you really dead?”

  The planchette moved to the word: Yes.

  Although I knew I was the only person in the room, my eyes still searched the empty corners. It could be that the senior girls were playing an initiation trick on me. Trying to scare me. Someone could be moving the planchette. Somehow. Or was I really talking to a ghost? The ghost of Lily?

  “How did you die?” If I was really talking to the ghost of Lily I would not get the known answer of walking into the lake and drowning. Lily would give me a reason.

  My eyes followed the quick movements of the planchette on the board. B.R.O.K.E.N.

  This time the word was only spelt. I did not hear it in my head.

  “Why are you still here, Lily?” I asked, feeling sorry for her. She must have been so sad and desperate at the time.

  I felt a sudden savage force knock me back against the door so hard, the door rattled in its metal frame. A chilling gust of wind lifted my hair away from my face as a piercing voice inside my head yelled, Because of you!

  I jumped to my feet so fast, I could not figure out how I got out of the room until I was standing outside in the corridor staring into the cold room. Shivers scampered through my body and made me feel weak. Everything that was keeping me together floated away from me and I fell down onto my knees.

  Sinéad and Rachel rushed to my side hurriedly and pulled me up from the floor.