by Blake Croft
Abbie hadn’t slept in three days. Richard had put down his pen and picked up a bottle of gin. Dave was a shadow of his former self, walking about the house with the old teddy bear clutched in his hand.
“Why do you carry that around?” Abbie had asked him last night when she had tucked him in her bed, secretly glad that Dave was sleeping with them.
“It will take me to Aiden so I can bring him back,” Dave had said, his young face so serious that it had broken Abbie’s heart all over again. “I wasn’t brave before. If I had stayed with him at night I could have stopped it. I’ll try to be brave now, Mom.”
There was no coming back from this. Abbie was sure she was going to lose her mind, if she didn’t find out what had happened to her son. He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air.
Abbie picked up the uneaten sandwich from the coffee table. Dave was watching Teen Titans on TV, his eyes glazed. She brushed the tears off her face and walked into the kitchen. Sniffing, she turned on the water in the sink, hoping some domestic work would take her mind off of Aiden and where he could be. Plugging the sink, she waited for it to fill with warm soapy water. She looked up at the beach, hoping to catch sight of Aiden running; the beach was empty, but for a single figure that stood a few yards from the house.
Doralise waited patiently, her hands folded in front of her long green dress.
Abbie saw red. She marched out of the house, all her anger and frustration zeroing to a thin point with which she wanted to skewer the Creole woman.
“What do you want? Why are you here?”
Doralise stood her ground, unfazed by Abbie’s spite.
“I’m here to help you.”
“Help me? Bah!” Abbie laughed, but there was no mirth in the hollow sound. “You’re an evil bitch who is enjoying my misery and pain. Have you come to gloat? Have you? You think my current state of mind makes me vulnerable to your con?”
“This is not a con, Abbie.” Doralise stepped forward, her large hands spread out. “You need to leave the house before something worse happens. Your eldest son is in grave danger.”
“Are you threatening me? This is bullshit. I’m calling the police.” Abbie turned back to the house.
“Ask your husband why you’re here.”
Abbie stopped in her tracks. She looked back, the wind blowing her hair in her face.
“What do you mean?”
“There are reasons he doesn’t want to leave, but his book isn’t one. There is a reason he has kept you in this house despite you wanting to leave. Ask him why.”
“What does that have to do with Aiden?”
Doralise looked forlorn. She glanced up at the house and shook her head.
“Forget about Aiden. Get Dave out of the house.”
“What do you mean forget about Aiden?” Abbie tore at her hair in frustrated rage. She said she was here to help but refused to give her anything but cryptic answers. “Where is he? Do you know where he is?”
Doralise looked pained, as if it hurt her to reveal so much. She nodded, her lips pursing into a thin line.
“You know where he is. You have had dreams about the house, haven’t you?”
Abbie licked her dry lips. The moonlight, the guilt, her heavy body lumbering towards the lake covered in blood. “I don’t know what you mean. Give me a proper answer. Where is he?”
Doralise looked up at the house again, and swallowed.
“Inside the house.”
Chapter Fifteen
— ∞ —
June 19th – 2:44 PM
Lakeshore Drive, Mandeville – Louisiana
A s Abbie moved back to the house, Doralise placed a heavy comforting hand on Abbie’s shoulder. Abbie shrugged it off with a violence that was alien to her.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Abbie snapped. “I’m asking you for a straight answer and you’re playing with me?”
“I know what I’m saying sounds crazy.” Doralise didn’t seem to mind Abbie’s reaction. “It was why I didn’t want to talk to you about it at the market, but I was wrong. You’ve lost one child, but it’s not too late to save the other and yourself. You have to leave.”
“Where is my son,” Abbie insisted. “If you want to help, tell me where he is.”
“Your son already told you.” Doralise sighed and let her hands fall to her side. “You’ve seen the closet. It is a place of great horrors. You must leave at once. Save your boy, your husband, and yourself.”
“And leave Aiden behind?” Abbie shrieked. “What if we go and he comes back?”
“The closet gives nothing back.” Doralise tried to hold Abbie’s hand again, but Abbie flinched away.
“I’ll wreck that closet,” she hissed. “I’ll smash it to pieces.”
“And it won’t bring Aiden back,” Doralise insisted. “Did you hear about the Willow family?”
“Who are you talking about?”
“The… Never mind. The entity permeates the whole house now. You must listen to me. Leave.”
“No, you leave!” Abbie shouted her. “Leave or else I will call the police.”
A strange look came over Doralise’s face, a mixture of pity and contempt. “Please, have a look.” She took a yellowed newspaper out of her handbag, and handed it to her.
Abbie didn’t stick around to listen to more of her lunacy. She pushed the old newspaper away, then she turned and marched back to the house.
Abbie slammed the back door shut, and she went to the kitchen window to make sure Doralise had left. She could see the fuchsia headdress retreating down the beach. Abbie watched to see if the woman would stop. She had meant it when she threatened to call the police if that vile woman didn’t leave.
How had it come to this? Hounded by quacks and con artists in their time of grief. How could any human being exploit the vulnerable like this?
“What’s happened?”
Richard was standing in the kitchen, his eyes wild with fear. Abbie looked at him for a full minute, trying to analyze what it was that had been bothering her that she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. Richard licked his dry lips, his eyes darting to the back door and then out the window in quick succession.
He looked trapped.
“Why would anyone want to kidnap Aiden?” She thought aloud.
“Huh? What?” Richard tore his eyes away from the window to look at Abbie.
“I said why would someone kidnap Aiden? What would be the reason behind it?”
Richard looked away a fraction too soon for Abbie’s liking, raising alarm bells.
“How would I know?” He shrugged.
She noticed his thinning hair, the dark shadow of a beard that had been growing for more than a week, his bitten nails, and the red rimmed eyes that wouldn’t settle down or meet hers.
“Why are we here, Richard?”
“Not this again!” Richard scratched his beard. “I told you I have—”
“Okay.” Abbie held a hand up. “You’re right. We’ve already discussed this. Why can’t we leave?”
“What?” Richard finally looked at her, and in that moment he reminded her of Dave or Aiden running out of lies to hide behind and coming out clean.
“Why can’t we go back, Richard? Why was it so important for all of us to stay here? Who are you hiding from?”
“Hiding?” Richard tried to laugh but it fell flat.
“Don’t lie to me,” Abbie snarled. “Who took my son?” Abbie picked up a knife from the draining board and pointed it at Richard. “Tell me or I swear I will gut you!”
Richard held up his hands in surrender. “Abbie, please. I can explain.”
Abbie took another step forward. Richard’s eyes darted behind her. Abbie stopped suddenly, hoping Dave wasn’t standing behind her, a witness to this dreadful scene. That’s when Richard lunged forward trying to wrench the knife out of Abbie’s hands. But Abbie was too quick for him. She stepped aside and slashed at his hand.
Blood spurted out of his cut palm, smeari
ng the white tiles crimson.
“You bitch!” Richard screamed holding his hand in his shirt. The light blue was turning dark with blood.
“Where is my son?” Abbie screamed. “Who took him?”
“Lemmy,” Richard croaked. “I thought it might be Lemmy. But it’s not.”
“Who’s Lemmy?”
“A man I borrowed a lot of money from.” He winced against the pain in his palm. “I owed him a lot of money and he was getting antsy about payment. We had to leave the state. He’s a cold blooded killer, Abbie. He could have murdered you and the kids in your sleep. I couldn’t leave you there.”
“What did you need the money for?”
“What?”
“Answer the question!”
Richard swallowed.
“A few gambling losses. No, a lot of gambling losses.” Richard’s hands were shaking. “Abbie, I’m sorry.”
The knife clattered to the floor. Abbie stared down at the man she had given so many years to, who she had been faithful to, and he had put her and her children through hell because of the mistakes he had made.
Abbie stumbled back to the sink, her hands clutching at the ceramic for support.
“Abbie, I’m so sorry.” Richard got up and touched her arm.
“You bastard!” Abbie snatched the nearest plate and smashed it against Richard’s head. Richard staggered back, his legs failing under him and he went sprawling on the floor. “My child is missing. My son could be dead because of you, and you failed to mention this to the police! You heartless bastard. Dave suffered because of you.”
She kicked his prone body till the tsunami of anger subsided a little, and her body was drained of energy. She picked up the phone from its stand and dialed the police.
“Hello? Yes, this is Abbie Coltrane from the beach house on Lakeshore Drive. Yes. Could you please tell Officer Dupree that it’s my husband’s fault? He had gambling debts and a loan shark had been threatening him back in Denver. No, I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel safe at all.”
She hung up and sat down, her back resting against the wall. She was too tired to cry or even sleep. All she wanted was her children in her arms.
The house was awfully quiet. Abbie was suddenly worried about Dave. She couldn’t hear the TV and she hadn’t seen him in a while. She got up off the floor, walked over Richard and out of the kitchen. Dave wasn’t in the living room, or any of the rooms on the ground floor. Abbie wanted to call out to him but the silence was forbidding, as if a small sound would disturb some monstrous creature from the deep.
The stairs were dark even in the afternoon. Abbie avoided the third step from the top because it always creaked. She could hear soft murmuring, as if some people were having a quiet conversation in one of the rooms. Abbie followed the sound till she was standing outside the children’s room. The door was closed.
Abbie could hear Dave talking and when Aiden replied her heart swelled. Doralise had been right. Aiden was in the house! Abbie felt her body lighten as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She turned the knob but the door wouldn’t budge.
Grunting and sweating, Abbie struck her shoulder against the doorframe, ignoring the pain. The only emotion that consumed her was a ravenous hunger to see her children. “Dave, Aiden! Open the door. Please!”
The wood splintered and the door swung open. Abbie stood just inside the room panting.
The room was empty.
“Aiden? Dave?”
Abbie picked up the mattresses and threw them to the side, she checked under the beds, behind the curtains, then tore them down, her mind frantic with worry. She screamed, hoping it would bring them back.
The closet door creaked open behind her.
Abbie stared at the swatch of darkness. She finally understood why Dave was terrified of it. It was a black mass that sucked in light and life and let nothing out. Abbie crept closer hoping against hope Dave was hiding inside, even though she knew how much he hated the sight of the damned closet.
The wood felt ice cold beneath her fingers, as she pulled the door open. The raggedy teddy sat in one corner staring at her with its beady lifeless eyes. She picked it up. The bear began to sing with two voices simultaneously. Aiden and Dave's voices.
“Bumble, bumble ,
My busy bee,
Buzzing around,
The mulberry tree.
From hither to tither,
From blossom to bush,
Making up honey,
For Mummy and me!”
Abbie was so startled that she dropped the bear.
“Dave! Aiden!” Her frantic hands plunged into the closet, feeling around but touching nothing. She walked inside the darkness that seemed to have swelled and extended. It seemed cavernous, larger than before, its depth unknowable in the darkness. Abbie stepped forward, calling her children. Her foot stuck something soft and she bent quickly to pick it up.
It was the teddy bear, and it was warm as if just released from a child’s embrace.
I’m going insane. How can this be happening? Where are my children?
“What are you doing here?”
Abbie stopped in the dark, her hands falling back to her side because suddenly she didn’t want to touch anything in the dark closet.
“Hello? Please. Is anyone there? Have you seen my children?”
“Your children?” The female voice whispered in her right ear.
Abbie whirled around but could see nothing in the dark. Heart slamming in her chest, Abbie held her breath. “They are my children. He is my husband. You can’t steal the life I have built from under my feet.” Cold fingers caressed the nape of her neck and grabbed a handful of her hair. Abbie cried out.
“They are mine, finally returned to me. And I will never let them out of my sight again.” said the voice.
Abbie tried to break free of the hold on her scalp. Her legs were no longer supporting her. Shadows shifted in the darkness and a woman emerged. Her hands were pale like curdled milk, their nails long talons. She wore a high collared dress, her hair piled high on her head. But it was her face that was the most terrible thing about her. Abbie just had a glimpse of it, and it was more than she could stomach. It was slashed, as if by large claws, skin hanging in strips around the jaw, one eyeball punctured and oozing. As quickly as she appeared, the woman disappeared in the darkness. As Abbie stepped back from the vision, she noticed that it smelled of salt water and seaweed.
Abbie turned to the closet doors, two narrow windows of light. How far had she gone in the closet? As she struggled to run towards them, the light diminished little by little.
The doors were closing.
She increased her pace but her limbs were so heavy, bogged down by an unseen weight.
She had nearly reached the thin lines of light when they disappeared as the doors closed with a gentle snap.
Abbie stood still in the dark suddenly lost. She didn’t know where she stood, how far from the doors, or from anything. Where was the woman? Just behind her, or up ahead? The space seemed vast and tiny at the same time. Her breath was hitched in her throat and anxiety grew in her stomach like a cancerous tumor.
Then, low but growing in intensity, she heard her low voice. “You will be punished.”
— § —
Richard came to, his head spinning worse than any hangover he had had in all his life. He slowly got to his feet, his head pounding in protest. The shards of china crunched under his booted foot, and the argument with Abbie came back to him.
His heart plummeted to his knees. She was going to leave him, he knew it. How could he have messed this up? Richard rubbed his itching eyes. He had lost everything, his career, and his family.
He groaned and struggled to get out of the kitchen. He needed an aspirin. He couldn’t think straight. Taking a step at a time, Richard climbed the stairs. He stumbled through the bedroom he had shared with Abbie, and to the bathroom where he downed two aspirin with a glass of tap water. He saw Abbie’s toothbrus
h was still in the stand. It gave him hope that Abbie hadn’t left yet. Maybe he still had a chance to turn things around.
Buoyed by hope, he left the bathroom in search of his wife when he heard Aiden calling his name. He stood stock still for a moment, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him. But there it was again.
“Dad?”
Richard rushed out of the door. Had Aiden come back? Was God giving him another chance at making his life better?
“Aiden, where are you?”
“I’m in here, Dad.”
Richard went to the children’s bedroom. The door was open wide. He could hear police sirens in the distance but he wasn’t really bothered by it. Aiden stood in front of the closet. He looked paler than usual, but it was his little boy, in flesh and blood.
“Come on, Dad. I miss you!”
“Oh, kiddo. You have no idea how much—”
Richard stopped, as if the words had been snatched out of his throat. There were hands in the closet, pale long talons that reached out and grabbed Aiden by the arm.
“No,” Richard croaked. “It’s not real. I’m dreaming.”
“Come on, Dad.” The arms dragged Aiden into the dark, his little face a mask of agony. “Please, Dad.”
Richard rushed forward and yanked the closet open. “Aiden!” he screamed, but the closet was empty.
The sirens grew louder, and cars parked along the house, but Richard was focused on the closet.
Only a small dirty teddy bear sat in one corner, its black button eyes staring at him quizzically.
Doors slammed underneath him; voices shouted his name. Richard bent on the floor prostrated under the weight of his grief, sobbing for his family.
Epilogue
— ∞ —
D oralise sipped her morning coffee and read the Mandeville Gazette that detailed the trial of famous mystery writer Richard Coltrane who had been accused of murdering his family in cold blood over money and a gambling debt. The prosecution didn’t look too optimistic of a guilty verdict since the bodies had never been found.