Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (21 page)

The kitchen was once again terrible mess, but it was worth it. My opportunities for fun were so few that the joy of having one brought tears to my eyes. After the room was once again reasonably clean, I made batter. Gabriel came back in as I was about to flip the first pancake.

“Do you have to go to the office?”

“No, I took the day off. That was the lab. They didn’t find any prints except for yours and a few of mine.”

“I didn’t think they would, did you?” I asked spooning another dollop onto the skillet.

“No. But I was hoping.”

“The eternal optimist?”

“Just looking for a break.” He leaned against the counter next to the stove.

“Hmph. That’s funny.”

“What?’

“I hadn’t thought about this stuff since last night.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes and no. It's nice to have a break and not be shrouded in darkness all the time, but it isn’t helping me stay focused on what’s important.”

“Maybe it's good to take your mind off the prize for a while, that way you can go back in with a clear head.”

“Maybe.” I broke eye contact with Gabriel and flipped the lightly bubbling pancakes. I found myself hoping he was right. That I could go back to the house with new eyes and maybe find clues I had missed before. I looked over my shoulder at Gabriel. “I think some of your hope is rubbing off on me.”

“It’s contagious.”

“Lots of things are—and very few of them are good for you. But, hell, I’ll give it a shot. What else do I have going for me?”

“I imagine there's a lot more than you think.”

“So what’s your plan for the day?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked. Today we scour your house.”

“What? We’ve searched the house a thousand times. It’s neither fun nor relaxing.”

“No? Well, that’s too bad. It's time for this to be over with once and for all. If someone’s been hiding in your house, there has to be evidence. I'd look alone, but you know the house better than anyone. We'll start at the top and work our way down. We're missing something; I just don’t know what.”

“Top to bottom,” I agreed, dread knotting my stomach.

Chapter Ten

Spending the night away from the house was like a vacation from a job I hated. It was relaxing and a much needed break, but I had to go back. Being away, even for such a short time, left me with the impression that, perhaps, there was more life for me to live. That fledgling hope made it much harder to come back to reality. Continuously I reminded myself I had to do this or never be released. I had to see this to the end.

As Gabriel and I drove towards the house, our conversation dwindled into a heavy silence. The house loomed at the end of the street, shaded and patiently waiting. It watched the car approach through veiled eyelids, like it was expecting my return. The hatred I felt for it re-ignited.

Opening the door to the immediate sensation that I was never gone at all, brought back the weariness I hoped to have escaped. The house seemed to hold on to a piece of me, a piece I was incomplete without. I inspected the room with a wary eye. Nothing seemed out of place, but something was wrong. Exactly what stayed just out of reach of my senses, but its eager anticipation of being discovered was as real, thick, and heavy as humidity.  I would go no further. I knew how this story ended. I had finally had enough. Whatever horror lurking in the shadows to traumatize me would just have to wait. I wasn’t going to meet it this time. 

Whatever it is, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know, I repeated as a mantra against the part of me that wanted to push on, the part of me that could never accept that ignorance truly was bliss. 

Images of blood and gore washed over my mind in a wave: mutilated bodies, miscellaneous parts, streams of crimson blood flowing down the staircase, hundreds of bodies heaped into uncaring piles. My heart quickened, my breathing became a conscious effort. The sheer terror of the house seized me in a way it hadn’t for months.

“Do you want to start upstairs or down?” A voice seeped into my consciousness, interrupting my internal battle. I had forgotten I wasn’t alone.

“What?” I said sharply.

“Attic or Basement?” he asked, not noticing the edge.

Attic or basement? Who cared? If the house wanted us dead, it didn’t matter where we went. There was only one option for escape. My mind raced in panic.

“It's not safe for you to be here.” I fought to keep my voice steady, to not let onto the fear I was feeling.

“What are you talking about?” He looked around, apparently oblivious to the threat all around us.

“I have a really bad feeling about being here today.”

“That’s because you have something normal to compare it with. I'll be fine, you'll be fine, I promise. Now attic or basement?”

“You don’t understand. I know this house—something is wrong in here. There’s more anger, hatred than usual. Can’t you feel it? I can’t remember the last time it was this bad. Nothing good can happen today.” But that wasn’t entirely true. I did remember the last time it was this bad. That fateful day ended in pools of blood with my husband pinned to the wall, all life drained from his shell.

Gabriel didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be legitimately trying to understand what I was saying. “I honestly don’t feel anything. It feels like a house, a quiet, rather lonely house in need of some life, but still just a house.” Gabriel walked in a few steps further, holding his arms out as if to say, see it’s okay.

My nerves tightened with each step he took. I wanted to close my eyes or turn away from what I was seeing. Energy crackled in the air. Gabriel took another step towards the kitchen.

“I can’t do this,” I said, finding it hard to breathe. I went back onto the porch letting the lovely morning sunshine sooth my frayed nerves. Gabriel followed, concerned.

“I can’t do this,” I repeated.

“Sure you can. You’ve done this every day. Today is no different.”

“Trust me, it's different. I can’t explain how, but it is.”

“Okay, how do we fix it?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could go for a walk, clear the anxiety, then try again?”

I nodded. That was safe and took us away from here. As we walked down the steps back into a world not shrouded in darkness, something like a frustrated scream came from inside of the house. I looked at Gabriel to see if he’d heard it. He was looking back at the house with hawk-like focus. He pushed me towards the driveway with one arm and proceeded back up the steps.

“Gabriel, no. Don’t go in again, please. Let’s go.  Please.”

He ignored me, reached for the handle. He tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed the door with his shoulder, but nothing moved.

He looked back, flabbergasted. “It’s locked.”

“Please, can we just go for a walk?” I asked again, near tears as I stood helplessly at the bottom of the steps.

“Fine. We'll have to wait for a locksmith anyway.”

Gabriel insisted on calling the locksmith before we left. I didn’t care who he called so long as we didn’t have to stay there. I didn’t bother to tell him that a locksmith wouldn’t do any good. We didn’t lock ourselves out. A priest seemed like a more reasonable course of action given what we were dealing with.

We walked slowly in the quiet morning. Dew glistened on the blades of grass in the lawns we passed. The leaves on the trees gently rustled, while the sunlight made them glow from within. The symphony of birds chirping, bugs humming, wind chimes ringing and children playing blended in a lovely white noise that drowned out the darkness. We were safe, that was all that mattered. 

I continued walking, but sped up, nearly trotting. I could just keep going and never stop.  I could walk away from everything, be done and forget about it all. The thought was so intoxicating I started smiling. I never would have to see those windows staring down at me, never have to hear the moaning floor boards on the stairs, never have to feel the cold indifference in the air again. I would be able to sleep, not have panic attacks at the slightest provocation, and have friends I could laugh and hang out with.  I would never have to push the memory of Danny’s limp, lifeless body from my mind again. I could forget it all—

But there was the catch. There always is.  In order to move on without some sort of resolution, I would have to forget Danny, otherwise the whole awful thing would hold onto to me wherever I went. I would have to forget the way his smile lit up his face and made his eyes gleam. I would have to forget the sound of his laughter filling the room, the smell of his skin, the feel of his hand in mine—“Christ, I thought you were going to start running for a minute,” Gabriel said beside me. “What’s up? Why’d you stop?”

I hadn’t realized that I had stopped. My legs were heavy, as if they could walk no further. The smile that briefly graced me with its presence vanished with my lovely day dream. I couldn’t leave. My legs knew that, my heart knew that—just my mind was slow to catch up.

I swallowed back the frustration and inclined my chin towards the sky, hoping God would strike me down rather than make me go back.

“We should return.” I said defeated.

“The locksmith won’t be here for a while.”

“Like that really matters.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you honestly believe we are locked out?”

“Well, the door wouldn’t open. . . .”

“It was punishing me, that's all. Trust me, we’ll get back in just fine.”

“Houses don't punish people,” he replied just a bit stubbornly. The frustration of his arguing with me about something I knew about and he didn’t was almost too much.

“Fine, you stay. I'm going back.” I charged back in the other direction this time.