The House of Wood (15 page)

The inevitable had arrived. It
dawned on her, that he had been leading them back to the subject
all along. He was good. She had to admit that.

“I guess we could.”

“You can stop any time you feel
it's getting too much. I'm here for you.”

She knew he meant it too. She
could see it in his eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I'm here for. I'm
ready when you are.”

She took a deep breath and
cleared her mind.

“We were having a good time
after the kiss. None of us had a care in the world. I guess at that
age it's how a group of teenagers should be on their last weekend
together. Carefree. Somehow, even the house seemed less gloomy and
oppressive. I should’ve known it wouldn't stay that way…”

Chapter
Fifteen

The group of us had been
partying for over an hour, with most of the alcohol already gone. I
felt as though I was viewing the world through glasses that were
way too strong for me; I had only drunk a few vodkas, but it was
far more than I could handle. Chelsea, who had drunk nearly a
bottle of wine, was fine. Justin had been by my side the entire
time.

I could still feel the
lingering traces of the kiss on my lips. My heart hammered in my
chest every time I thought about it. I was in love, there was no
denying that, but the fact that I would be leaving for college the
other side of the state, tainted it. Long distance relationships
never really work. It wasn’t just leaving Justin that made me feel
down. I looked around the dank room. It was becoming more and more
of a paradise by the minute. Chelsea and Tim were at each other
again; every now and then she would let out a girlish giggle
signalling her enjoyment. Apart from that, and the crackling flames
of the fire, everything was quiet. It was perfect.

“What’s up?” Justin asked,
wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Can’t fool me,” he said, with
a nudge. “I hope it wasn’t the kiss upstairs?”

“No, don’t think that. It’s
just…” I let the sentence trail off. Should I tell him? I fretted.
Should I pour my heart out?

“You can tell me.”

“I just don’t want to say
goodbye to everyone. My friends are all I’ve ever had. Well, them,
and a credit card as a parent.”

Justin laughed at my feeble
attempt at humour, stroking my hair and smiling at me. “Try not to
think about it. Nobody can predict what might be around the
corner.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” he replied,
smiling like a Cheshire cat. “I’m getting a drink, you want
one?”

I thought about it for a
moment. “No, thank you. I think I’ve drunk enough.”

“Go on, one more.”

“I can’t, I think I’m already
drunk.”

“Then one more won’t hurt,” Tim
said. “You’re always so prissy. Lighten up will ya.”

“Shut up Tim!” I retorted,
shooting him a look of annoyance. He was right though, I did need
to stop being so stiff. “Okay, just one more. But not too much.” I
didn’t want to puke in front of him.

Justin smiled and shot off in
to the kitchen. Chelsea stood up and then adjusted her skirt. She
looked in my direction, tipping me a wink, before grabbing Tim’s
hand and leading him to the doorway. I quickly caught on.

“Don’t go yet,” I hissed. “I
don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry.
Have fun.” Then they were gone, leaving me alone in the room.

The light from the small fire
made the shadows in the room look as though they were doing some
kind of macabre dance around the battered walls each time the
flames flickered. For the second time that day, I found my gaze
drawn to the portrait. The family sitting there looked so happy.
But the mother’s eyes gave her away. They seemed to have a deep
rooted sadness in them.

I sat staring at the picture
for several moments, my eyes following the contours of the faces
looking back at me. Slowly rising to my feet, I wandered over to
get a closer look. Not once did I blink. My eyes were locked on to
the girl. The only sound was my heart beat filling my ears.

“It’s amazing that picture has
survived all this damp.”

The voice made me spin on my
heels with a start. Justin was standing there watching, two drinks
in his hand. How long had he been standing there? I hadn’t heard
his footsteps.

He walked over and handed me
one of the glasses, his blue eyes encouraging. “Do you know the
story of this place?” He asked, walking past me towards the
portrait.

“Ummm, kind of.” I didn’t
really know it. All I knew was that a lot of accidents happened
there.

“I thought everyone knew the
stories. Want me to tell you?”

“Okay.”

The two of us sat down on the
moth eaten sofa. I sat close, so that Justin could put his arm
around me. He took a sip of his drink before starting his tale.

“This old house was built in
the eighteen-hundreds by a farmer that owned the fields around the
hill. He did it for his family.”

“Is that them in the
picture?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked
at my drink. “You drinking that?”

I took a large sip, the coke
fizzing on my tongue. “So, what happened to them?”

“Well everything started off
fine for the first ten years. The farm was doing well, money was
pouring in and Mrs McCain had given birth to a fine, healthy boy in
that time. Then it all went wrong.”

I hung on every word. How did
Justin know all this stuff? I guessed his father had told him, what
with being the owner and all. I snuggled closer to his chest while
I listened to more of the sad tale.

“Mrs McCain eventually gave
birth to a daughter. At first, everyone was happy, but after a time
a cloud settled over the house. The crops failed, which made the
money dry up. The story goes that Mr McCain took to drinking and
Mrs McCain had become a recluse after the birth of Lilly.”

“That poor family,” I said,
taking another sip of my drink. I just couldn’t believe how a
person’s life could go from heaven to hell so quick. There was one
question I had to ask. “What happened to the kids?”

“You sure you want to
know?”

“Yes.”

There was an intense pleasure
behind Justin’s eyes. He looked as though he was enjoying making me
hang on his every word. I found my chest rising and falling in
rapid bursts.

“Well the story goes that one
day Mr McCain came home blind drunk. Jacob, the son, was pushing
his little sister on her swing outside.”

I shuddered, the image of the
girl standing next to the swing flashed through my mind. Justin
must have noticed my discomfort. He pulled me tighter to him,
before continuing. He had a knack of making me feel safe.

“Mr McCain entered the house
only to find his wife dead. She had committed suicide while the
children had been playing.”

I took more of my drink. I
wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the rest, but I didn’t have the
heart to say anything.

Justin continued, his eyes
growing wider. “Without saying a word, the farmer reached for his
hunting rifle. Life would be unbearable. He shot himself at point
blank range. The locals claimed the shot rang out over the valley
like thunder.”

I drank the last dregs of my
drink.

“Want another one?” Justin
asked.

“I want to hear the rest of the
story first.” I had to know what happened.

Justin grinned. “Well I need a
drink. Be right back.”

He shot off, back in to the
kitchen, leaving me frustrated. My head was spinning with the
mixture of alcohol and questions. Why were we here? Had I really
seen someone out of the window? What happened to the two children?
I stood up and moved towards the kitchen. The picture caught my
attention, as I moved closer to it.

My breath caught in my throat.
No, it couldn’t be, could it? I could feel the panic rising again.
Stop being an idiot, I thought, trying to quell my rising doubt.
The familiarity between the girl in the picture and whatever I
thought I had seen upstairs was uncanny. It was just the drink
playing tricks on me, I was sure of it. I would’ve looked like a
complete idiot if I’d starting telling everyone that I had seen a
girl from a portrait, that was way over a hundred years old. All I
wanted was to be with Justin and have a good time.

I wandered over to the kitchen
to see if he needed a hand. The two glasses that we had been using
were sitting on the table alone; Justin was nowhere to be seen. He
must have gone to the toilet, I mused, as I cleared away. God knows
why I was bothering; the place was a bomb site. Upstairs I could
hear a lot of bumps and people moving around, which I assumed was
Chelsea and Tim doing their thing. At least somebody was getting
some!

I walked over to one of the
grime stained windows. It was completely black over the valley; the
only trees I could see, were the ones closest to the house. They
looked like statuesque guards, watching over the road leading up to
the house, swaying in the wind that was picking up to a gale, its
maniacal howl whipping through the cracks in the walls. The whole
setting looked like something out of a nightmare. I desperately
hoped that the morning wouldn't be too long in coming.

On the way back to the living
room, I stopped dead in my tracks. The piercing scream filled the
house, causing my stomach to drop. The dread that had been rising
in me all night became real. I felt sick. That wasn't the wind
howling.

“Oh my God,” I whispered,
bolting for the stairs.

***

I ran as fast as I could
towards the sound of the scream. My heart was racing, the blood
pumping a loud beat in my ears. I had known all along that
something bad was going to happen to one of us; no one had ever
stayed in the house without somebody coming to some sort of harm.
People had died here. Nathan tried to warn me. I remember praying
as hard as I could that it was nothing serious.

When I reached the top of the
stairs, Chelsea was huddled in one corner of the hallway opposite
the bathroom, her head tucked between her knees. She was rocking
backwards and forwards.

“No, no, no it can't be.”

“Chelsea what happened?” I
asked, running over to her. “Where’s Tim?”

“He just went to the bathroom.
He was gone ages. I was waiting for him, but he never came back.
No, oh my God, no.”

“Chelsea you need to calm down.
Where’s Tim?”

Still she continued to babble.
I shook her violently by the shoulders. Justin came bounding up the
stairs.

“What the hell’s happened here?
Is she okay?” He asked, a look of concern mixed with fear on his
face.

“I don't know. She won't stop.
Please Justin, try and find Tim. All I could get out of her was
that he went to the bathroom.”

“Okay, I’ll check.”

Justin dashed off to the
bathroom, calling out Tim’s name. I heard no answer, so I just sat
attempting to calm my friend down. She sobbed hard into her lap.
God knows what had happened, but I vouched we wouldn't be staying
much longer; as soon as Justin found Tim, we would be getting the
hell out and never coming back. With any luck, I hoped, Tim
would’ve just passed out in the toilet due to drinking too much.
But then why was Chelsea crying?

“Rach, come quick,” Justin
called from inside the bathroom.

I left her to rock back and
forth and made my way there. With every step I took, the fear
inside me rose like hot air. The walls seemed to close in on me;
the corridor appeared longer than I remembered. Justin stood in the
doorway, a grim look plastered over his face.

“Don’t go in there,” he urged,
trying to block the entrance.

I ignored him and pushed past,
a morbid need to see for myself overpowering my better judgement. I
took a sharp breath then puked.

Tim’s lifeless body swung
limply on a rope, attached to an exposed beam in the ceiling, a
puddle of blood gathering beneath his feet. His eyes had been
gouged out and his lips cut in to a permanent smile. His chest
looked like a tiger had been playing games on it. Behind the body,
was a dripping message scrawled in blood along the wall.

Get out! Get out! Get out!

Justin just about caught me
before I fainted.

“Are you alright?”

“I told you this place isn’t
right.” Tears started to form under my eyes, the sobs tumbled from
my body. The shock had drained me. “I told you I saw something, but
no one would listen. N-N-Now Tim’s dead.”

The two of us stood there for a
few moments, surrounded by the horror until I managed to compose
myself a little. “We have to call the police.”

“And say what? A ghost murdered
our friend? No, we’d just be laughed at. Anyway, there’s no signal
out here.”

“What the hell are we going to
do?” I screamed at him, letting my fear take control. All I could
see in my mind was the doll’s face. Tim reminded me of them. “It
was the girl, the one from the picture, she did this!”

“You need to calm down and get
a grip,” Justin explained, taking me by the shoulders. “Go
downstairs and get the car started, I’ll get Chelsea. We need to
get out of here as fast as we can, then we can figure out what to
tell the cops.”

I stopped crying and looked
deep in to his eyes. He was so brave and strong. His strength
calmed me to the point where everything felt like a dream, even
though I knew it wasn’t. I was glad he was here.

“Rachel, go,” Justin said,
snapping me out of my thoughts.

I did as I was told and made my
way back downstairs, listening to my friend’s sobs coming from the
bedroom. Nothing seemed real. Anytime now I would wake up to the
sunshine pouring through my bedroom window, my mother, calling me
from the kitchen as she cooked bacon and eggs.

I pinched my arm at the bottom
of the stairs. Nothing happened; still I was stuck in a nightmare
that I thought would never end.