The Secret Bedroom (15 page)

“I invaded your mind, Lea,” Catherine explained in a flat, emotionless tone. “I gave you visions. I made you believe you were upstairs in the secret bedroom. But that room has been boarded up all along. You were down here in your bedroom the whole time.”

“But why? Why?” Lea asked. The blanket gripped tightly up to her chin wasn't keeping out the cold, the cold fear that had swept over her entire body.

“That room upstairs is evil,” Catherine said. Her eyes glowed bright scarlet as she said this. She floated up off the bed, hovering over Lea, the light from her eyes burning Lea's face.

Lea turned her head away.

Catherine eased back onto the edge of the bed. “It's evil. I boarded the room up myself. A hundred years ago. I did it. And that door will stay locked
forever.”

Lea didn't say anything. She felt so sleepy. It was hard to concentrate on Catherine's words. It was hard to make sense of them.

“I saw you go up to the attic the first time,” Catherine continued. “I saw you approach the boarded-up door. I saw you listening there. At first, I tried to scare you away from it.”

“You mean—?” Lea remembered those first frightening visits to the attic.

“Yes. The dripping blood and the metal spikes. I did that,” Catherine said. “I had to scare you. I had to keep you away from that room of evil. But it wasn't enough. When I saw you were determined to open the door, to enter the room, I invaded your mind. I made
you think you were upstairs. I made you think you had opened the door. But you were down here in your bedroom the whole time.”

Catherine laughed, a high-pitched giggle that made her golden ringlets tumble and shake. It was obvious that she was bragging, pleased with herself, with the trick she had played on Lea.

“But why did you go to all that trouble?” Lea asked in her husky voice. “Why did you make me think I was upstairs?”

“So you wouldn't be afraid to be in your own bedroom,” Catherine replied, as if the answer were obvious. “I needed you to be comfortable. I needed you to feel sorry for me, to sympathize with my sad story. I needed you to believe in me.”

Lea shifted uncomfortably, gripping the blanket even tighter with both hands, feeling cold, so cold she started to shiver. “What's going to happen now, Catherine?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

“Now we're going to share this room,” Catherine said, leaning close. “And your body.”

“No!” Lea tried to scream, but she felt too weak, too sleepy, too dizzy.

“Now you are mine!” she heard Catherine cry.

And then she could feel the weight on her head, feel the heavy pressure drop down through her body. Heavy. So heavy.

She knew Catherine was invading her, possessing her.

But Lea was too weak, too sleepy to resist.

In a few seconds Catherine had taken full possession. “How lovely!” she said cheerfully in Lea's voice.

C
atherine had taken over.

During the next few days, as she waited around the house for her temperature to return to normal, Lea felt like a visitor in her own body. She was conscious. She was alert to everything that was going on. But she had no control over what she said or did.

She had no voice. She could only think.

She still had a will, but she could only follow.

It was Catherine's body now.

Lea would argue with Catherine, try to convince Catherine to leave her alone. But Catherine ignored Lea's silent pleas.

As if Lea didn't exist.

Sometimes, without warning, Lea would suddenly feel Catherine's presence float out from her body. These times filled Lea with hope and relief. Back in charge of her body, she felt like crying or leaping for joy.

But she was always too tired.

And too frightened.

And then, too short a while later, she would feel Catherine reenter, taking over once again. And Lea returned to her frightening position as a silent partner, a silent partner in her own body!

Where did Catherine go when she left Lea's body?

Lea never asked. Catherine would most likely ignore her question anyway.

Catherine was in charge now.

Catherine was the only one allowed to ask questions.

One morning, when Catherine had disappeared for a short while, Lea nearly told her mother what was happening. But she stopped herself just in time.

If I tell her I'm being possessed by a ghost, that a ghost is controlling my every word and act, I'll spend the rest of my life locked up in a hospital somewhere, Lea realized.

So she resisted the temptation, and soon afterward Catherine returned. “Maybe we can go out today,” Catherine told her. “Maybe we are finally strong enough to leave the house. I have some big plans for us, Lea. Some very important things we must do.”

Lea, dreading the answer, asked what Catherine had planned. But once again her silent question was ignored.

“You seem to be doing fine,” Lea's mother said cheerily, bursting into the room, pulling back the curtains from the twin windows, revealing a clear, sunny day. “Why don't you take a walk or something today? Get out of this stuffy house.”

“Yaay!” Catherine yelled in Lea's voice. She kicked off the covers and climbed to her feet.

“Now, don't overdo it,” Mrs. Carson said, pulling open one of the windows to let some cold, fresh air into the room.

“I won't,” Catherine told her. “It's such a pretty day. Maybe I'll just go for a short walk.”

“Just promise you won't overdo it,” Mrs. Carson said, looking concerned. “You've been a pretty sick young lady.”

“I feel great!” Catherine said.

When Mrs. Carson went back downstairs, Lea pulled on a pair of black denims and a maroon and gray Shadyside High sweatshirt and then began searching the cluttered floor of Lea's closet.

“What are you doing?” Lea asked silently. “Catherine, what are you looking for?”

Catherine didn't reply as Lea's hands continued to search. Then, finally, mysteriously, she said, “Big plans, Lea. Big plans. Aha! Here it is.”

She pulled a piece of heavy twine out of the closet, twine that had held together the last of Lea's cartons that had finally been unpacked.

“Catherine—what are you going to do with that?” Lea demanded.

“You mean, what are
we
going to do with it,” Catherine said mischievously.
“We
are going to have a little fun.” Lea had no control. Against her will, she felt herself pull the coarse twine taut, then snap it between her hands. “We're going to teach Don Jacobs a little lesson,” Catherine told her.

“Huh?” Lea wasn't sure she had heard correctly. “Don?”

“He and Marci were real close, right?” Catherine asked. But it wasn't a question. “I heard everything, Lea. I heard you telling everything to Deena on the phone. I was in your bedroom all the time, remember?”

“But Don—” Lea started.

“Don needs to be taught a lesson too,” Catherine said coldly. “Come on. Let's go, Lea. Let's see what you can do.”

D
on lived in a square, red-brick house on Canyon Road. Someone must have spent the entire morning raking leaves, Lea realized, for an enormous leaf pile stood in the middle of the small front yard.

“What a beautiful walk we've had,” Catherine said silently to Lea. “The air—it smells so fresh and sweet. I think autumn is my favorite time of the year.”

Lea responded with glum silence. She had argued with Catherine the entire way over to Don's house, trying to stop her from carrying out whatever horrid plans she had for Don.

“But I'm doing it for
you,
dear” was Catherine's only reply, and then she chose to ignore Lea entirely.

When they had reached Don's block, Lea made one last desperate effort to regain control of her body. She concentrated on driving Catherine away, on making her legs stop.

But Lea was too weak.

Catherine was firmly in charge.

Despite Lea's efforts, her legs kept moving, she continued walking briskly over the leaf-strewn side-walks toward Canyon Drive and Don's house.

“It's no use trying to resist,” Catherine told her as they walked up the asphalt drive. “I'm doing this for you. Don was such a little slave to Marci. He never stood up for you.”

“Catherine,
please—”
Lea begged.

But she was ringing the doorbell.

Please don't be home, Lea thought. Please don't be home.

Footsteps inside. The white front door was pulled open. Don stood in the doorway, a startled look on his face. “Lea!”

“Hi, Don,” Catherine said in Lea's voice. “How are you?”

“Lea—how are
you?”
Don asked, holding open the storm door. “I heard you were sick.”

“I'm okay now.” She stepped into the small entranceway. The house smelled of roasting chicken. She could hear heavy metal music blaring from somewhere upstairs.

“What a surprise,” Don said, wiping his hands on his sweatshirt. “I just finished raking leaves. Some guys are coming over, and—”

“I'll only stay a minute,” she said. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, you must've been pretty broken up. About Marci.”

Don lowered his head, averting his eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered.

The room was silent for a moment, except for the music from upstairs.

“It was pretty tough,” he said finally, still avoiding her glance. “Such a shock. I mean, such a stupid accident. It was—unbelievable.”

“Yes. Unbelievable,” she repeated softly.

Lea listened helplessly as the conversation continued, Catherine speaking so sympathetically to Don, poor, unsuspecting Don.

If only there was something I could do, Lea thought desperately. Some way to stop Catherine.

But Lea was helpless. A helpless bystander.

“You were there,” Don said. “It must have been horrible for you.”

They were still standing awkwardly in the entranceway. Don had his hands jammed into his jeans pockets.

“Yes, it was,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I—I don't think I'll ever get over it.”

“I feel really alone now,” Don confessed, raising one hand to scratch the top of his curly brown hair.

“Well, you shouldn't feel alone,” Lea said meaningfully.

Don stared back at her for a long moment. Then his mouth dropped open as he suddenly remembered something. “The chicken! My mom went out. I promised her I'd turn off the oven.”

He turned and hurried to the kitchen.

As soon as he was out of sight, Lea reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the length of twine. She held it between her hands, untangling it.

“Catherine—what are you going to do?” Lea demanded.

No reply.

Lea felt her body begin walking toward the kitchen.

“Catherine—stop. What are you going to do?”

No reply.

Walking silently, Lea crept into the kitchen. She stepped quickly behind Don, who had his back turned. He was bending over the open oven, checking the chicken.

She pulled the rope taut and began to raise it over Don's head.

With a silent gasp of horror Lea realized that she was about to strangle Don.