The Voices that Call Out

I dashed through the large threshold of the plantation, my sneakers slapping against the polished, hardwood floors. I stopped still just in front of what must be the concierge desk and gazed all around me. The last time I had stood in this lavish foyer was the night of my senior prom. That night, it had appeared  vibrant and happy, but now the faces in the oil paintings on the walls seemed sallow and angry. To say the silence was unsettling would be an understatement of great magnitude.

"Drake? Lydia?" I called out, my voice shaking. I instantly wished I had kept my mouth shut for fear that a black-eyed figure would emerge from one of the many, ornate corridors. I heard footsteps coming from above. I couldn't decide whether to turn and dash back out the door, or brace myself to fight.

Step, step, step.

Boom, boom, boom.

The footsteps and my heartbeat seemed to be in rhythm with one another. It sounded like a dirge.

Much to my relief, the figure that came walking around the banister was familiar. It was Drake.

I couldn't help but be overjoyed at the sight of another person and I flung myself on him in relief. His shirt was soft and his warmth and musk sent a wave of security shooting through my body. Malcolm had always been a bit whiny, Drake was the kind of man who could protect you.

I pulled back, embarrassed, and looked into his eyes. They were still vibrant and aqua, not a hint of black aside from his pupils.

"Where's Lydia?" I questioned, searching around for the mysterious woman.

"She's up in the suite meditating. She said she needed to prepare before she could speak with you tonight," Drake informed me.

"Speak with me about what, exactly?" I asked, with the slightest tone of irritation in my voice. This was not the time to beat around the bush. The whole town had gone to hell and everyone was either dead, missing, or running around with those blacked out eyes.

Drake only gave me a deadpan look and beckoned for me to follow him up the stairs. He led me around the banister and into a gaudily-decorated hallway, adorned with patterned curtains and large, still-life paintings. The plush carpeting felt nice on my feet and I had to remind myself that this was no time to let my guard down. We finally came to a large, oak door with two golden handles. Drake went to open it, but first turned back to me and gazed very seriously into her eyes.

"You need to believe what she tells you."

With that, he turned the handle delicately and coaxed the door open so that it would not make even the slightest creak. I trailed in behind him to see Lydia kneeling on the floor, holding a match up to a candle. Books lay strewn around her and a sitting groove had been worked into a throw pillow laying in the center of the clutter.

"I told him you hadn't died," She informed me without casting a glance in our direction. "Now, come and sit. We don't have much time."

I took her brief instructions and crawled down onto the red, velvet carpet across from her. She returned to her perch in her chair and though her icy-blue stare met my gaze, I could tell that she was seeing somewhere else, far-off.

"I have always been the way I am," She began.

"My earliest memories are sitting by myself... and then they would come to me. Some were weary... Some were scared... Some were just angry at the world.

 "My poor mother struggled with me so much. She insisted to me that I stop playing my little games, that I was growing too old for imaginary friends... As if I could have imagined such things. She would pass by my bedroom sometimes, and see me whispering to the dust in the air.

 "I don't think she ever truly believed me until one early morning, as we sat eating our breakfast, I asked her, 'Mommy, grandmother wants to know why you're still smoking.'

'Grandmother is gone sweetheart. She passed away, remember?' She soothed me, believing it was just my own way of grieving.

'I know, mommy,' I told her. 'But she says you promised her before she died that you would quit smoking and she wants to know why you haven't,' I explained as if she were an idiot for not understanding.

'Did she?' My father asked her, puzzled.

'Yes, but...' My mother stammered. 'I never told her that,' she breathed, looking at me with fear in her eyes.

"That's when she knew what I had accepted as truth what I had always known. The visitors in my room were no figments of my imagination. The whispers from beyond my walls were not mere warning signs of mental illness.

"I was, and still am, a medium."

I've Heard Enough

     The streets were empty. Not like the usual late at night drive with one or two other cars on the road. Empty. I was in the heart of Twinbrook and I did not see one other car on the road. There were no people on the sidewalks. I had never minded having some alone-time, but the silence of the dead streets unnerved me to my core.

 As I rounded the corner to Main Street, I saw that no one stood in front of the movie theater and as far as my eyes could see, the road stretched on undisturbed. I glanced over at the old salon. All of the lights were out, the closed sign was plastered to the door, and there was truly nothing remarkable about the building, yet a cold chill snaked its way down my spine as I gazed at it. I swear, the figure came out of nowhere.

I slowed down and scrutinized the image behind me. It was a woman, cast in shadows. I knew she had not been there when I first passed by. I bit down on my tongue out of sheer anxiety as I pulled the car to a halt. I had to get answers.

 I threw it into reverse and pulled the car right up on the sidewalk. I sure as hell didn't want to be far from my ride. I brandished Bailey's gun in one hand (no one needed to know it was empty) and Therese's crucifix in the other, gripped in my palm out of sight.

As I stepped around the edge of my old van, I was greeted by the striking image of a statuesque woman, who looked quite chic in contrast to myself, adorned in stretch pants and a simple tube top. She was the woman who bought the beauty shop. The same one that had moved into the creepy old Tolliver place. We stood, discerning each other for a moment. I couldn't quite make out the expression on her face, but if I had to guess, I would have said she was amused.

 "I know you," She broke the silence. "You're the Lawson girl. You never did make it back for your appointment."

"Yeah... Well, I kind of had other things on my mind," I snapped at her. "Do you know what in the hell's going on around here? It's like everybody in the whole damn town just up and left." None of it made sense. This was proving to be one of the most horrific nights of my life. Although I'd been left with no choice, I'd already killed two people, and that grin on her face made me feel like I might be ready for number three.

"I can assure you," she crooned. "No one, has left."

"That's it," I snarled, gripping both my gun and my crucifix tighter. "Take off your glasses. Show me your goddamn eyes."

"Oh, alright. I'll play along," She spoke to me as if I were a child. "But surely, dear, you don't think I'm one of them?" She teased, lifting her fingers to rest delicately on the frames of her glasses.

"Only one way to find out," I insisted.

As the cool black rims fell away, I immediately knew I'd gotten more than I'd bargained for.

 "No, silly girl. They are all mine," she breathed into the crisp night air. There were to black orbs of nothing where her eyes belonged. She was hallow inside, like an old tree left to rot.

I'd heard all I needed to here.

 I was on her. I let out a primal scream, flung the empty gun down on the ground, and bore the cross into her face with both of my hands. She gasped and snarled and shrieked, but I didn't let up. I stayed on her with the intent that only one of us would walk away from the encounter.

                                        

 "Get down on the ground you fucking bitch!" I bellowed at her as I pressed the necklace deep into the tender skin of her cheek, rubbing it all around as if I meant to burn off her entire face. An animalistic rage overcame me and I forgot myself. All I cared about was ending this miserable, abomination of a  creature's existence.

 Her resistance grew weaker and weaker and my rage seemed to melt away along with her life force. I eased the pressure on her face as her legs gave in and she collapsed to the ground. Her face had not in fact smoked like Jeannine's had, but her stony figure looked pretty damn dead to me.

 I scooped up my empty gun and piled in the car. I got a whole block before I peaked into the glass of my rearview mirror. Sure enough, there was no body on the sidewalk. She was gone.

I stomped harder on the gas since there didn't seem to be anyone around to give me any trouble over it. I soon realized that I had no idea where I was going. I slowed my acceleration just enough so that I could confidently operate my cheap cell phone and dial one of my contacts.

"Speak," I was surprised to hear Lydia's voice. This was supposed to be Drake's number.

"Lydia, it's Abigail," I panted out, relieved to be having a conversation with a normal (kind of) person. "Where's your brother, what's going-"

"It's still her," I heard her say to someone on the other end of the line. "You can speak to her now."

I heard the phone fumble around before Drake spoke, "Abigail, where the hell are you? We figured you were gone."

"Where the hell was I gonna go? I'm in town right now, where are you?" This was followed by a long pause in which I could hardly contain my thumping heart and my mounting anxiety.

"You need to get out of there right now, Abigail," He told me gravely. "We're at the Twelve Oaks Plantation. It's a about fifteen miles west of the city limits. You know it?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. They held my senior prom in the ballroom," I mused. "I'll be right there."

 The trip out to the old plantation seemed to drag on for a lifetime, but I just kept going. Not a moment went by when I wasn't going at least ten miles of the speed limit, and I certainly wasn't stuck in traffic, so that cut the time in half. I made it there in twenty minutes flat and on a better day, I might marvel at my own excellent driving skills.

I collected myself and my meager belongings and hopped out of the van. I padded across the soil leading up to the main house faster than a bolt of lightning. I raced towards the door as a drowning man races to the surface, eager to take my first breath in my only safe haven.

Escape from the Hell House

 "Here's what we're gonna do," I breathed in Therese's ear. She responded only with understanding silence. "He came in last night, so he's probably going to come in again. As soon as that door opens..."

I didn't understand why in two days, no one had noticed our absence or looked for us. Someone should have come knocking, riddled with concern and good intent and as close as the bathroom was to the front door, we would have heard it. It was true. No one had come for us.

 She seemed to accept my desperate plans. We waited there, prepared to act at any moment, for what felt like a span of years. When we finally heard the faint thumping of footsteps on the other side of the door, I tensed up and moved closer to the wall. I had no intention of dying here, but what I was bracing myself to do could very well end up killing me.

                                  

The creak of the door was drowned out by Therese's shriek as soon as Bailey's figure appeared in the doorway.

 As he switched his gaze to his shouting wife, I lunged on him from behind. My hands wrapped around his torso. My fingers grazed the cool steel of the gun as I summoned all of my strength to attempt to wrench it from his grip. He zoomed back and slammed me against the door, causing me to grunt and sink down to the floor.

 I gripped his ankle and pulled him down to my level. Before he could do anything I was on top of him, scratching, clawing, kicking, biting... It came to a point where I was not truly even there anymore. My primal instincts took over with one focus: getting the hell out of that house.

BANG!

 I recovered from the shock of the stray gunshot before Bailey and took the opportunity to pry it from his hands. I was on my feet in an instant with the gun in his face. I thought I heard a pitiful noise escape his throat, but I soon realized that the sound had come from a different direction.

 I couldn't turn around to look. I remained focuses on Bailey, but I knew that behind me, Therese was on the ground moaning in agony. The stray bullet that escaped in the middle of our struggle had found its way to Therese and I knew in my heart from that awful sound that she would die.

 "Yes... Do what you love most, whore," Bailey spat at me as he positioned himself on his knees, inching closer to my gun. "Take me... Kill me... That's all your good for..."

I knew what I should do, but still I wavered. He was my brother. Not my favorite person in the world, but my brother. How could I-

"KILL ME! KILL ME YOU EVIL BITCH! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!"

BANG!

 "THERE I FUCKING DID IT!" I wailed. I certainly had done it, and apparently my aim had been pretty damn good. What had once been my brother's head was now reduced to a pile of red glop strewn across the tile floor. Bailey's blood glistened in the fluorescent lighting as the puddle of red continued to grow larger.

 I sank to the floor in tears. Therese's already dead body laid on my left and my brother's corpse was on my right. I noticed that Therese's cold hand was reaching out for her dead husband, just barely grazing his shin with its icy fingers. That's when I heard a sound on the other side of the door. Someone else was in the house.

 A girl in an ivory nightdress stained with blood stalked through the doorway. I immediately recognized Jeannine, even spattered with gore.

"Oh Jesus," I gasped, lurching to my feet. "Jeannie, shit, we've gotta get you to a hospital... Come on let's go!" I made a move towards her to try to keep her from viewing anymore of the gruesome scene.

 

Her knees buckled down into a primal, tertiary position and a snake-like hiss passed through her teeth. I saw the eyes. Those dead, gleaming, red eyes. In an instant I had the gun in her face.

Click. Click. Click. No ammo.

It's funny how well your memory can work when your life depends on it. I remembered what Therese said about her encounter and I threw myself on her body and yanked her crucifix necklace from around her dead throat.

 

 I whirled around and saw the creature prepared to lunge at me. I gripped the cross in my palm and slammed it into her forehead. She hissed, spat, and screamed as I pressed it deeper and deeper, burning her flesh to the bone.

 

 Her body hit the floor with a thump. It was sickening to watch her writhe around, gripping her burning face. It seemed that she was in the throes of death (again) so I shoved her out of the way with my foot and dashed through the door I had longed to pass through for two days.

I passed by a large chest that had previously been used to barricade the door. I saw a black square sitting on the edge out of the corner of my eye and scooped up my cell phone without skipping a beat. I wasted no time reaching the large double doors, gripping the gold handles, and dashing out into the night.

 A gust of cool night air met me at the threshold of that hell-house. For the first time in days natural air swam through my nostrils and into my open mouth. It was more refreshing than any drink of water I'd ever tasted. I became acutely aware of the stench of death lingering on my borrowed sweater and I ripped it off. The cool, October air felt like the touch of an angel on my bare arms and shoulders.

I dashed to my car, threw myself in, retrieved the key from my pocket, dug it into the ignition, and I was off.

I didn't look back.

Not once.

You'll Be the Death of Me

 "UGH!" I yelled as pain shot through the right side of my body. I was trying (unsuccessfully) to break down the bathroom door. "Jesus Christ!" I panted as I pulled away from it, clutching my shoulder. "He  must've put something on the other side." I should've known that no brother of mine, as crazy as he may be, would be stupid enough to think a locked door could stop two grown women. If I could have possibly been out of here by now, I would have. It had already been a day, so I had already missed my meeting with Drake and Lydia. My chances at getting any answers were growing slimmer by the minute.

Therese said nothing in reply.

 Behind me, she was hunched over on the floor weeping. I knelt down beside her and stroked her back in an attempt to comfort her. She responded only by going rigid and recoiling from my touch.

"Look, we're gonna get out of here, alright? He can't just keep us in here forever," I soothed her, although the words were also for my benefit. In all honesty, my insides were bound up in a knot and, in my head, I was making my peace with God.

 "He can if we're dead," she whispered.

 

The door swung open just as she finished her sentence. Bailey offered no explanation as he stepped in, brandishing his gun and carrying a tray with several empty glasses on it. I could smell the alcohol rolling off of him. A single glass filled with a crimson substance caught my eye. It looked like red wine but... gloppier... thicker...

 Bailey moved me aside with the hand in the gun with it and moved closer to Therese who was now on the floor, trying to scoot away from the man who was once her loving husband. He knelt down and gently set the glass filled with the red substance next to her. In a flash, the rest of the tray crashed against the wall and glass shards rained down on the floor.

 "You earned your kill, demon," He spat at her. "Enjoy it. It's the last you'll ever taste."

I began to gasp, "Is that-"

 "Blood. Yes. Don't act like you don't know, hell-spawn. Don't act like you're not dying for a taste." He scolded me before returning his attention to Therese. "Stand up and drink so I can see."

 "Bailey, please," She whimpered, struggling to her feet. "It's me, baby, please. please-"

"DRINK IT, BITCH!" He bellowed, pointing the gun straight at her face.

Through her tears, she obliged and pressed the glass to her lips. She gripped it with both hands and moved it slightly back so that I could see the red liquid passing over onto her tongue. After only a second, she gagged violently and lost her grip on the glass. It made a crashing sound on impact that caused the poor, shaken woman to shudder.

"EVERY LAST DROP!" He hurled at her as he knocked her down to the floor as if to rub her nose in her mess like a dog. Before I could resist, he was on me. Holding me steady. Forcing me to watch as my sister-in-law lapped up her own daughter's blood off of the cold, tile floor. She knelt down and flicked her tongue through the death puddle. I could hear her sobbing and gagging with every movement.

"Get off me you son of a bitch!" I shrieked as I elbowed Bailey in the ribs. He let go with a grunt. I whirled around and once again, my face went the butt of his gun. I sprawled out across the floor, not unconscious, but stunned and dazed. 

"None for you tonight you greedy, whore," He hissed at me.

 I barely registered him leave the room as I attempted to get myself together. I glanced over at Therese who was now in full-blown melt down mode on the floor.

 I inched over to her, never quite able to completely stand up, and pulled her into a hug. We were all we had, and if we didn't figure out something soon, we'd have nothing.

Down the Rabbit Hole

My eyes flickered open. They shut again. They opened once more and I was awake. A wet rag hanging from a large sink dripped water onto my right hand. The white ceiling loomed over me as I grappled without my disorientation. Then I remembered. It was Bailey. The last thing I could remember he was babbling some psycho-nonsense and then... That's right. He had bashed me in the head with a pistol. What the hell was going on?

I didn't feel the throbbing pain in my head until I tried to sit up with a grunt of pain. I pressed my fingers to the side of my head and felt blood matted in my hair. It didn't really get on my face, but if I made it out of here I might have permanent staining in my hair. I reached for the sink, gripped the side of it for support, and pried myself off of the floor. I registered that I was in the bathroom as I hobbled towards the door. Of course. It was locked.

I turned around and jumped at the sight of a silent figure on the floor. Therese was facing away from me on the floor staring at nothing. I cautiously approached her, afraid she'd lost it, too, and quietly called, "Therese? What's going on?"

I went to stand beside her and she scuttled away from me to the other side of the room, not looking me in the eyes. I took a seat on the toilet across from her and just stared at her. The purple marks on her arms told me she had not come here by her own free will, either.

"Therese," I whispered calmingly. "Please tell me what's going on. What's the matter with Bailey?"

She turned her eyes to me and just stared. No expression, nothing to tell me she was even alive other than her intense focus.

"Listen to me good. Because I can't tell this story twice."

"Me and Bailey had just come home from the movies. Your car was still gone and we were gonna call you once we got inside. When we started for the steps... We saw it..." She paused as if trying to maintain her composure. "It was... a person. Or at least it was shaped like one... It was up on the balcony of Jeannine's room. The door was already opened and it was just... gliding through.

"Bailey ran in the steps ahead of me yelling 'Get the fuck away from my daughter,' and 'I'll kill your sorry pedophile ass.' I went inside after him and went up the steps to her room. By the time I got there, Bailey was just standing there... frozen in place with his gun. That... thing was on her. I can still see the blood all over that bed, and some ungodly fog was pouring in through the open door.

"When it started to get up off the bed Bailey was screaming, 'Get back fucker!' and shit like that. I glanced at Jeannine for a split second and I swear to god... That thing was right in front of us... It knocked Bailey straight on the ground. The gun went flying...

"For just a moment... I just stood looking at that thing... It was so dark, but its fucking eyes were glowing brighter than any goddamn light I ever saw. Then its hand was on my throat. I started to say a prayer... or maybe I was begging... I don't even know.

"But then something happened... Its hand had brushed my chest and then it hissed at me and crouched down like a big African cat or something... It slithered across the ground towards the balcony... It was making noise like it was hurt... I swear, Abby, the way that thing was moving... No person could move that way. It was like it had no bones.

"I looked down at my chest real quick to see what in the hell hurt it. I realized I was wearing my crucifix necklace. Y'know the one. With the emeralds. I called out, 'It's the devil! It's the devil! God help us!' and Bailey heard my voice and got up off the floor and scooped up his gun.

"I rushed over to the bed to see Jeannine... Abigail..." She stopped, tears streaming down her face, flowing in a line with her day-old mascara. "She was covered in blood. Her face looked like it had got the life sucked straight out of it... She had blood caked all around her mouth... I couldn't even touch my own baby... I threw up all over the floor.

"I collapsed on the floor, crying, and cursing god, and just going out of my damn mind. I yelled at Bailey, 'We got to call a fucking ambulance! Get me the phone!' But when I got up to run for the phone, he kept pushing my back down on the floor. 'What are you doing?' I cried. 'We gotta help her!'

"He screamed, 'WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU CRAZY STUPID BITCH? SHE'S FINE! YOU'RE GONNA WAKE HER UP WITH ALL YOUR FUCKING CRYING!' I knew he'd snapped right then. He started waving his gun around in my face and screaming... I don't even know what he was saying... none of it made any sense... But then he said, 'you're just a fucking devil bitch! You just wanna hurt her! You belong in hell!" and he started slapping me and then he grabbed my wrists, and I was fighting like a madwoman. I just wanted to help my baby... We fought all the way down the stairs and he tripped and fell... I ran for the front door. I had my hand on the knob... And then I felt his hand on my wrist again.

"And here we are now..."