10: Part One: Haunted House

Lost

Saturday, November 1st. 5:49 pm.

I walk back to the house alone, refusing a ride from the chief of police despite the snow falling heavier by the second. There isn't any wind, and the cold does nothing to cool down the burning rage I feel against Alex's father. I still can't believe he thought I was using my sister's disappearance as some sick prank. And fuck those assholes for making him believe I was a part of their stupid prank-calling idea. I mean what the actual crap were they thinking?

"Just wait until I find those little pests," I growl out my bitterness. "And take a drive around town my ass, Chief Larson. You only said that to make me leave."

I haul out my phone to call Alex right away, but the call never goes through. I can't even leave a message anymore. Strange, I figure maybe he turned his phone off, but that's unlike Alex to do. I shoot him a text message that never sends, which tells me his phone is indeed turned off. I run to his house, a bit winded from doing so, but proceed to knock on the front door. After a few moments of waiting, I'm beginning to think he won't answer. Heart pounding heavily in my chest, I try around back to his bedroom window where heavy curtains are drawn back. I make a snowball and throw it against the glass. Again, I wait for him to move towards the window and glance out where he'd find me and smile. Nothing of the sort happens. Nothing except his cat who's head briefly comes into view before turning its attention elsewhere.

I close my eyes and take shallow breaths, "Why aren't you answering, Alex?"

I stand there for a moment longer, eyes shut while leveling out my breathing. Not sure how long I was standing there, but eventually I give up. He must not be home. Suspicion leads me to think he's been out with those other fools who've been prank calling the police station. I shake my head not bothering to dwell on it. With seemingly everything frustrating me, I start heading back home. Halfway down the block, I start to feel a growing nausea as the right side of my head starts throbbing. No matter how hard I try to steady my breathing, the feeling doesn't diminish. I hold my head while mentally telling myself it's just a few more houses and I'll be home, just a few more steps. But it does nothing to lessen the panic growing in my chest once I realize what is happening.

Every breath out of me is shallow as I start to shake and tremble without warning. I stagger forward just sheer feet from our front door and collapse in the snow seconds after. My body, moments before had felt like it had been set on fire, but that's nothing compared to the shockwave that stuns all the nerves in my skin like an electric jolt when bare skin collides against freezing snow. The shock causing my fingers to curl into my palms without control. I try to move them, but my efforts are pointless. I've never experienced an episode during the winter, never, and the shock from the cold feels almost heavenly against the sickening uncontrollable heat festering beneath my flesh. If I wasn't for the that and abdominal pain, I may be able to enjoy the sensation. I always thought it was something to do with being in the heat too long so I would constantly avoid being out in the midday sun. Now I couldn't be any further in the dark. I stop caring about where I am and what I'd been doing as thoughts shift quickly, hoping that this episode or whatever it was would pass soon. That the pain would leave just as quickly as it came. I roll onto my side, letting the cold smother me as I wait for this to pass.

My legs, my arms, every part of me feels so incredibly heavy. I keep my eyes shut while I focus on my breathing. Time seems to stop as I lay motionless in the snow with the world continuing around me. I feel every cold and wet touch of a snowflake landing on my face, on my arms and legs. A gentle wind blows strands of my hair across my face, a sensation that would normally tickle my nose, but now it only feels…numb like when your foot falls asleep and you can't feel your own touch against the skin. I feel the clash of cold against my face suddenly becoming aware of it, and then the tingling sensation sets in leaving pins and needles sweeping across my skin. It always starts the same way, with my face, my fingers and toes before working its way through the rest of my body until I'm consumed by a tingly numbness. At this point, I know that it'll be over soon. I know I won't die. Its strange to think like that, I should know. I've always found it strange that my mind would always come to that exact thought after every episode. But never have I had two episodes in one year. As far as I can remember, they usually happen years apart, and I'm usually always alone when they happen.

The pain in my stomach dips, and the feeling to vomit or worse slowly lessens. That sickening heat also starts to disperse and fade as the numbness takes hold of me. I can't even feel my tongue against my teeth. Soon the pain will leave too as it always does. Warmth settles over my skin, somewhere close, maybe my arm but I can't quite tell. And then I feel a softness of warmth on my cheek, but I can't open my eyes. My eyelids feel so heavy, and my senses are so null from the shock from the cold and tingling sensation that I doubt the warmth is even real. Or maybe I'm recovering quicker than I imagine.

A weak sense of panic surges through me when the ground beneath me disperses, leaving me weightless and confused. I try to speak at first when the warmth starts to shape a cocoon around me, but after realizing I lack the energy to make a clear sentence, I open my eyes instead. At least I try too. It takes all me to force open my eye lids only to glimpse at a foggy play between shadows and dim lights stirring above me. The world is a haze, turning dark and obscure. I can barely turn let alone life my head to recognize anything at all or what is happening. I feel almost like a ragdoll slowly regaining a sense of where their limbs lied. Then it dawns on me that I'm being carried. A scent so familiar washes over me then, but I have no idea where I could possibly know it from. Something about it almost reminds me of my early childhood. It's almost…earthy, wet like…like spring water mixing with the plants that smell both sweet and bitter. I picture a wet dreary day with mist blanketing the hillsides of our town. The smell alone always reminded me of a fish tank or the soot near the creek where the cattails grow. But it wasn't entirely like that smell either. It was almost, but different. I breath it in deeply, letting it settle over in my lungs. The crisp air only masks the smell and doesn't at all make me feel ill after smelling it. It's a rare comfort that makes me feel steady.

Whatever haze clouding my vision continues to darken as the cold is cut away, leaving only the warmth that now feels smothering. And immediately I start to feel sick again. The scent is stronger now, sharply masculine which I hadn't noticed before. Both the heat and scent start to overwhelm me though, and more than anything I wish to curl back up in the snow, despite the numbness it had helped cause. I can't hear their footfall, only the sound of my rapid heartbeat pounding desperately in my chest, echoing like drumbeats in my ears, but I know that I'm being held by someone.

I voice my discomfort, but only a weak whimper escapes from my throat. Their hold on me stiffens and for some reason, I picture Alex to be the one who's carrying me. It starts as a mere foolish thought, but the same thought starts to comfort me. I manage to voice out his name regardless of how low it comes out, "Alex..."

Whether he heard it or not never shows, but eventually I hear the familiar creak of my door opening, feeling my senses returning to me steadily. I make a poor attempt to push away and swivel my legs off his hold, but he only brings me in closer. Just enough to keep me still. Before long, he lowers me down on my bed. The feeling is not as blissful as the feeling of the snow outside, but it still feels better than the heat of his body wrapped around mind. The room is too dark to discern anything, or to conform that I'm back in my room. I'm too tired to call out Alex's name again, so I let myself sink into the bed waiting to feel remotely better.

Blankets are drawn over me without much of a warning, interrupting my only contentment. It only draws out a bitter groan from me as I struggle to push them off.

Somehow, I manage to whisper, "No..." The heat is not helping. The blankets are pulled away just as quickly as they were thrown on. I stop struggling right after and lay there with my rasping breathing in rhythm with my heart. Soon...It'll all be alright again. I'll be better again. I'll be…

When I open my eyes again, the room is still dark. Slowly I realize where I am and what's missing from my face. I feel as far as my arms are willing to reach thinking I must have taken them off before laying down...wait, no... is Alex still here?

I manage to turn over towards my nightstand and turn on my light. It does little to help me see as my view of the room is an intense blur. As I reach to find my glasses, I see something dark move closer to my bed. It startles me right away, and then I hear that familiar yowl a cat makes when they try to gain your attention. A blossoming confusion takes root as I try to piece together how a cat could have gotten inside the house. It couldn't be the same cat from the library, unless Eva-

The hazy dark outside of the cat heightens as if it were standing on its hind legs before leaning closer to my nightstand. Something relatively different from a paw sprawls across the table, while another handlike limb sets something down. In slow movement, the cat sits back down on the floor. Hesitantly I reach for whatever was placed and caress the familiar mold of glass lenses. A strange feeling brings goosebumps all over my skin, not quite comprehending what I had just witnessed without being able to see clearly. Swallowing thickly, I place my glasses over my eyes only to halt all movement once I can see what has been sitting right in front of me this entire time. To my horror, the black cat is not the green-eyed feline that followed Alex and I down Brickfield Road, but the deformed creature at the library.

It yowls again, sounding exactly like the cat it is mimicking, causing me to scream. I jolt away from the edge of my bed and whip around ready to grab something to defend myself with when I come face to face with a horrid smiling green mask. It only takes seconds for me to realize the figure hunched down beside my bed. I don't hesitate this time to run. I scramble out of bed, not giving the disfigured cat a second thought, only to trip over the shaggy creature. Twisting myself around, I snatch a glance at the boy wearing that twisted mask as he stands to his full height. I hear a muffled voice come from the masked boy before he leans closer with an outstretched hand to crawl over my bed. I scream at him, "No-no! Get away from me!" and make my escape down the hall. I hear his feral stomping close behind as I flee down the steps. He is yelling something that I don't understand nor care to stick around to hear again. I feel a rush of air behind me before hearing the heavy thump of his body thrown over the guard rail above.

What the...

Christ, he jumped the damn steps?

I race around the living room coffee table and couch, letting the adrenalin course through me as I make it into the kitchen before he could stop me. I pull a knife from its holder just as the masked boy leaps through the window separating the kitchen and our living room. He lands on all fours only to stop short as I point the knife at him in a threatening manner, "Come any closer and I'll gut you! I swear to god!"

Slowly he goes to stand in an almost predatory way that makes every nerve in my body seize. I snap myself out of it and yell at him, "Stop moving!"

He comes to a halt with his back hunched over and his hands up around his face. I stare at him ghostly perplexed. Long strands of curled and unkempt hair outline his mask along with two short devil horns resting on top of his head. Narrow ears prod out from the tangles of his hair, something just as striking as the devil horns that remind me of the ears of a deer. The masked boy's bare chest and arms in the light are an ashy gray so bizarre it sends me into a spiral trying to comprehend what is going on. He's dressed in nothing, but a worn cloth made of different clothing wrapped around his slender waist. With the knife trembling in my hands, I tell him in a rigid tone, "Take off your mask."

He still does not move. "Take it off!" I yell this time and he flinches at my command. And he obeys.

Slowly he reaches behind his head, guiding the strap over his skull and devil horns before letting the mask fall off his face. His gaze causes me to take a few larger steps back as the memory dawns on me all too quickly. The same red eyes from the one I'd seen upstairs in the grey house are now staring back at me, just as wide and rattled from before, yet now seem to hold a feral sense of inhuman to them. As if he were an animal. Hell, he couldn't have been human, not when his eyes are glowing like that.

I can't stop the gasp that leaves my lips, "You're the boy from that house I saw upstairs." It wasn't a question, nor did he seem shocked by my discovery. He even has the same skin color as I speculated before. It wasn't a hallucination. "You were outside my window hiding behind the tree too."

He doesn't respond and the wide-eyed look never falters from his face. I shiver again, feeling my heartbeat rattling fearfully in my bones, a nervous hum surging through my veins. His static behavior reminds me all too well of a fight or flight kind of gaze, one that surely isn't helping my situation.

I swallow my fear and adjust my grip on the knife still pointing at him, flicking my attention down at the dull blade for a sheer second, hoping that hell I wouldn't have to use it. Then, snatching my gaze away from the knife, I narrow my eyes at him. "Who the hell are you and how did you get inside my house?"

The masked boy is silent and still. The only indication of understanding he expresses is maintaining eye contact with me. I am starting to think he can't speak at all. But I swear he was talking to himself up in that house... Not to forget he said something before while chasing me down the steps. I could not understand what he said then, and I still don't have a clue, but I'm sure he yelled something through that mask. It was muffled, but he shouted it.

Even glancing away for that split second, the masked boy hadn't moved. Still, I refuse to pull my eyes away again. Maybe yelling at him won't give me any answers. I am about to try another method of communication when he surprises me by calmly saying, "I don't like being threatened."

His gaze narrows and I realize he is staring at the knife in my hand. I huff, "Well I don't like strange psychotic boys chasing me inside my own house. Did Jared put you up to this as payback for what happened at the grey house, or was this the entire prank all along? To scare me so badly in my own house and make it look like my sister ran away?"

"I wasn't chasing you," is all he says. I grip the knife harder, not having any of this.

"The hell you weren't! Now this little crappy game or prank or whatever the hell you all executed isn't funny anymore."

The confusion in his eyes only infuriates me further, then he tells me something I dread hearing, "I didn't come here because of a game. You collapsed in the snow and your heart was beating slowly, so I carried you inside," he explains.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your heart's beat had changed from the time you left and when you came back-"

"You've been following me this whole time?"

"You smell sickly. It's how I found which room was yours after bringing you inside."

Now it's my turn to look confused because what he was saying made no sense. I lower the knife just barely, taking in his statement piece by piece, yet it only brought on more questions. Questions that also didn't make sense even when I thought of them twice in my head. Yet even when I announce those questions aloud, they never come out the way I had originally thought them. "You can smell me? Like an animal?"

The masked boy only gives a small nod and nothing else. I grit my teeth, nearly fuming. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? No one has a blood-hound-level sense of smell." I steady the knife, returning to the grip I had on it before. "And If I was so sickly then why didn't you leave me on the couch and call 911 like any normal person would?"

His brows furrow like he seems confused. "…I don't know what that is."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you'd feel more comfortable being in your bed," he admits softly.

Before I can even react to that, a scurrying of little feet scampers into the kitchen causing me to stagger back as the black creature from before leaps onto the table with a haunting hiss. The sudden startle causes me to scream while swinging the knife impulsively at the wicked thing.

"Wait! Don't hurt him!" The masked boy cries out and grabs the disfigured cat before my knife could make a single blow. "He's only being protective! He won't hurt you!"

"What the hell is that thing?" I shriek.

"He's not a thing! He is my friend!"

Another scatter of feet scurry around the kitchen table and a white body of a creature leaps onto the counter beside the sink. Two X's are stitched where its eyes should be and an upside-down Y maw screeches at me. I swing the knife at it just before something light and boney jumps onto my shoulder causing me to scream. Screams arise all over so loud it causes a painful ringing in my ear. The knife slips from my hand as I quickly cover my ears, holding my head and shutting my eyes tight. The boney figure dodges my hands without much effort, sounding like it collided with the cupboards lined against the ceiling.

The screaming suddenly then stops leaving only the sharp whistling that only echoes in my head. Still holding my skull, I gradually open my eyes. The masked boy is standing inches from my face now, looking almost concerned, but that can't be true. This can't be happening...

My gaze suddenly drops to the knife still on the floor near the table leg closest to me. He must have followed my gaze because it's quickly knocked away from my reach by something long and dark. I have no time to process what it was as in that same instant, before he can stop me, I dart towards the bathroom. With one twist of the lock after slamming the door shut, I sink into the tub and allow myself to cry as oceans of emotions pour out of me like a tidal wave. I keep my hands against my ears still hearing a sharp whistling sound that grows more painful the longer I cry out. I can't stop it. I don't hear the masked boy running up to the door or even pounding his fists against it like I half expected him to do. There is only the ringing clashing against my whimpering cries. I try to settle my breathing, I really try, but horribly thoughts came racing through my head, both memories and other worries. Then I hear the softest tone of his voice speak on the other side of the door. It's a tone one would hear from a child, and it did nothing but make me freeze in fear. My heart lurches forward as I stare at the door.

"I'm sorry, I never meant to scare you at all," he says. "…t-that wasn't supposed to happen. They didn't mean it either. It's just in their nature to protect one of their own."

I keep hold of my head; my eyes are still pinned to the door while trying to control my sobbing. What the hell was that? His voice had changed to a child-how was that possible? There is a long pause before I hear the masked boy talk again, filling me with even more dread.

"I know what took your sister," he whispers, this time sounding like he had before.

My blood freezes from the words. Not a who, but at what. All speculation of this being another prank suddenly falters, as another fearful thought of my sister actually having gone missing settles like a painful lump at the bottom of my stomach. It hurts so bad I start feeling nauseous when more dreadful thoughts ease their way into my head. What did he mean by that? I bite hard on the inside of my cheek until I taste that familiar metallic tang and flinch. Why would he say something so cruel to me? Is this part of the joke? ...or is he telling the truth? Don't be a fool, Shae...

"Nothing took my sister," I force the words out through clenched teeth. "She's with the rest of you cruel idiots. Just leave me alone. You've had your fun."

"Fun? How is that fun? This is not a game. Your sister is in danger, but I can help bring her back."

"What part of leaving me alone don't you understand?" I growl and grip the sides of each arm tightly. There is no use in yelling anymore. I seethe through my teeth, "tell Jared I'm done with these tricks and stupid jokes and get the hell out. I never want to see any of you again." I should have known Eva was a part of this from the start. For all the times I have tormented her and frightened her, it is well deserved. So why does it feel so unbearable? It's just another prank. Just another scare. So what if it worked? I should be impressed, not… she's fine. Everything is fine. Right?

"This is not a trick I would play on anyone," he growls deeply in his throat, sounding more inhuman than before. Another shiver dances over my skin and I should be afraid, but anger is molten heat that pools from my core, extending to every end of my body as a cruel laugh breaks free in my throat sounding hoarse and raw.

"Get out."

"You aren't listening." He answers sounding just as heated and quite bothered. Then his tone changes to being soft again when I hear his next words, "I have proof."

I scoff at that, having nothing else to say to him. A part of me is tempted to whip open the door and strike him in the face just as I used to get into fights when I was younger. He may have succeeded in scaring me, but that doesn't mean he will in a fight against me.

"The Face Stealer took your sister because she is drawn to children who feel abandoned or have no one."

Another raw laugh leaves me. I can't believe what I am hearing. "That's even more ridiculous than you claiming to have a heightened scene of smell. Eva and I have each other, and I'd know if there were something wrong. Especially if she ever felt abandoned, she would talk to me. She's always come to me." Even hearing it come out in my voice sounds very much like a lie. I quickly force the doubt away selfishly just like I've done countless times. If there were something bothering my sister, she would have talked to me, even after a fight. We've always made up. Always… I never would have thought Eva would pull something so horrible out on me. But then again, have I ever been a good sister to her since…

"You had a fight, and you said things to her that hurt," he adds, drawing me back to his annoying presence waiting behind the door. His words catch me by surprise. How long had he been watching me? Watching us? "It wouldn't have been hard for the Face Stealer to convince your sister to follow her into her world."

I sniffle angrily and wipe my face, "What are you talking about?"

"You would have had dreams that felt so real it would have scared you the night she came for your sister. It's how you'd know she's close by."

Dreams? The only lingering dream I've had that scared me involved him and that god-awful room. And the only person I clearly remember talking about that dream to was Alex. He wouldn't have told anyone else about it either. Alex wasn't much of a chatterbox, and we've held many secrets with one another, fears, and dreams alike. Alex is my friend. He isn't like Jared or any of those idiots. He wouldn't have told anyone… But he did have a friend outside of town, a girl I knew nothing about, and I had asked someone about the name Timothy Nelson not too long after he asked me if I knew them. What kind of friend did that make me lately?

"What kind of dreams?" I ask quietly after a long moment of silence.

He doesn't hesitate, "The kind of dreams that make you lose time, where it feels like you've blinked away the daylight and stare into the night sky. She uses memories, things that scare you or moments in time that made you happy or made you feel safe."

My mother's rhythmic hymn, her soothing perfume mixing with the October air, and her hand brushing away strands of my hair only to rest against my cheek to kiss me goodnight. It felt so real at the time, but it also felt strangely like an old memory. A memory seemingly out of place. Thinking back to it now, it feels wrong. I ponder back to when she pulled the blankets over me and then woke up with them still there. I cannot for the life of me remember grabbing the blankets myself. They were nowhere near the bed, and I only had a sheet over the mattress when I laid down. Uncertainty and fear creep their way into my mind when I cannot make sense of what took place last night. Soon a feeling of dread as heavy as the anger I had felt before now smothers me when no logical explanation comes to mind that would explain any of this. Only the boy's words, as ridiculous as they sound, hold a weight I cannot surpass, something I wish was only a nightmare I could wake up from. Eva wouldn't have done it, because she's never done anything like that for me despite the countless nights I've spent holding her whenever she stirred from a nightmare and came running into my room with puffy eyes and a wet face. And I highly doubt she would have draped a blanket over me after our fight. No one else was in the house that night. No one…

Gathering my thoughts to calm down seems pointless because the fear of my sister being taken by something that wasn't human probably was more terrifying than discovering that she simply ran off. And to where? I have no idea. I pick myself up off the floor and turn to face the door. Even with the knowledge of his words still in a haze with my judgment, it almost feels like this could very well be another dream. I've had dreams that have been so real before, and others so bizarre they left me dazed when I woke up. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming or not.

I take a step closer to the door, reaching for the knob only to rest my palm there against the cool steel surface. "What proof do you have that something took my sister?"

"Besides the dreams?" He pauses. "I'd have to show you, but you can't hurt them, or me, please."

My brows knit closely, puzzled by his words. After a long pause from myself, I slowly start to unlock the bathroom door. I waver to open it, pondering on my next words, "If what you're saying is even remotely true..." I pause to bite my lip. Now I sound ridiculous believing his story. I sigh not knowing what else to do, "This isn't one of Jared's pranks?"

"I told you before I do not play tricks like this on anyone. I can take you to find your sister and help bring her back before the whole town forgets who she is just like they've forgotten many others."