Chapter SixMy heart beating in my chest I feel my stomach churn, my whole body overcoming with a wave of nausea as I fall to my knees. This is wrong, this is all so wrong! Th-this pce should be fucking deserted like the rest of the house, just a fucking relic, not a… I look up and into the remnants of my life… n-no not like it was, when I left I trashed my room, threw the cork board to the floor, maybe even stepping on it, the clothes on my bed I threw across the room trying to make as much damage as possible.

  This is just some fucked recreation as if I had never left that night, the pictures on the board just as I… no, not just as I left it, there was something new, I would know, I spent hours on it, putting up my favourite memories, the only differences should be the missing photos. Which creepily were still there. There is one photo, new, the gloss still fresh. I step beyond the threshold into my own tiny hell and press my head against it. Not wanting to, or daring to disturb it with any more light than was already coming from the hallway.

  The poroid image is dark but with my face against it I can just make it out, as well as the letters around the edges. ‘Welcome home Jane!’ Each letter is in a different color, celebrating my return, but the picture is far from joyous. The hollowed face of the one I called mother stares out from the picture, the life gone from her eyes, her mouth curled into a perpetual scream of pain. I stumble back into the corner of the door, feeling pain well up along with tears that dared to spill out with the thump as I hit the wood hard.

  I let out a quick moan of anguish as I try my best to control my breathing, “Argh! Fuck, o-okay, O-one, two, th-three, Jane, its just a prank or something, you don’t know what you saw, it’s, it’s a prank. Someone is fucking with you… I-if anyone it could be Angel, messing with you, you know how she didn’t have a real sense of humour… fuck b-but it doesn’t… make any sense.” Pushing my legs up against my body I let the tears out, more out of confusion than anything else, so many things going on that make no sense, getting to the pce on top of the house, just… I just want it to stop… fuck… but with so much work to do, how long am I going to have to stay in this fucking town?!

  My breathing ragged. I try to get myself in order, counting them and trying to put everything together the best I can, desperately wishing I had brought my notepad into the house with me. I curl my hands up in frustration and realising that I have a, not as soaked as before, pile of letters in one hand, let them drop to the floor. I stare at them, the smudged ink barely dried upon their surfaces, after it seemed to have combined all together in one crushed mush.

  I go to reach out, before holding back from them, not feeling a point to them… having enough to think about, much less putting together a puzzle of mushy proportions. But, what do I do now? Sit here forever, avoiding the memories of this pce? I pce my head into my hands at my knees, recoiling slightly at the wetness that I should have expected on one of them. I sigh deeply, letting the air flow out of my lungs before holding it, feeling the beating of my heart get quicker as my need for oxygen grows. I breath in horsley after what feels like minutes, no new ideas coming to mind.

  Bzzz

  My phone goes off in my pocket again and I decide now would be as good time as any to actually go through the messages, my brain still hurting slightly as I pull it out. The newest message reads, ‘please get back to me, just want to make sure you're safe, Tommy.’ I look up at the cork-board for a second before looking back down to my phone, it reminds me too much of her, the lingering thought of her still being there, over his shoulder, her eyes drilling into the screen as he types message after message at her discretion. He could never say no to a woman's demands, it seems nothing has changed.

  Wiping my eyes I try my best to type a message back, fumbling a few times before I manage to get something together, ‘I'm alive, is Angelica still there? Jane’. Within seconds it shows he has read and is starting to respond… then waiting, and waiting, it comes through and I scoff, ‘No.’. Yup she is… fuck Angel please just… ARGH! Is she just pying a fucking childish game with me? Should I just… burn down the house?… Well, I would need insurance first, but like… N-no, just, this could be so much easier if she wasn’t here to fuck with me on top of everything!

  I send another message in anger, ‘Tell Angelica to stay out of my way, thank you.’ I try to be polite as possible, well, as much as I can without outright telling her to fuck off. I throw my phone at my feet and watch it as it spins away across the floor, closer to the board than feels comfortable. I stand up, close my eyes in preparation and flick the light, making sure I breath in before glimpsing over my domain as I open them.

  If I saw the image of my room in a magazine, I would think, this child has everything, and is loved. Knowing what I do though, it is anything but. The few toys and things in this room were donated or scraped together with my own will power, doing odd jobs the older I got to be able to have bedding much less a real pillow to sleep on. For the three years before I turned eighteen I was just an inconvenience, and I learnt to stay away from where she could grab me, or push me down the stairs. To walk as quiet as I could while we existed in the same space, lest I break some rule that didn't exist before.

  I can still see the marks on the floor from where she missed with a broken pte, it shattering against the ground for daring to leave it uncleaned, despite not having eaten anything at home in days, the pieces of it cutting my legs as I sat there in fear that she would pick up one of the slices and stab me through the neck. I run my fingers along it, feeling it had no power over me, at least not in this moment, at least not while I knew that she was a rotting corpse in the ground.

  I move over to the bed, making sure to pick up my phone on the way, the clothes on top seem washed, I sit down as I go through them, all the clothes I left behind, some good and some bad memories between them. I pull one up and lean over, noticing a smell seeming to cover them, as well as something else. I look over to my desk and see a can of deodorant there, my favourite one as a kid, bubblegum strawberry, I take another smell of the clothes and realise it’s covering them, and on top of that is a slight smell of sweat, almost as if it was coming off my own body, just days ago as it started to dissipate. I feel that same nausea coming on again as I try my best not to think about it, the possibility that this room represents, dropping the clothes back in the pile.

  Getting up I make my way out of the room, feeling better until I look back, back at the board, where the poroid seems to mock me. I don't want to look at it in the light. I close the door behind me, desperate to not think about it, and needing to make another list. I make my way back down the stairs grateful that the amount of dust in the air has decreased, not having to remember to not take a deep breath, something less to think about. The marks in the dust I've made at the front of the door seem indented into it, I brush it off, knowing that I did have to fight the door to get it open, that it's just another thing to clean.

  I open the car and get inside, before staring once again at the house from the driveway, thankful that I was able to see it in the light instead of the dark, pretty sure that I would have thought it was haunted from just looking outside the pce, but instead I now know something worse is going on, something that I don’t entirely understand. I find the notepad and a pen, before checking over the progress of my st list and then starting a new one. I start easy, knowing there's at least one thing I might be able to get done today.

  House Checklist

  Get locks changed.Clean all surfaces of dust.Find a pce to sleep while getting the house together.Find someone to help you take care of the wn.Get someone to check out the house's plumbing.See how much it would cost to get the outside of the house cleaned.Donate any bad furniture.Find a company to price the house for selling.I finish the list, intending to come back to it. I’ve heard that houses are never so easy to deal with. I start up another one.

  Life Checklist

  Buy Tommy a drink.Avoid Angelica.Find out what you can about her death.I hesitate on the fourth number before adding.

  Find out what you can about the picture…I sigh and look back at the house, now thankful that the windows were all covered, so that if I did look up, I wouldn't have to look in, possibly see something from my past that I didn't want to think of. The window to my room was on the left side of the house, overlooking the neighbour’s pce, where I used to watch a real family having fun together.

  I do a quick search and find the number of a locksmith before dialing it.

  Ring… Ringring… “Hello! This is Night Rock City Locksmith, you lock’em we un-lock’em!

  I get startled at the quick response and hastily answer. “Hi, yes hello, Uhh I need to get my locks changed, I just moved back to town.”

  “Yes we can do that for you, do you have anything showing you live there?”

  “Uhh yes, yes I do.”

  “Alrighty now, just give me the address and I can send down one of our guys, Angus should be avaible in the next half an hour for service.”

  “Okay, thank you! The address is 109 Travellers Road, if you go down-“

  “Yes, I know the pce… and… you're, going to be there?” I raise my eyebrow at the confusion in her voice.

  “Yeah I’m here right now, in my car just waiting, why?”

  “Sending Angus now, thank you very much for your patronage.”

  Click.

  I look at my phone, the call having ended abruptly. “Awesome… I guess I'm waiting until he gets here now… so much for getting some cleaning done, I can have a nap at least until they get here…” I lean back in my seat, getting comfortable while I wait. Being woken up this morning was something that left me with little sleep, and even less sanity.

  ———

  Knock Knock Knock

  I lean upwards, the banging at my window feeling awfully like the officer’s only a day ago now. I open the door and see a short young man standing there awkwardly, a smile on his face that screams uncomfortable to be here. He stands back as I open the door, before getting out and closing it behind me. “Hi sorry, thought I’d take a nap while I waited, are you Angus?”

  He nods, before stretching out a hand, the whole time avoiding looking at the house as he faces it. “Y-yes, I am, uhh… I wasn't actually expecting anyone to be here when I got here, j-just thought it was going to be a prank, again.”

  Rubbing my eyes I nod at him, and then realising his words I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Why would it be a prank?”

  “O-oh, uhh we get called out sometimes for this pce… surely you know the rumours? I guess Sally thought it was real enough to actually send someone out this time…” I look him deadpan in the face.

  “I have enough to deal with, Angus. What are you talking about?”

  “Ahem… Uhh this is the uhh… Witch murder house… there's like, rumours about it being haunted, cause like, the dy who owned the pce killed her kid and went crazy. Wild right… surprised they didn't tell you about it when they sold you the house” I close my eyes and lean back against the truck, feeling an urge to scream in frustration. No you know what, I would prefer the fucking mold, haunted is ten times worse to sell a pce, especially in this fucking declining town. “A-anyway do you have like your purchase papers and things so I can like, not accidently redo any locks again without permission… Uhh forget I said that.”

  I breathe in deep, wishing that I had decided to just burn the pce down instead of already writing up a list for it. “Yes, fuck, give me a second.” I rummage around in the back before pulling out the deed to the house that came with everything else and giving it to him to look at. “Here.”

  He nods his head and checks it over, before seeming to hit the name and then going slightly pale. I sarcastically wave my hand in front of his face. “Yes, hi it’s me, the dead girl, can you please fucking redo the locks in my hom-ugh, house, before I haunt you!” Getting aggravated with the situation I give him a push, which seemed to make him realise that I wasn't a ghost. After all, ghosts don't know sarcasm.

  “Ye-y-yeah of course! Uhh please don’t tell the office about what I said like I honestly thought it was real! Like the way people said it I- Yep shutting up, I’m sorry fuck.” I stare at him in disbelief, waiting for him to realise he has a job to do before he makes off for the house, then with a desperate smile runs back past me and picks up all his tools, as well as what looks like some extra bags of locks. As he gets to the door he pulls out a lockpicking kit seeming ready to break in, I push past him and turn the nob, letting the door swing open.

  “Should I call the office and let them know to send someone else?” He shakes his head hurriedly before peeking down the hallway, an audible gulp sounding off in his throat. What have the people of this city been saying about this pce!? I mean she obviously didn’t go to prison, I dont know anything about her being crazy… fuck I really need to find out more about her death… It's okay Jane, it's on the list. Just… you can deal with it tomorrow, after some cleaning and a good night's sleep, in a real bed, that doesn’t have your freaky ex watching over you making you remember things! Fucking fee Fi fo fum, I told her that! and she just. Just, used it against me like it was nothing!

  I wait by the front of the house, stopping myself from leaning against it, the grime on the side having built up too much for me to want to touch it at all. Angus seems to find my presence unnerving, so I feel myself watching him as he works, his hands fumbling as he keeps looking back slightly, then back at his work, seeming to want to talk to me but deciding against it. As he finishes he gets back up and peers back through the house, then turns to face me, not daring to look me in the eyes. “Uhh… th-the back too?” I look down at him with derision and he nods in confirmation before picking up his equipment and awkwardly making his way through the grass on the right side of the house.

  I scoff in amazement, the fact that he could just as easily walked through the house, but obviously not wanting to, barely wanting to do the locks in the first pce from how he acted. Was this pce so scary when I left? Could such rumours really cause people to be that scared of this pce? I look around and see how unkempt the whole pce is, maybe a childhood fear? He seemed maybe twenty one? Prime age for it all to go down. I see him through the house, watching him constantly checking over his shoulder, breathing in and out and talking to himself as he works on the lock. Takes it out, swaps it and then puts it back in, barely doing any checks before rushing back around.

  As he huffs and puffs, his hands on his knees and bags over his shoulder he looks up at me with a nervous smile. “Ha… haha… I-I never thought I’d be back here… fuck. Uhh jobs all done, we will send you the invoice miss M-monroe.”

  I call out to him as he starts going past my car, “Wait Angus… What was this pce like as a kid that got you so scared?”

  He looks back at me, going white as a sheet again before uttering out a few words then leaving. “She would scream at you if you got too close, the wi-Miss Monroe, she was always watching to grab kids… th-thank you for your patronage.”

  I look back at the house, wondering quietly before checking the internet, putting in the address and groaning, nearly colpsing to my knees in frustration. There on a website called, ‘Night Rock City haunting grounds’ was a picture of the house, lightning bolts in the background, dark shading the whole way over. And in the window of the bottom floor was my mother’s face, anger flooding her features as she stared out of the picture looking like a demon from hell. At the bottom it says the picture was taken six years ago, four years after I left.

  Above the whole thing in blood red block letters are the words. ‘Witch Den, Murder House’.

  I sigh again and think to myself, ‘burning it down might need to be added to the list Jane’.