Timmy shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. No, this was from fear.
He hated this house now. He wished his friends hadn't suggested the idea of exploring. He even wished he hadn't foolishly agreed to go in with them.
Timmy jumped out of his skin at every sound as he huddled in the bathroom of the house. The Dulvey Haunted House, his friends had called it. Rumor was that a family had disappeared sometime around 2014. After a thorough police investigation found no evidence, the case was closed and the house was left abandoned.
Or so they thought.
Word began to spread throughout the small Louisiana town, detailing strange noises and occasional appearances of the residents. It was official. The mansion was thought to be haunted.
But poor Timmy and his companions just had to prove that the house wasn't haunted. They were stupid and ignorant enough to go inside, to see for themselves if the rumors were true. And now, huddling in the bathroom corner, a key clutched in his shaking hands, the boy was now suffering the consequences of his mistakes alone. Because they were all dead.
Grace, Phil, Stanley, Marlene….all of them. Dead.
Dead.
The word repeated over and over in his head, up to the point that he was certain he would go crazy.
Phil was the one who had first suggested that they spend the night in the supposedly haunted house. It was ironic that he was the first to die as well.
The five friends had decided to settle down in a living room. It wasn't too shabby. A brick fireplace, an old television set. The place was unsettling, to say the least.
"All right, here's how this works," Phil had stated. "We all stay here for the night, and we jot down anything that's out of the ordinary. First one to run home crying owes the rest of us ten bucks each."
Minutes had passed. Nothing had happened. The five teenagers had passed the time by wandering around and stealing any spare change they could get their hands on. Timmy had been eager to join in, but by the time he did, the only thing he'd found was an old family photo.
The photo contained a couple. The man appeared middle-aged, and wore glasses, a yellow shirt, and the shadow of a goatee on his chin. His arm was draped around a beautiful woman, about the same age, with greying hair and a warm smile that the young man found welcoming.
Without hesitation, Timmy had folded up the photo and placed it in his pocket. He knew it wasn't right, but he felt he had to save something.
For about an hour or two, the five friends explored the house, not caring whether they were invited or not.
That was before the friends had noticed that Phil was missing.
Stanley was caught up enough in his complaining about Phil's selfishness that he was barely able to catch himself as he tripped over the fireplace. A portion of the wall slid back, revealing a secret door.
At first, the group of friends had seemed more than willing to check it out. A secret entrance meant a secret treasure, after all.
But that eagerness faded as they discovered the lifeless body of Phil. His body was hanging from the hole in the floor, and half of his face looked like it had been clawed off.
Timmy and the others simply stared in shock and horror.
The boy violently pushed the memory away from his head, not wanting to remember anymore. From there, he had concluded that something was wrong, and therefore, had tried to leave. Stanley and the others, however, had decided to stay and find out what other secrets this house held. Stanley took the opportunity to intimidate the younger boy. So Timmy, against his better judgement, had stayed as well.
That was his second mistake.
Grace had fallen next. Unlike the others, her fear of the unknown kept her from staying any longer, and, being the paranoid person she was, she had tried to flee through the nearby shack in the woods. Her final screams could be heard all the way from the dreaded swamp, as she was killed by what Marlene described only as "a woman with a lantern."
Marlene's eye for detail, and her determination to uncover the truth, sealed her fate only hours later. She had learned much about Grace's killers in her final hours. She had also uncovered the identities of the missing couple. Jack and Marguerite Baker, Timmy remembered. She'd even helped point out a way for Timmy and Stanley to escape. Even in her final moments, when she was held at gunpoint by the woman with the lantern, she stayed strong.
Timmy guessed he still owed her for that. Her death was a noble one, but it had still caused the two surviving friends so much pain.
Stanley's demise had scarred Timmy the most, however. He could still hear his friend's screams…
The daring teenager opened up the door to the next room of the basement. "Are you sure it's safe in there?" Timmy asked.
"Relax," Stanley assured him. "Of course it's safe…uh, you go first."
"What? No way! What if those killers are in there?"
Stanley swiped the handgun he had found earlier, trotting into the room himself. "Suit yourself."
And with that, Timmy was suddenly alone. Minutes of tension passed, and the only noise the young man heard was the clanking of metal. After what seemed like hours, Timmy mustered up whatever courage he had and stepped into the room. He had a stroke of luck. He found the key to the attic, along with a valve handle. The valve handle, seemed useless, though, and so he decided not to take it.
And then, without warning, the basement door slammed shut.
The young boy whipped around, trying and failing to open the now locked door. "Stanley!" he screamed, banging on the door. "Stanley, open the door!"
No matter how hard he tried, the door wouldn't budge. Timmy kept banging on the door, not paying attention to how quiet the room had been only minutes ago.
That is, until he heard groans coming from the ceiling ducts.
The boy instinctively looked up. The metal of the ducts bent as what could only be animal snarls began to erupt from the other side.
Enough was enough. Taking a few steps back, the young man rammed his full weight into the door. He was rewarded with a loud snap as the crate that was roughly shoved against the door shattered into pieces. "Help!" he yelled.
"Calm down, kid, I'm right here," a voice shot back.
Timmy turned around to see Stanley doubling over in a fit of laughter. "Dear God, Timmy, I had no idea you screamed like a cat. Priceless!" The boy dropped to the ground, clutching his sides as he laughed some more.
The scrawny, younger teen felt his face turn red at the comment. "Maybe I should lock you in with some snarling animal. See how you like it!" he shot back.
The humorous look on Stanley's face turned to one of confusion. "What animal? We're the only ones here, pal."
"There was something in the vents, I swear," Timmy pleaded.
"Sure. That's what they all say," his friend deadpanned, waltzing over to the open door. After a few moments of looking around the room, Stanley turned back to face the boy.
"You see? There's no one here! Honestly, I don't know why—"
A large, clawed hand tore through the vent, cutting off the bully's statement…and his life.
Timmy shuddered, trying desperately not to remember what had happened next. The boy had sprinted straight out of the basement, clutching the key and unsuccessfully trying to tone out the gunshots and Stanley's screams for help. He had ducked into the bathroom, desperate for a place to hide and collect his thoughts.
The bathroom was a mess. Blood was flowing in the toilet where there should have been water. Needles and syringes were scattered about, and a noticeable amount of blood stained the shower curtain.
The boy decided to rest a little longer, before moving on. Timmy knew leaving the bathroom wouldn't help much, but he just couldn't stand the blood in the toilet any longer. Every time he looked at it, he felt like he was sick to his stomach.
He slowly stood up, limping out of the bathroom and into the eerily silent corridor before him. He had a key to escape the house, and it looked like it wouldn't fit in the back door. Grace had already found and used that key once, and look how that ended for her. But there was another way out. Marlene had told Timmy that she had spotted a locked door in the attic. It was a shot in the dark, but it was also the only chance he had.
So with those thoughts in his head, Timmy picked up his pace, climbing the stairs to the second floor. In a matter of seconds, the boy made it to the attic.
The attic looked just as creepy as the other rooms in the house. Mannequins lay scattered around the room. The structure was unsettling, just like the rest of the house. An old-fashioned phone lay on a table to the right.
The boy briefly wondered why someone would own so many mannequins, but his thoughts stopped going crazy once he saw it. The attic door. The boy felt a smile creep up on his face as he gazed at it. His way out of here was right in front of him.
A loud ringing brought Timmy out of his trance, causing the teen to jump from his skin. Apparently, the old phone still worked. And it was ringing.
Cautiously, the boy strode over to the phone and answered. "Who is this?" he demanded.
He felt chills roll down his spine at the response. "I could ask you the same," a female voice answered.
"What?"
"You intrude on this property, and yet you actually want to leave now? Quite ironic of you. I at least hope my friend didn't give you a rough time…" The voice, mysterious as it was, held a cunning edge to it. Part of him believed that she could be working with them. The killers.
"You can tell your killer friends that I don't want any part of their games. Just let me get out of here and go home!" the boy threatened.
"If you want to leave, fine by me. You've got the key out of here. Just try not to forget anything else on the way out."
"Anything else? What are you talking about?" Timmy asked, unable to grasp the meaning of the woman's strange words. "Tell me!"
There was nothing on the end of the line except static. That was all the reassurance he needed to decide whether or not to run like hell.
Sprinting toward the ladder, Timmy dug the attic key out of his pocket. As he climbed the ladder, the boy felt a sense of relief wash over him. He would finally be free of this place, of all the misery and fear and—
Bang!
Agony exploded in his chest.
The boy's face contorted in a mixture of pain and confusion. And he knew he needed to get out fast. Timmy continued to climb the ladder, albeit slower than usual, refusing to let the agony get the better of him. He was so close to sticking the key in and opening the attic door. And then he heard another loud bang from behind. And then another.
This time, his shoulder and stomach both flared into pain, and as he finally lost his weak grip on the ladder, he at last understood the woman's cryptic words.
The handgun. Down in the basement, with Stanley. He had completely forgotten about it.
Timmy collapsed onto the wooden floor, blood flowing from his wounds. He knew that the killers had found him, and his hopeless situation told him that there would be no escape this time. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he could barely make out a figure slowly walking towards him.
It took his eyes a second to adjust, but when his blurry vision finally cleared, Timmy was barely able to suppress a scream.
It was the man from the photo. Same shirt, same glasses…and he was clutching the handgun in his right hand. And if the man's expression was anything to go by, he certainly did not look pleased.
When he finally spoke, it took Timmy a second to register over the pain.
"Got to admit, boy," the man stated, with a respect his enraged face contradicted. "You gave me quite a chase. For a minute, I thought you might actually make it out alive." His eyes fell on the handgun for a moment, before staring back at the boy bleeding out in front of him. "But only for a minute."
Timmy felt the man start to drag him by his leg, away from the ladder, away from the outside world…and towards the back deck leading to the eerie mansion itself. The young man could barely hear a slight chuckle and a few final words before he gave in to the darkness.
"Welcome to the family, son."
Hey, guys. For those of you who are keeping up with my fanfic, Lasting Scars, sorry about the delay. It's been a busy week with finals coming up and all that. Just thought you should be aware.
In any case, I hope this haunting little piece of work will make up for the lack of activity. I've never played any Resident Evil game, but I've got to say, I'm a bit interested in Resident Evil 7. (I did play the Beginning Hour demo; it was scarier than I thought it would be.)
Anyway, thanks so much for your patience and I will talk to you guys later. And for any newcomers and followers who enjoy this fanfic, reviews would be greatly appreciated. Have a nice day. :)