A ear shattering scream rattled the windows of the house, a high pitched, fearful noise that made Francis slip over the edge of the balcony. He instinctively gripped the ledge, holding on tightly as his knuckles turned white.
Before this incident, the investigation had not turned up much more than one body and some rats in the closet. There was no safety promised, and the non-existent railing along the staircases did not say differently. The atmosphere however, was constantly in question. It would switch, from quiet, soft thudding footfalls, to a scratching noise in the walls; or some eerie whistling. There was no real pattern to it, considering the long moments of agonizing silence. A while ago, no noise would have been welcomed when they first entered. Now it was some deadly version of musical chairs. If the players didn't pay attention while the music was playing.. then they could be caught .
Try as he might, Francis couldn't seem to lift himself up on the balcony. He hung there, swinging in the empty air. He rose, his chest barely above the ledge. His arms were beginning to shake a little as he gripped the concrete. Francis kicked his legs up for more momentum.
"Come on.. Shouldn't be this hard. "Francis blew some hair out of his eyes. He thought about calling for help, but extra weight might cause some problems. He could hear the porch's supports groaning underneath his own weight, threatening to break unless there was relief. Frustrated, the Frenchman slid back down, sighing. Gym class was filtering back to his memory, specifically the pull-up bars. He wasn't exactly a champion at them, being more attracted to watching the others perform than actually doing it himself.
"One more try.. hup!" with one great heave, he flopped onto the porch, and crawled back into the safety of the house.
The air was suffocating in the upper room as he re-entered. The stale air was hard to get used to, and the smell was more than he could bear. Francis propped up more windows to make up for the lack of ventilation. There was dust everywhere,and his nose reacted accordingly, letting out several healthy sneezes.
Treading lightly, he made his way into the Billards room. Some pool sticks lay broken on the floor. Whether from age or an aggressive player, he couldn't tell.
Tiny red droplets were spattered against the wall and just below that, was the second victim.
Matthew Williams lay there, his eyes stared afar off, as if he were thinking. Francis ' stomach clenched and turned, barely able to swallow as he took in the scene.
Arthur shifted uneasily as he lay flat against the floor. There was a stiff pain in his back and shoulders, and the metal nails scratching against him made it even more uncomfortable. He pulled himself up, resting his hands on his knees for a moment. He'd fallen backwards, not remembering to duck his head as he made his exit. The room he was going to enter had a somewhat smaller opening. Crouching down,Arthur made his way in. unlike the other rooms in the house, it wasn't hot and dry. it was damp, dirty, and terribly cold.
There was something eerily familiar about it. He shivered, dismissing the Deja-vu, and lit up a match, hoping to clear up the stench. Arthur yelped in surprise when a rat ran over his shoe and darted into a nearby hole. He was starting to hate how pests found their way to him so easily.
