Hello everyone! I'm glad there are people that are enjoying my story. It means a lot to me! Anyway, enjoy chapter 3!

The snow stopped for the night, but the cold remained. Even the fireplace couldn't keep the family warm. Edith felt the familiar winds on her fragile skin. The nightgown swept the floor, the only bit of comfort in the winter. The old woman continued her walk down the hallway, and stopped by the elevator. She studied the recognized frame and the latch. Shivers traveled down her back, not only from the cold metal, but the blood stains that were imprinted.

Edith carried herself to the railing of the stairway. The broken part, splintered and decayed, still dropped off. The wood dangled at the edge, waiting to fall from the high floor. The only thing the woman could picture was the wretched lady, her eyes full of anger and bitter intention. The thought of the poison slowly taking her life, waking up each night to drops of blood made the old woman cough. She sat down on the top step and leaned against the wall. Her shaking hands covered her mouth, doing her best to calm herself down. After a minute, the mansion was reverted back to its usual silence.

"Are you alright?"

John stood outside of his bedroom, a candle flickered against him. The light reflected on the warmest sleepwear he had. His mother nodded and stood up, almost falling in the process. Her son helped her, gently placing her upright.

"Are you sure you should be here?" he asked," In this house?"

"Should you be?" she replied.

"We're all in good health," the doctor shot back as she turned her around," Mom, I know you warn us about the house, but if it's so terrifying, why did you come?"

"I won't be around for forever," Edith walked down the hall," I can only warn you about the dangers of living here. I'll do what I can to protect you, and Diana, and the kids. Especially the children. Even if I have to come back here."

John kept an eye on his mother. Her movements were weak, and it was obvious that coming here took a toll on her. Her weary, yet wondrous eyes stared down at his feet. While the doctor felt guilt for what she was going through, he couldn't see the truth in it- and neither could his wife. His daughter was caught up in the lie, every thought and action connected to Crimson Peak. His sons couldn't spare a moment to care about the story. They didn't fear the ideas, but never doubted them either. Edith, however, had her beliefs onto Madge- and he wouldn't have it.

"Magdalena is almost seventeen," he mentioned," the boys turned twelve last November- this is the perfect age to be responsible and understand the truth about our world. They're safe in this house because they know better. They get that the myths in the book aren't real and that they have nothing to worry about here. Now, we should get to bed- my colleagues are meeting us in town tomorrow. Goodnight Mom."

With the end of his tirade, John walked down the hall and went back into his room. Edith felt a violent wind blow against her bare neck, causing her to shrivel up and cough aloud. Her son didn't believe her and there was no changing his mind- she was sure of it.

The family drove into town, the sun bright against the snow. It almost blinded the doctor as he moved onward. The back of the car was packed, the children and Edith unable to move. John talked the entire drive, his head in the clouds and mind only on his colleagues. After what seemed like forever, the family was finally exposed to the cold as they approached an office. The building looked new, with shiny windows and a red door. Dr. Elwin Foster was painted on the front, Dr.Finley Bargains ,both faded and in desperate need of a touch up. Dr. John McMichael was fresh on the glass. Madge questioned- to herself- why the town needed three doctors. His name in gold made the man smile as the family stepped into the doctor's office.

They were greeted with a carpeted waiting room. There were chairs surrounding the beige room, a staircase that lead to a light upstairs. That was until a man walked down. He had a gracious smile under his thick beard, and a tall, wide frame. Behind him, was a bald man. He supported a mustache on his upper lip, and thin glasses around his eyes. He was short and thin, They were immediately recognized by John, who walked over and shook hands with the taller man.

"It's good to see you, Elwin," Dr. McMichael exclaimed.

"Likewise, John," Dr. Foster said.

"This must be your family!" Dr. Bargains turned to the others that stood," I'm Doctor Finley Bargains, and my colleague Doctor Elwin Foster- come upstairs! My wife and I welcome you to our home."

The group made their way up into a living room. It was half the size of the one in the McMichaels' American home. The lavish style of the Fosters was similar to their own. It gave comfort to the new family. On the couch was a brunette woman, who smiled and approached the guests.

"Hello!" she exclaimed," it's so nice to finally meet you. I'm Julia- Mrs Foster. You must be Diana, you are as lovely as John described you."

"Thank you," the other woman smiled," this is my mother in law, Edith. And my children, Magdalena, and twins Edward and George."

After they got familiar, the children went into another room. They were met by five other children- two that looked near the girl's age, and three other boys- closer to Edward and George. While they ran to the boys, Madge went over to the two on the bench. There was a girl, with her hair pulled back to show bright green eyes. The boy on the other side (his hair slicked back and a smile plastered to his face) turned his head to Miss McMichael.

"You must be Doctor McMichael's daughter," the young man and woman stood up," I'm Dylan- son of Doctor Foster."

"And I'm Grace Bargains," the girl happily announced," Daughter of- well, you know. I've heard that your father bought Allerdale Hall. Doesn't he know what went on and what still goes on?"

At least other kids believed in the story. At the mention of the deadly mansion, Dylan stiffened slightly. He looked to Madge, nervous, yet full of wonder. They anticipated her answer.

"He doesn't believe the stories," the girl admitted," Every time my grandma or I mention it, he shrugs it off like it's nothing. He's not one for spirits and ghosts."

"Hasn't he read Crimson Peak?" Dylan piped up and walked over to the bookshelf.

"He's heard the story about a thousand times," Madge had a smile on her face," after all, his mom wrote the book."

Dylan and Grace looked quickly to each other. Miss McMichael gently took the book from the boy's hands. She flipped through it, noticing how new the book was. The words were bold and the cover felt fresh. Madge observed the reactions of the other two.

"Your grandmother is Edith Cushing?" Grace gasped,"Then you must've heard the story a lot!"

"I have a copy of Crimson Peak that I keep with me in the house," Magdalena explained," I'm guessing the both of you believe in what goes on."

"Of course we do!" Dylan sat down," I went in the house, in fact. Last summer, Grace and I snuck out and went snoopin' around the ol' mansion. We knew somethin' was off when we got there."

The Foster boy recalled hearing the piano throughout the entire house. Madge got a chill down her back, remembering the melody when no one sat at the stool. Grace swore that a woman kept crying, as if she wanted to be left alone. Each puzzle piece of their story fascinated Madge even more. She was amazed to find people that believed in Crimson Peak just as much as she did. She could tell they would get along well.

"Eventually," Dylan recalled with a laugh," I got so scared, I grabbed Grace and we got the hell out of there!"

"He was shaking the entire way home," she interrupted," I was afraid that he was gonna rat us out- but he's kept his mouth shut to this day. That place is definitely haunted. Im not surprised if you've encountered something already."

"I have," Madge went on," Someone was playing the piano- no one was there. I think it's the ghost of Lucille-"

"Dinner's ready!"

The younger boys scrambled off, prepared to scoff down their meal. The three older children slowly made their way to the door.

"You know," she said," you're going to meet my grandma- but I'd talk about the book after dinner. My father-"

"We understand," Grace nodded," Before my mom died, she was a firm believer of the book. She would've loved to have met the Edith Cushing."

"You'll love her."