"Cree! Hi. Listen… No, no. I'm fine. They let me head home. Yeah, I'm a little sore, but I'll manage. Listen. There is something in my house…I don't know what, or who, but... No, I'm fine. Really, I am. Hey, I've never called YOU crazy. Okay, fine. See you in a bit."
I hung up the phone with a slight sigh, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the sore spot on my head. It wasn't the first time I'd had stitches, but I still preferred not to think about the fact that I'd literally just had my head sewn back together. I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy now in the house. I didn't necessarily feel threatened, but it was well past midnight by now, and everything was disturbingly quiet.
Ah, the joys of living alone.
Cree and I had been friends since high school. We were both just odd enough to stand out from our peers slightly, and though we had both attended different universities, we'd managed to keep in touch. Cree was pretty much the only person who knew the extent of my occult practices. She and I had sort of gotten into it together, though she was much better at it than I was. She had been seeing and hearing spirits since a young age, while I had the psychic awareness of a hammer. I knew there was something in this house, but I needed her help to figure out just what it was.
It took a little less than a half-hour for her to show up, and I jumped slightly when the doorbell finally rang.
"What took you?" I asked, opening the door to let her in and not batting an eye at her mud-covered clothes. Knowing her, she'd probably found someplace to go hiking and had forgotten to change.
"Hey, this neighborhood is a labyrinth at night." She said, "And I'm still getting used to French traffic laws. Now let me see." She took my arm sternly and leaned in to inspect my forehead. It wasn't a pretty sight, I knew for a fact, but I shooed her away.
"I'm fine, really. They already checked for anything serious."
"Hmm. I'm sure." She said, obviously not convinced, "What's with the music?"
"Classical mix." I sighed, "I was antsy. I couldn't just sit in the quiet." She nodded slightly, and started to take a look around some of the other rooms.
"Well, now I guess you know why you got such a good deal on this place. Rotten floorboards and ghosts." She mused, "Jesus, do you have every light in the house turned on?"
"I was antsy." I growled again. She smirked.
"Where'd you bust through the floor?" She asked, turning a bit more serious. I nodded and led her to the small back room that I had been using for storage. I had been avoiding it, to be honest, and so it was dark. I flipped the lights on and started slightly.
"Well that's interesting." Cree said, staring from over my shoulder. I nodded numbly. Although the floor was still in a rather messy state from caving in, all of my books had been stacked at the edge of the hole. Cree went forward to inspect things further.
"Careful," I said, "The floor might collapse again."
"Nah." She said, inspecting the edges of the hole, "This is the only hollow spot in the floor. It's a passageway."
"Yeah, I kinda gathered that when I fell down a flight of stairs." I snarked. She glared at me. I came up next to her, looking down at the hole.
"Are those all of your books?" She asked. I checked, and found that they were not only all present, but they seemed to have been alphabetized.
"Tell me exactly what happened." Cree said, sitting back on the floorboards. I blinked for a moment.
"I don't remember much, to be honest." I said, "I was going through a box, and the floor gave way, and I hit my head." I chewed my lip; "The rest is kinda fuzzy until After the EMS drugs wore off."
"You don't remember anything else?"
"Not for sure. I was too out-of-it" I sighed, "But…" I trailed off, and shook my head. I'd already nearly cracked my skull open. I didn't need to be sharing my concussed hallucinations.
"Tell me." Cree said sternly, not having any of it.
"I..." I struggled, trying to find a way to say it that didn't make me seem completely insane, "Something… carried me to the couch. I think." Cree's face didn't change. She just kept watching me. "I don't know." I went on, "One minute I was on the floor and the next I was in the living room."
Cree got up and headed for the door. I scrambled slightly to follow her, still uneasy in the storage room. We went back out to the living room, and she bent to inspect the couch.
"Damn, girl, you bled all over the place." She mused.
"I know. Not looking forward to cleaning the upholstery." I sighed. Cree stood up, pulling something from between two of the couch cushions. It was a handkerchief, made of simple—though nice—white cloth that looked to have yellowed faintly with age and was edged in black. It showed signs of having been neatly folded for quite some time, and at the joining of the creases in the middle were several fresh brown stains, presumably from my blood.
"This look familiar to you at all?" She asked, holding it up. I blinked for a moment before shaking my head.
"Cree, I honestly don't remember anything" I sighed, "I was out-of-it." I was starting to wish I'd waited until morning to call her in. My head was starting to hurt again, and I could just feel my body turning all sorts of colors from my fall down the stairs. She frowned slightly and glanced at her watch.
"How long have you been up?" She asked.
"Not including my little mid-afternoon blackout? Since nine." Now that I didn't have the anxiety of being alone in the house, I was fading fast, and had to stifle a yawn. "Why? What time is it?"
"Four a.m." She answered flatly, "Let's just pick this up in the morning, alright?"
"Technically, it IS the morning…"
"Shut up."
As tired as I was, I still found it difficult to get to sleep. My body was aching, and a fresh headache was grating against my brain. I tried to relax despite the pain, but after nearly an hour of tossing and turning in an effort to find a comfortable sleeping position I resigned to the fact that sleep was unlikely. I decided it would be in my best interests to seek the aid of ibuprofen. I opened my eyes as started in bed as I saw the shadow of a tall figure leaning over me. I gave a startled yell and reached blindly for the light, but by the time I managed to fully awaken, the image was gone. I stared around the room in shock for several moments before the bedroom door opened, nearly evoking another yell from me. Cree leaned inside, giving me a questioning glance.
"Dream." I said shortly, rubbing my face. I forgot momentarily about my stitches and bruised forehead, and unceremoniously raked the back of my hand across my brow. "Ah, shit…" I groaned, wincing. I checked my hand and saw a bit of blood smeared across my knuckles.
"you sure you're okay?" Cree asked, watching me as I got up and headed to the bathroom that joined to my room.
"I'm fine. Go back to bed." I huffed. She glared at me, but a moment later I heard the door close and the creak of the hallway floorboards. I checked my forehead in the mirror, and was relieved to find that I had not torn out any stitches. I popped a few ibuprofens to help with the lingering ache and stood for a moment looking at the damage in the mirror. The gash would heal. Even if it scarred, my hair would likely cover it up. In the meantime, I had to deal with a rather large purple splotch across my forehead that ached every time I moved my eyebrows. I sighed and made my way back to the bedroom. I took a scarf from my dresser and tied it around my head. It probably wouldn't do much to help my headache, but at least it might keep me from bleeding all over my pillowcase.
As bad as it was, being covered in bruises and sporting fresh stitches on my scalp, I couldn't help but feel a bit relieved. Things had gone surprisingly smoothly, considering that it was my first experience in a foreign hospital. Especially factoring in that my French was not exactly perfect. I had tried my best to become fluent by the time I made the move to Paris, but I still struggled now and then. Languages had never come easily to me. I could barely manage to say the right thing in my native tongue, let alone another one. And though I spent the majority of the time doped up on hospital painkillers, I think it went rather well. I woke up with all my limbs, at least. Even if they were rather badly bruised.
I gingerly climbed into bed, feeling my body protest against any sort of movement. I honestly didn't feel much like sleeping after being knocked out for most of the day. It was nearing six in the morning, and I could hear the sounds of people starting to go about their daily routines. Even though this part of town was relatively quiet, the walls of the old house were thin, and even the smallest sound seemed to carry for miles in the quiet of the early morning. I stared absently at the window, watching the dim grey light creep in around the edges of the curtains. I thought again about the books at the edge of the passageway, and the brief image I had seen of the shadow leaning over me, and I shuddered. It might not have scared me outright, but there was a certain eeriness to it that made me uncomfortable.
Cree was still asleep on the couch when I made my way to the kitchen. I wasn't surprised. She wasn't the one who had fallen down a flight of stairs. I heard her start to stir as I went about making a pot of tea. She shuffled in behind me as I took some mugs down from the cupboard, and I heard her snort slightly at the scarf I still had tied around my head.
"Did you even sleep?" She asked groggily, wiping her glasses on the corner of her shirt. I shook my head.
"I waited until sunup at least. Give me some credit. Besides, I got plenty of sleep yesterday whether I wanted it or not."
She snorted again and shook her head. "What time is it?"
"Almost eight." I said, "I waited as long as I could. It was rather boring, you know." I started the kettle and tore open a pair of teabags for us. Cree eyed my now mildly mussed headscarf, and I reached back to untie it. No sense in wearing it now that I was up...
"I want to go check out that passageway today." I announced, watching her closely. She had to have seen something. She was more sensitive than I was. As if sensing my thoughts, she remained relatively stoic and gave a small shrug.
"Whatever, man." She said, "Just don't die.