Chapter Ten
December 2009
Rachel closed the front door behind her. She'd just taken Aidan home from school. He protested that he could walk home, but it got dark quickly in the winter and she didn't want him going anywhere there could be danger. No matter how little he said it, she knew he couldn't wait until his sixteenth birthday when he'd be able to drive himself. Aidan was up in his room now. She wasn't sure what he was doing. Probably looking at his pictures. He'd become near enough obsessed with taking pictures and video's. Carrying on his father's legacy, she guessed. She'd been afraid of getting a boyfriend ever since Max had died. Samara couldn't kill anyone personally, but if anyone watched the tape… Rachel kept trying to destroy them, the tapes, but she couldn't bring herself to. If she destroyed them, someone would die. But if she didn't destroy them, someone would die. How stupid.
She sighed and walked into the kitchen. She started making hot chocolate for Aidan and herself, when she realised that the tap was dripping. She turned it off, and resumed making the hot chocolate. The tap started dripping again. And she hadn't turned it on.
"Samara?" She called. She didn't know for sure if she was expecting an answer, but none came. She turned the tap off again, and headed upstairs.
"Aidan!" She called, knocking at his door. She waited two seconds for him to open it, and passed him the hot chocolate.
"Rachel… She's here," He said. He walked back into his room. He opened the door wider as he did so, giving Rachel a good view of the paper thrown all over his room. Paper he'd drawn on. Paper he'd drawn Samara's face on. Those pictures were nightmarish. Rachel walked back inside, and Aidan looked up at her.
"Aidan…" She started, swallowing. "Why? Why did you draw those pictures?"
"She told me to." He said. Rachel took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was just like when he'd watched the tape.
"Aidan? What do you mean she's here?" She asked, desperately.
"She's here, with us. She's always been here. She never went away. She's in the dark place. But she's also here," Aidan said. He went back to shading in his drawing. He had become a better artist since this had last happened, and that just made the drawing's scarier. Rachel left the room, going back downstairs. She could hear the dripping tap again.
Drip, drip, drip…
The tap wasn't leaking.
Drip, drip, drip…
But the sound hadn't stopped. If the tap wasn't leaking, where was that sound coming from? And then Rachel recognised the unforgettable sound of static. She ran the rest of the way down the stairs, coming face to face with a television.
Drip, drip, drip…
That's where the sound was coming from. The television was leaking. Rachel walked closer to it, even though every part of her brain told her it was a bad idea. It was almost like she couldn't control her own limbs…
Drip, drip, drip…
She put her hand under it. It was like it was raining, with the water spurting out of the screen. And then, Rachel knew it was far too late as she heard another sound join the dripping and the static. The – also unforgettable – unnatural sound the well made. She looked up. There it was. Still closed.
Rachel…
Rachel gasped. She could hear Samara in her mind. Her voice had the breathy quality of a whisper, yet she heard her loud and clear.
"Get out of my mind!" Rachel cried.
Rachel…
"Leave us alone!" She shouted. What did Samara want now?
Rachel… The attic…
Rachel stopped yelling. The attic? What did the attic have to do with anything? She didn't move. She just stood there, frozen. Why was this happening?
Rachel… Go… The attic…
Rachel shook her head.
"No, Samara," She sobbed. She held her head in her hands. Why was this happening to her?
Rachel! Go to the attic!
Samara sounded desperate. Rachel really didn't want to do what the murderous little psychopath was telling her to. But what choice did she have? She knew Samara. She knew she was powerful. She knew she could kill someone without being anywhere near them. If she didn't want her to hurt Aidan, she had to do what she was saying. She started walking back up the stairs. She shivered, but not because she was cold. She just realised she'd been biting her lip when she tasted the metallic blood in her mouth. When she reached the first floor landing, she went into the cupboard to get a ladder. Ladder. Just like in Samara's barn. This particular one was actually red, as well. She leant it against the wall, and began to climb. It wasn't easy being scared as she was, and she nearly fell more than once. She could feel her blood running faster in her veins, in a way that was far from pleasant. She climbed up into the attic and sat down.
"What now?" She called out.
Open the box… The big black one…
Rachel knew which box Samara meant. It was an old box, which she believed had once been her great-grandmothers. There was nowhere to put it, so she kept it here. She walked over to it. It was locked.
"Samara…"
The key's on the shelf…
Rachel ran over to the shelf and grabbed the key. It fit perfectly in the lock of the black chest. She opened it. And staring back at her was a red, spiral bound notebook, slightly water-damaged. She frowned. She'd never seen it in her house before.
Read it…
Rachel did so. It was Samara's diary. Despite how much Rachel feared her, some of it almost made her cry. Especially the end. And the beginning. At the beginning – when she was five – Samara seemed so innocent. It was hard to believe she'd grow into a murderous psychopath. All she'd ever wanted was someone to love her… She just didn't understand how to make them do that. She didn't understand people at all. Maybe that was why nobody understood her.
"I'm sorry, Samara," Rachel said. "But I needed to save my son. And everyone else. And I couldn't let any more people die… I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you out," Samara gave no answer. Rachel left the attic, diary in hand. The T.V was off. That was strange.
THE END
That's it. The end. No more after this. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, it makes me happy to know that someone out there has enjoyed my work, even if it's not that good. I'm planning to rewrite sometime, though. Keyword there being planning. May never happen. So, who liked the ending? Did I keep everyone in character? I might not have, since I just switched Samara from the protagonist to the antagonist. And yes, what Rachel read was what you have all just read.