Kate Marsh was lying in bed. She was watching the digital clock on her cell phone. The time read: 7:45am. It was Monday, October 14th .
Five minutes, Kate thought.
The room was old, the bottom half, paneled by dark wood, the top half, cream colored drywall. It had been an attic at one time. The ceiling slanted in certain spots. The angle of the ceiling matched the slant of roof beyond. The circular window on the wall above Kate's bed was propped open. She was letting in the cool morning breeze.
The room was sparsely dressed. There was an old rocking chair. It was made of some kind of dark wood; It matched the gloomy wooden paneling. There was an old dresser which was covered in a coat of black enamel paint. The paint had begun to wear in certain spots, slowly revealing the original wooden finish beneath. There was a closet at the far end of the room. It's slatted door was finished with the same thick black enamel paint. Two large crosses were nailed against the wall, one on either side of the little closet. Each cross bore the image of Jesus Christ.
Kate's eyes wandered from her phone to the closet door on the far side of the room. Goosebumps rippled across Kate's skin.
Satan lives there, Kate thought. The words had first belonged to Jessica Marsh, Kate's cousin. They were spoken years ago, in jest.
Kate smiled, her thoughts turning to her rebellious kin, how they had played endlessly as children. Visiting her aunt's had become far less enjoyable ever since Jessica left.
Kate reached to a small night table. Her golden cross was resting next to an old ceramic lamp. She retrieved it, holding the cross against her chest. She prayed for Jessica, hoping for the girl's happiness, wherever she is. Kate found the prayer widening, her wishes extending to everyone that was in Arcadia Bay, lost or otherwise.
Kate sat up in bed, crossing her legs. She placed the cross around her neck. She reluctantly turned her attention back to her phone. She kept one eye partially affixed to the closet door.
Kate began browsing her text messages. None had come in over the course of the night. Her eyes fell from her phone to her lap. She sighed.
After a moment she thumbed to her text history. She selected a contact, Dana Ward. Dana's most recent texts appeared on the screen. There was a photo of three children sitting at a foldout plastic table. It was a tent. A Red Cross insignia was readily visible on the tent wall. On the table there was a metallic cage with a small black and white bunny inside. The cage door was open, one of the children was presenting the rabbit with a slice of carrot.
A message had come with the picture.
Dana: I found some friends that wanted to help take care of Alice!
Kate: That makes me smile :)
Dana: No news yet. I'll keep you updated.
Kate: Thank you Dana
Kate smiled again at the photo. She had received it the previous day. Kate began typing into her phone. She sent the message to Dana's phone.
Kate: Any news?
Kate would have to wait for a response. She's probably still asleep, she thought.
Kate felt cold air brush past the back of her neck. She stood up from the bed, bucking the comforter away. She turned to the window, above the bed. She stretched her arms up, aiming to close the round pane of glass. She pushed. It was stuck. Years of neglect had made the window stubborn.
A creaking noise called out from behind her.
Kate spun at the noise. The room was empty. Her eyes fell back to the closet door.
It was open, less than an inch.
Kate stared at the door. The noise of the cool breeze faded away. Her breathing halted. Her hearing focused. The silence of the room grew louder. She felt the sweat begin to snake from her pores. The tiny hairs on her arm stood at attention.
She could feel the cold air still pouring in from the window behind her. She wanted to shut it.
I'm trapped, Kate thought, I can't look away.
I'm too scared to look away, but also, too afraid to step forward.
Kate shifted her gaze from the door to the cross on the wall. Give me the strength to move forward, Kate thought, begging.
A powerful breeze blew in from the window. Kate felt it flowing through her hair. The closet door clicked shut, closed by the wind.
Kate stared at the cross on the wall, her eyes widening. She made the sign of the cross. Thank you, she thought. She breathed.
The wind continued to blow. Kate turned to the window once more. She reached up and closed the circular portal. It closed without difficulty. Kate sighed.
Kate gasped, startled by a terrible noise. She turned, her heart leaping in her chest. Her eyes darted to the closet. It was closed.
It was a buzzing noise. Her phone alarm was going off. It was finally 8:00am.
Kate rolled her eyes. She reached down to her bed and grabbed the phone. She swiped to the right, disabling the alarm. She slipped the phone into the pocket of her pajama pants.
Kate went to the dresser and grabbed a small stack of clothes from the top of it. She had prepared her outfit the previous night; She always did. She took the clothes and stepped across the room towards the door to the hall. Kate stopped halfway across the room. Her eyes narrowed at the closet door. It was sitting ajar. Less than an inch.
Kate gulped. She took three steps forward and exited into the hallway.
B
B
Abigail Marsh was walking down the hall. The woman was dressed in a black blouse. Her long black skirt came to her knees. A large golden cross hung from her neck. She walked with her back straight, posture perfect. She was very thin, too thin. Her long dirty blonde hair ran down past her shoulders. She always wore it half up and half down with a long braid keeping the hair firmly tucked behind her back.
Kate stepped out into the hallway. Her aunt approached her.
"How are you this morning Katie?," Abigail asked. Her words were flat, cold.
Kate tried to smile. It felt weak. She always found that smiling was difficult when confronted with her aunt's dour demeanor. It's hard to smile at someone with a permanent scowl.
"Good morning aunt Abigail," Kate said, "I'm feeling good this morning."
Abigail folded her hands, letting them rest on her stomach. "Wonderful. I heard your alarm going off and decided to check on you. You slept well?" she asked.
Kate nodded. "I tried."
"That's the best any of us can hope for," Abigail said, "I see you have some clothes. Would you like me to show you to the bathroom?"
"Um, sure," Kate said, "I feel like I haven't been here in ages. Thank you."
"We're family," Abigail said, "We should see each other more often." Abigail stepped forward, putting her arms out.
Kate hugged her aunt. The woman was stiff, tall. Abigail lifted her arms up, patting Kate's back. It took a moment but the woman finally made full body contact. Abigail put her hands back down, folded before her.
"Come with me," Abigail said. She began walking down the hall, motioning for Kate to follow.
Kate followed. The hallway was covered in green floral wallpaper. The floor was laminated wood. It was old, creaking beneath their feet as they went. The bathroom was at the far end of the hall, next to the stairs.
Abigail pushed her way into the partially opened doorway. She flipped the light switch by the door. A dim yellow light bulb illuminated the room. The tile was white, old. The grout was dark, marred by time. There was a counter-top, a sink basin set inside. A white porcelain toilet, matched in style by a claw-footed bathtub. Much like the rest of the home, the room was simple, undecorated but clean, a reflection of its owner.
"Here we are," Abigail said. She crossed to the far side of the room. She grabbed a white fluffy towel from a hamper. She set it on a silver towel rack next to the bathtub.
"Can I see your outfit?" Abigail asked.
Kate hesitated. Why? she thought. She nodded, handing her clothes over to her aunt.
Abigail looked through the clothing, unfolding it. A white blouse, a grey shawl, and a dark grey skirt. White cotton underwear. Abigail nodded. She refolded the clothes and placed them next to the sink.
"You dress so nice," Abigail said.
"Thanks," Kate said. She put her hands into the pockets of her pajamas, unsure of what to say. Kate pulled out her cell phone, placing it on the counter-top.
Abigail knelt down to a cabinet beneath the sink. There was a small shoebox with assorted cosmetics. She brought the box up to the sink. Kate watched her aunt rifling through the contents. Abigail hesitated at a series of shaving razors.
"I'll just take this whole box with me," Abigail said, "I think I'm going to paint my nails this morning."
"That sounds nice," Kate said.
There was a mirror above the sink. Abigail reached up. The mirror folded outward; It was a medicine cabinet.
"Let me just grab my pills real fast before I get out of your way," Abigail said. She grabbed three different prescription pill bottles, placing them in the shoebox. She paused for a moment before also grabbing a large bottle of aspirin. She shut the medical cabinet.
Kate realized what her aunt was doing. She felt shamed.
"That should do it," Abigail said, "That's everything I need. The bathroom's yours."
Kate nodded. She couldn't look her aunt in the eye. "Thanks again," Kate said.
"Of course," Abigail said, "I'm going to wake your father up and make breakfast. He should know better than to try and sleep late in this household."
"I'll be down soon," Kate said.
Abigail nodded, forcing herself to smile again. She began to leave, but stopped in the doorway.
"You should leave this open," Abigail said, rapping the door with her knuckle, "It gets really humid in here if you don't."
"That's fine," Kate said.
Abigail lingered for a moment and then left the bathroom doorway, disappearing towards the stairs.
Kate sighed. She stared into the mirror.
At least she cares about me, Kate thought, or at least my eternal soul.
She should of taken the hair dryer too. Kate imagined her aunt coming back to the bathroom to find her niece electrocuted, floating in a half-filled bathtub. Kate smiled at the dark thought. Her smile soured, thinking of her father Richard, how upset the man would be.
"I'm sorry," Kate said. She shook her head, speaking to the mirror.
Kate took a moment to examine herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were hazel, bloodshot. They had always been large and puffy. Her overnight crying had only accentuated the look.
The puffy eyes narrowed. Kate was examining her mouth. She considered her lips to be too small.
There was a bar of soap on the sink. Kate turned the water on.
Kate's dirty blonde hair was done up in a massive loose bun. She lifted her bangs, examining her forehead. Her skin was smooth, white, something she took care of, something she was proud of.
The water reached the appropriate temperature. Kate splashed it on her face. She soaped her face, massaging her skin. She rinsed the soap away. Kate scooped one last handful of water. She ran her wet hand around her neck, enjoying the sensation.
Kate let her hair down. It fell down evenly around her head, like a drape, coming to her shoulders. She smiled at herself through the hair curtain.
Kate eyed the bathroom door. She closed it, careful that no one would hear. She began stripping herself bare, prepared to shower.
B
B
Kate was out of the shower. She was examining herself in the mirror again. Kate took her time. She always did when preparing in the mornings. She loved the ritual. She put her hair back up into her trademark messy bun. Her clothes looked good, wrinkle-free. Her cross dangled perfectly on her white blouse, visible in her open, grey shawl.
Kate retrieved her purse from her room. She returned to the bathroom. She pulled two cosmetic items from the handbag.
The first was black eye shadow. She never used much, just a bit. She knew the darkness of the eyeshadow contrasted well with the voluminous whites of her ample eyes. The image was particularly striking coming from behind her bangs, which often hid her forehead and sometimes a portion of her eyebrows.
The second was bright red lipstick. It highlighted her lips, emphasizing them, increasing their size tremendously in Kate's mind.
Kate cleaned the bathroom, wiping down the sink, disposing of the towel in a hamper. She left the bathroom feeling confident in herself.
Kate walked to the end of the hall. She paused at the head of the staircase.
She heard her father's voice.
Richard Marsh was caught in a discussion with his older sister.
"Linda told me the same thing," Richard said.
"You should listen to her," Abigail said, "you married a good woman."
Kate sat down on the top step of the staircase. She cupped her hand over her ear, trying to hear the conversation better.
"N-No," Richard said, "We sent her to art school because that's what she wanted. She was depressed before that. We were trying to make her happy. I'm not going to tell my daughter what she can and can't do in life."
"Clearly that method has been working out for both you and Katie," Abigail said.
"I'm not going to take advice from someone who drove their only daughter away," Richard said.
"Fuck you Richard," Abigail snapped, her voice was starting to rise.
"Now you really sound like Linda," Richard joked.
"You know what's going to happen?" Abigail said, her voice had become menacing, cruel, "The same thing that happened to daddy. That's what is going to happen to Katie if you don't do something Richard."
"Shut your mouth!" Richard screamed.
Kate flinched. Kate had not often been exposed to her father's temper. It terrified her every time.
"You're a sick woman Abby." Richard said. His words dripped with disgust and disappointment.
Kate could hear her aunt crying from the kitchen.
Abigail wailed. "I'm sorry," she cried, "I'm not good. . ."
"J-Just stop," Richard stuttered, "S-Stop Abby."
Kate felt terrible. Richard's stutter only surfaced when the man was upset.
"Katie shouldn't of slept in that room," Abigail said, "It makes me sick."
That room? Kate thought. She stood, turning from her spot on the stairs. Kate looked past the bathroom, past the master bedroom. She focused on the room where she had slept. The dark wood of the door looked jet black in the dimly lit hallway.
"Abigail I'm sorry," Richard said. He continued to try and comfort his sobbing sister.
Kate stepped into the hallway. She began walking back to her room. The same thing happened to daddy. Abigail's words played out in her mind. The hall felt longer, narrower than it did before. The green floral pattern of the wallpaper ran together, after a while it became dizzying. Kate could feel her heart beating in her chest as she got closer to the room.
Kate reached the door. She turned her head back and forth, looking down the hall. Light was pouring up into the hallway from the staircase. It suddenly seemed like a much more pleasant place to be.
Kate reached her hand out, aiming for the door handle.
The door was open. Less than an inch.
I just closed this, she thought.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Adrenaline dumped into Kate's bloodstream.
She snapped her head back toward the staircase. Nothing. She looked further down the hall in the opposite direction. Did I hear something? Kate shook her head, No.
She pushed the door in front of her open. It opened slow. Inch by inch the room was revealed. First, the round little window, underneath it sat the bed she had spent the night in, next came the black enameled dresser, her suitcase sitting on top. The rocking chair was next. The closet finally came into view.
There was a small whistling noise coming from the window. The cool breeze outside was pushing itself through some unseen crevice. Kate fumbled her hand along the wall, looking for the light switch, unwilling to remove her eyes from the closet door. She found it.
The light in the center of the room clicked on. The shadows of the hallway deepened. Kate stepped into the room quickly, another shiver coming over her. She shut the door behind her.
Kate sat down on the end of the bed. She stared at the black slatted closet door.
She found her attention drawn to the crosses, one on either side of the door. Christ was crying, the crown of thorns digging into his scalp, blood running down his face. His body was covered in lacerations.
Kate stood up. She crossed to the closet door. She grabbed the handle, turned the knob, and pulled it open.
Kate felt her breath leave her.
She was staring into nothingness, a great abyss.
The whistling noise from the window stopped.
Kate heard a creaking noise behind her. The sound of wood rolling against wood, back and forth.
She was too afraid to turn away from the gaping maw that was the closet. She knew that, if she averted her eyes, some unseen predator would leap at her, carry her off into the darkness with its talons.
There was a chain. Kate reached out and pulled it. The closet lit up with light; It was empty.
The closet was empty.
It was wood paneled from top to bottom. A beam for hanging clothes ran on either side of the enclosed space. Kate looked up. There was a single rafter, a holdout from the time the room was part of the attic.
There was a sudden noise. Kate felt her heart leap in her chest. She spun towards the rocking chair. It was still. Her phone was ringing in her purse.
"Damnit," Kate said. She was embarrassed, even though no one was present.
The tension fell from her body. She leaned against the open doorway of the closet. She reached into her purse and found her phone. She answered the call.
"Hello?" Kate asked, "Dana?"
"Hi Kate," a familiar voice said over the phone, "This is Victoria."