Chapter 2: Lillian the hunted

Part 2: the story of death

Case file #67

May 7th, 1974

Chicago Illinois, Johnson family home

Update 7:57pm ~

The youngest of the Johnson children, Teddy, has left the house, leaving Lorraine and I with Heather and her mother. We have both agreed their actions are quite worrying, though that in and of itself is not proof of a haunting. I am, however, worried about Lorraine who seems to be affected by whatever resides in the home. Yet even as I write this she insists there is no need to worry about her but rather the task at hand.

You can't fight me. You're just a child. Your brother gets to go off with his friends and you're stuck here being a FREAK. The girl with ghosts and no friends. They are all thinking it, so it's time you accept it now that no one will love you.

Heather banged her hand against her head, as if that would somehow physically stop her thoughts. But they weren't her thoughts really. Though the words weren't spoken aloud, Heather could hear them like whispers infiltrating her mind, stopping at nothing to convince her they were real. The young girl knew she had to fight them and she desperately wanted to believe in Ed and Lorraine's ability to save her family. Yet she couldn't help but feel the words rung true. She was scared of having to hunt for a ghost and she was moreover petrified at the thought of letting everyone down if she couldn't stay strong. Heather felt like a freak and her brother's ability to adjust to their new life only seemed to solidify it more. She saw the look her mother gave her when talking about Teddy's new friends, and it made Heather feel as though there was something wrong with her. It wasn't for lack of trying, however. The more Heather reached out to her old friends, her boyfriend or the kids at school, the lonelier she felt.

Why don't you do us all a favor and-

Knock knock knock.

The sound cut off Heather's whispering thoughts, sending them scattering to the back of her mind. The young girl didn't get much of a reprieve though as they were soon replaced by a familiar sinking feeling. The very feeling she felt when the Warren's first arrived.

This time however she swallowed them down, pushing herself off her bed. She just had to keep reminding herself the only way out was through.

Heather wasn't sure what she had been expecting upon meeting the Warren's technician and researcher, but Drew definitely wasn't it. Barely making it down the stairs, the young girl was met by a baby- faced, smiling boy not much older than herself.

"Hiya! You must be Heather!" the boy bubbled as he struggled to pull a large case through the doorway.

Heather didn't have to bother answering because at that moment Ed ran up and grabbed the case from his hands.

"It's good that you're here, Drew," the man hesitated, sharing a knowing look. "We have some serious work to do,"

With Teddy now gone, gleefully running out the door with a suitcase half full of toys for him and his new friend to play with, it was just Heather and her mother who once again sat in the kitchen to listen to what Drew had found.

"I started with a call to the Chicago Historical Society. Of course they were reluctant to talk to me at first but what can I say, I got skills!" Drew beamed, as he flicked through a notebook. Clearly proud of himself.

"And what did they say?" Lorraine's voice was stern but a small smile creeped at the edge of her lips.

"I'm glad you asked! because at first a whole lot of nothing, BUT- " animatedly Drew pointed his finger at Ed who had opened his mouth to speak. "When I pressed further the lovely Susan dug up some old news articles involving the house. And boy I gotta say it's gruesome."

Heather's heart sank, her stomach felt as though she was on a roller coaster. Somehow she knew the story that was going to come next, her nightmares flashing in her mind like a hazy memory. "Is there a girl…?" Heather dared to ask, her voice barely above a murmur.

Drew looked up from his notes, startled. "Yeah actually, how did you-" his voice trailed off as he looked around at the expectant faces of the group. "Yah know what, doesn't matter," He laughed awkwardly. "Her name was Lillian Chambers and in 1860 was killed by her mother. The reason given? The mother wanted to sell poor Lillian to a brothel for the money and when she refused to go, well, you know how it ends."

"Oh that's terrible!" Lorraine gasped, her hands absentmindedly reaching up to clutch her locket. Ed's hand found its way to his wife's shoulder and he gave it a comforting squeeze.

But while Heather knew the story should have made her feel sad, she felt the exact opposite. The relief of knowing that what she was experiencing was real far surpassed the sadness.

"Yeah apparently it was quite the scandal in the city as well. Here are some telecopys of the newspaper articles. The police arrested the mother and in a very public execution, hung her In front of the court house. I can't say she didn't have it coming, but I don't know if I'd want to go to one of those things. The celebration and fanfare of death it's just a little too…" Drew rattled on cheerfully but Heather had stopped listening as she examined the articles.

Young daughter slain by deranged mother!

Tragedy strikes the Chamber's home last Fortnite!

The Filicideal Woman! Come watch as she takes her Final breath!

The headlines screamed.

But what really caught Heather's attention was a photograph that accompanied one of the articles. Though it was grainy, Heather instantly recognized the young girl as the one she had been seeing next to her bed. Her breath froze in her lungs as she examined the photo, not sure what she was hoping to find but feeling as if she connected with the girl all the same.

Wide eyes stared back at Heather and as if she was being led, Heather's own eyes fell upon the girl's neck.

Whatever was there, however, was hard to make out and only the faintest outline of a heart was visible through the black and white murkiness.

"Heather?" Lorraine asked gently, causing the girl to jump. "What do you think?"

Looking up to find Lorraine watching her with a curious expression, Heather noddled. "Yeah, this is the girl." she mumbled.

"Do you think that her- her spirit or whatever could be what's causing all of this?" Mrs. Johnson's voice shook a little as she looked up from her own stack of articles.

"Absolutely." Ed affirmed but spared a glance at his wife to make sure.

Sighing, Lorraine nodded, "Judging by the horrible way Lillian was killed I'd say the reason she's here is unfinished business. I've seen it before. But I believe the mother's spirit must be here as well. And with her malicious energy I'm afraid she will be much harder to remove. We will certainly have our work cut out for us."

Heater swallowed nervously but Drew smiled.

"Then let's catch us some ghosts!" he whooped, clapping his hands together.

*

The Warren's and Drew wasted no time setting up, milling back and forth and turning the house into a buzzing beehive full of contraptions that Heather had never seen. Strange Fluorescent lights hung over the stairs, large cameras tangled in strings seemed to be placed in every corner, and jingling bells hung on every door knob.

"Why are you putting a radio in my room?" Heather asked, standing in the doorway.

She had been following Drew around asking questions to keep her nerves at bay, though it only barely seemed to work. Especially when it came to her room. The knot that formed in her stomach anytime someone so much as stepped through her doorway was enough to make her want to vomit. Just as with all the other emotions she was feeling lately this one didn't feel entirely her own, more as if she was a puppet being told how to feel. It unnerved the young girl.

"The radio emits frequencies that spirits can pick up on and use to communicate with us. It's pretty groovy actually." Drew finished as he fiddled with the knobs causing the radio to let out a high pitched whale.

Heather jumped.

"Sorry, my bad!" Drew said, quickly turning the knob in the other direction and throwing a worried glance at the young girl. Heather bristled under the boy's gaze wishing people would stop looking at her as if she were a ticking bomb about to explode. Drew must have picked up on this because he gave Heather a sympathetic smile.

"Come on, let's go to the kitchen and see if we can hear it in the recorder." Throwing his arm over her shoulder, Drew led Heather down the stairs.

The Johnson's kitchen had been turned into a makeshift control room and just like the rest of the house, was strewn with equipment. Every inch of the table that the group had once gathered around was now covered in sound boxes, chunky tv monitors, wires and several crucifixes.

"Sometimes these can elicit a response from negative spirits," Ed had explained as he placed a large cross just above the kitchen door. He must have seen Mrs. Johnson's wide- eyed look of shock though because he then shrugged with a sheepish smile. "Above all they will protect the house and bring in God ourFather to guide the investigation."

With Ed and the rest of the group putting the finishing touches on set- up, Lorraine walked through the house. The woman's fingertips brushed each thing she passed and her pretty face was scrunched as if she were trying to solve a particularly hard math problem. What she was doing Heather didn't know but 15 minutes later Lorraine came back announcing that the living room was the first place to start.

The very idea of ghost hunting terrified the young girl but Heather quickly learned that it wasn't all how it was portrayed in the horror movies she used to go see with her friends. Mostly it was a lot of talking to thin air. Ed had brought a recorder that he waved around while he and Lorraine asked questions and Drew took pictures of the room. Making Heather smile when he rambunctiously started snapping pictures of her, pretending she was a runway model.

"Work it! Yes, strike that pose, ghost hunter chic!" He called to a giggling Heather.

For a moment the young girl felt normal, forgetting her worries and stress. It felt so good to laugh with someone again. Heather hadn't realized how much she missed it.

"Drew," Ed drawled, causing the pair to look up, the laughter fading. Ed's voice was full of warning but his face was soft, reflecting an almost understanding. "Focus, will you."

Even with focusing it didn't seem that any of the spirits were in a chatty mood because after another 30 minutes, Ed called it.

"I still feel an energy in here," I'm sure of it." Lorraine sighed. "They just don't want to communicate. Let's try another room."

It was about 12:30 when the group gathered back in the kitchen. Heather watched as Ed rewound the tape player so they all could have a listen. Having only experienced a few knocks and the faint sound of footsteps, Heather was a bit disheartened. At first the last thing she wanted was to actually catch a ghost, but now with barely any evidence as to what she was experiencing, Heather was beginning to worry that Ed and Lorraine couldn't help her. Or worse, they would stop believing her. After all, they said the church needed proof and that was something that was becoming increasingly hard to provide.

Heather yawned, feeling tired and frustrated.

"Why don't you go lie down for a minute?" Lorraine suggested, once again casting the young girl a look of worry.

Heather tried to argue but was swiftly cut off. "You don't need to be here for this, we'll tell you if we hear something. Come on."

Much with Heather's protest, she was led out of the room by a persistent Lorraine and plopped on the couch.

"It's ok to rest. You need your strength." Lorraine bent down so that she was eye level with the young girl, grabbing her hand gently. "And, it's ok that we haven't found anything yet. Spirits don't always communicate when we want them to. Don't lose hope. We still have a lot of our investigation left."

Heather nodded feeling slightly groggy, and after a satisfied nod herself Lorraine got up and walked back to the kitchen.

Heather watched her go before looking down at her hand. The skin on her palm suddenly becoming red and itchy, the type of burning itch one would get with a mosquito bite. Yawning for the second time, Heather laid down, eyes slipping closed. Her sleepy mind choosing to ignore the faint red outline of a cross appearing on her hand.