Hi again! I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review my story, I really appreciate all the feedback!Also, I want to apologize for thelong hiatus between updates. As of late my life has become even more eventful than Rachel's, so I gave her an extended vacation. She returned from Vegas broke, hungover, and with a bad attitude, but nonetheless we're back! Enjoy!
Rachel awoke yet again. She had done that so many times in the past few hours that she could no longer distinguish what was a dream and what was not. She would do well to assume that everything she had seen today was a dream. It was all just too unreal. That being said, she did just that when she sat up to find that she was now lying on the floor of her aunt and uncle's bedroom, which had apparently reverted back to its normal form from the nightmarish appearance it had taken on when she last saw it. As a matter of fact, it looked as though it had not been touched in twenty years. The furniture and color scheme were very 70's, right down to the lime-green shag carpet and hideous matching leather chair in the corner.
"Well, they never were ones to keep up with fashion trends," she mused aloud as she continued into the hallway, where a similar décor awaited her. The dark wood-panel walls were adorned with assorted yard sale artwork, including a handful of framed pieces containing verses from the Bible. Rachel studied them with mixed emotions. Her aunt had always been very religious, while her uncle seemed to have no opinion on the matter whatsoever. She herself had never really been into religion too much; she had had one too many prayer go unanswered for that. Only now did she feel guilty for feeling that way, though.
"Okay, I could do without this…" She continued down the hall, peering inside each room and confronting the bittersweet memories contained in each one. At the end of the hall, two final rooms awaited her exploring eyes, one of which, the bathroom door, was closed and apparently locked. She could not remember that door ever having been locked; her uncle had even taken the extra measure of taping the lock button down when she was a child so she could not lock herself inside. She stared bewildered at the doorknob for a time before turning back, when she caught a glimpse inside the room across the hall; her old childhood bedroom. Strangely enough, it looked as though it had not been touched in twenty years. Everything-the bed, furniture, even the clothes in the closet, were all child-sized. These things had certainly not been here when she left for college, but then again, she did not put it past her aunt to completely refurnish the room in such a sentimental fashion. One thing that she saw, however, did not fit into the scheme.
"What's this…?" On the bedside dresser was a well-worn textbook entitled Elements of Criminal Investigation. She remembered this book well from her college days. She had sat for hours and read every chapter in it, well beyond the current class assignment. With a nostalgic smile she picked up the book and opened the front cover. On the inside of the cover was a hand-written note:
Rachel,
Best of luck at the university! I love you as if you were my real sister. Here's to you!
Claudia
"Claudia…?" She had no idea why, but that name sounded so familiar. She stood there and stared at the writing until it all blurred together into one large dark blob on the white page. All of a sudden, she was distracted by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She checked the caller ID. Much to her shock, it was her aunt and uncle's old phone number. In other words, whoever was calling her was inside the house right now. Doubtfully she answered, "…Hello?"
"Rachel…" a small, timid child's voice whimpered.
"Who is this?"
"Hurry, Rachel. We c…rt w…out…ou. Th…ri…l…nning…" The entire message was obscured by a loud static interference that eventually cut off the transmission. Alarmed, Rachel switched off the phone and stood for several moments, staring blankly at the wall. After a time something posessed her to walk into the hall outside. She didn't even draw her weapon this time; she didn't sense any danger. She looked down one end of the hall and then down the other, where she saw something even more unexpected. At the opposite end of the hall near the stairs stood a small girl, no older than 7. The most outstanding feature about her was her skin-she was so pale she almost looked translucent, like a ghost, with hair to match. She wore a black, somewhat antiquated dress that accentuated her fair features. Unsure of what else to do, Rachel approached her.
"Hi," she said awkwardly, kneeling beside her. "What's your name?"
The girl looked at her with eyes almost as colorless as her skin, but said nothing. She didn't have to say anything; Rachel was almost certain of the answer.
"You're Claudia, aren't you?"
In a very deliberate motion, the girl looked away from her and down the stairs, which she descended, and Rachel followed after her. Upon reaching the first floor, she saw him again, that mysterious black-clad man standing in the middle of the living room, facing away from her as always.
"You!" she shouted. "Get the hell out of my house!"
The man remained silent, and held out a hand to his side, which the small girl immediately scampered over to take hold of, and the pair walked to the open front door. Rachel drew her weapon.
"Stop or I'll shoot!"
The man and the girl proceeded to walk outside and in the direction of Alexia's car, an old silver Towncar that was parked on the street. During the arrangements following her aunt's death, Rachel had debated what she would do with it. One thing she was certain of though, she would be damned if this guy was going to get anywhere near any of her aunt's belongings. The man led the girl to the passenger side door of the car, and Rachel raised her gun. She had numerous qualms about shooting a person in front of a child, but this was an extreme circumstance.
"Bastard!" A single gunshot rang through the empty street, and a spattering of tattered black fabric burst outward as the bullet struck him in the back. The man, however, did not even flinch, nor did the child, and the pair got in the car. As it pulled away from the curb, a frantic Rachel raised her gun again and fired off several wild shots at the car in a vain attempt to pop its tires. She kept firing even as it disappeared around the corner until the hollow click of the empty clip prompted her to fall defeatedly to her knees on the sidewalk. The empty magazine fell from her pistol to the concrete, and soon she joined it, curling up in a ball on the ground and staring into nothingness, too weak to do much else.
She figured she must have fallen asleep-or passed out from exhaustion-when she awoke later to find that it was now after dark. Not only that, a dense fog had settled in, as had an unseasonably chill breeze. Rachel got to her feet and turned to the house, which was unlit and barely stood out against the gloomy backdrop. It didn't even look the same, but she reminded herself that no one lived there now. That was until she noticed a light go on in an upstairs window, the bathroom window to be more specific. Recovering quickly from her fatigue, she dashed to the front door and nearly dislocated her shoulder yanking on it, only to find it locked. Thinking quickly, she sprinted the perimeter of the house, checking each first floor window only to find they were all shut as well. That was when she spotted the trellis that ascended the side of the house, directly up to the bathroom window. Without hesitation she started to scale it, not particularly concerned that the weathered wood might not be able to support her weight for very long. Once she reached the window, she peered inside cautiously, only to see something that shocked her so badly she nearly fell backwards.
"Aunt Alexia?" Indeed her beloved late aunt was apparently alive and well, and preparing for a bath. Rachel watched befuddled as she drew the bath water and took off her robe, hanging it on the doorknob before returning to the tub. Painstakingly she added bubble bath to the water, unaware that she was being watched-by someone other than Rachel as well. Rachel gasped silently when she saw the man in black enter the room. It was the first time she had seen him face to face-so to speak, as his face consisted of a black void beneath the brim of his hat. Without a sound he reached inside his trench coat, pulling out a large crescent wrench as he crept up behind Alexia.
"No! Get out!" Rachel's scream went unnoticed by both parties, and she watched helplessly as the man struck the woman in the head full force with the wrench. She fell forward and landed face first in the water, sending sudsy water flying everywhere. Some of it splattered on the window, but Rachel still had a painfully clear view of what happened next. Alexia raised herself up out of the water, looking stunned and then terrified when she saw the crimson-hued water she had surfaced from. She felt of the back of her head, only to quickly withdraw a bloody hand from a gaping blunt-force wound. She started to turn around when she was halted by a towel wrapped around her throat from behind, twisted increasingly tight as she struggled against her attacker. Her struggles soon subsided, and she surrendered to the immobility of unconsciousness-or possibly death. Calm as always, the mysterious man concluded by hoisting the inert woman into the tub, dropping her with a callous splash. Then he raised his faceless head to the window, where Rachel was still in plain view. She clung for dear life to the trellis as he reached over to raise the window.
"Who are you…?" she whispered, choked by barely contained rage. "Tell me, you son of a bitch!"
The man hesitated for several heart-pounding seconds. His eventual response was to lower his head and remove his hat, revealing a head of unremarkable light brown hair. It was only when he raised his head that she received the biggest shock yet.
"Oh my God…Uncle Leonard…?"
The old man smiled, a cold, disturbing smile. "How nice of you to drop by, Rachel Lynne." With that, he calmly reached out the window and gave the trellis a push. The weakened wood easily snapped away from its fasteners and fell away from the house, taking Rachel with it. Fortunately her brain shut down before she hit the ground.
