Erik woke in the late afternoon. His hand was sore and his back hurt from the lumpy mattress. Groaning he threw his legs off the bed and stood. Raising his hand to his face he removed his mask which he had fallen asleep wearing; it was quite uncomfortable, and blinked in the bright sun.
For the first time Erik truly looked around the room he was in; it was ridiculously dilapidated. Pieces of the ceiling were falling down and the plaster on the walls was chipping.
Erik shook his head; it would take a long time to make all the repairs to the house to make it livable again. Heading downstairs; Erik forgot to skip the step that creaked and this time, not only did it creak, it gave way entirely and Erik's leg went through the step up to his knee, causing him to fall backwards,
He cursed as wood cut into his skin and tore his leg apart. Erik had fallen back and was now sitting on the step above the one his leg had fallen through. He tried to pull his leg back up through the step, but it was too painful.
"Wonderful," Erik murmured, and he closed his eyes; he had to pull his leg out or he would be stuck there to bleed. Standing as best he could, Erik took a deep breath and braced himself. With a mighty tug and a loud scream he jerked his leg free.
Looking down he noted that his trousers were torn and blood was spilling from certain spots. He also had no doubt that there were many tiny wooden splinters lodged in his leg,
Sighing, he limped out into the kitchen. He rolled up what was left of his trouser leg and began to doctor himself.
Then there was a knock at the door,
"Oh, what the hell," Erik cursed, "Who could that possibly be?" he did not think Nadir would come to the house yet, so who else was there?
"Hello?" a man's voice called, "Is anyone in there?"
Erik did not say anything; who ever he was he did not want to talk to him, and he certainly did not want anyone to see him with out his mask on,
"I heard someone new moved in here," the man continued good naturedly, "My wife and I wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,"
"Hello!" a woman's voice called, "I made you a pie; if you are in there,"
"My name is Elliot Davis, this is my wife Evette," the man called, then he spoke in a lower voice to his wife, "I don't think anyone is there,"
"Must have left already," Evette stated glumly, "It would not be the first time,"
"No, I don't think anyone is going to live in this house for too long; I am just going to look into the window,"
Erik looked up and saw that he was staring at the overgrown front lawn through a window, and before he could move the face of Elliot Davis appeared,
"Oh my God!" he yelled as he saw Erik's bloody leg; he ran away from the window,
"Probably scared of my face," Erik grumbled; but he was wrong, because a moment later Elliot and Evette Davis burst through his front door,
"What happened?" Elliot Davis crouched down to get a better look at Erik's leg,
Erik was too stunned to respond for a moment, then he realized that the Davis man was staring straight at him with a concerned expression in his eyes,
"I fell through the stairs," Erik responded, and it had not occurred to him how idiotic an incident it was until he said it out loud,
"Well, that can happen in an old house like this," Elliot Davis said in an understanding voice, "Do you have anything to make a tourniquet out of?"
Erik had been thinking about this ever since he sat down at the kitchen table and he still had no idea what he had to use to make a bandage out of,
"Here…" Evette Davis removed a simple shawl from her shoulders and handed it to her husband,
Elliot tied the shawl tightly around Erik's leg. Erik did not like all this; there were two strangers in his house and one of them was touching him, and both of them were looking at him with out his mask on. However, there was a sever pain shooting up and down his leg and his hand was still smarting from the day before. If he tried to take care of himself he would ultimately fail. He had no choice but to trust these people.
The Davis's were not people who looked untrustworthy; Elliot was a tall man in his late forties with sandy brown hair and a ruddy face. His build and his dress reflected the fact that he had worked a farm most of his life. Evette had a kind face and bright blue eyes; she seemed younger than her husband but wise none the less,
"You should lie down," Evette said to Erik, "Elevate the leg,"
Erik had been thinking he needed to lie down; he felt dizzy and his vision was swimming in and out of focus, "All the beds are upstairs," Erik said thickly,
"Is there a sofa down here?" Elliot asked him, and his worry for his new neighbor increased as he watched the man's face, which was pale and gruesome to begin with, grow even more white,
Erik felt extremely stupid when he realized he had no idea if there was a sofa anywhere in the house; he had never really looked around. When he had scanned the rooms to find the best one for his shrine, all he had done had been to see how dusty the room was, he had not focused on anything inside the room,
"There might be one in the living room," Erik said slowly,
Erik did not see Evette look sidelong at her husband and raise her eyebrows as she went in search of a sofa; she returned a moment later,
"There is one; can you stand?"
Erik struggled to his feet and limped into the other room, collapsing onto the sofa and sending dust flying up off the surface. Erik blinked his eyes to try to bring them into focus,
"I will go and get the doctor, it is going to take some time; he lives all the way in town," Elliot said, speaking to both his wife and to his injured neighbor,
"No," Erik moaned from the sofa, "No doctor; you two can leave now," He hated being treated like an invalid
"I will stay here with him," Evette said, completely ignoring Erik's comment,
"I will send Jaimie down to sit with you," Elliot said, turning to leave,
"Tell her to bring water and clean rags with her,"
"I will," Elliot called from the door and then Erik heard him shut it and he was alone with Evette,
"You don't have to stay," Erik said, and he brought his good hand to the marred side of his face, "You should leave,"
"Oh no," Evette said smiling and dropping down into a chair beside the sofa, "You need help…are you hungry? The pie is in the kitchen,"
"No, I don't want anything," Erik said sharply, still hiding his face, however Evette had already stood and was walking back to the kitchen,
Evette Davis bustled around the kitchen, looking for any kind of serving implements. He certainly is a strange fellow, Evette thought as she looked around, for one she saw no sign of moving in; there were no boxes containing any of his things, and for another there was his strange appearance; lay aside the fact that his leg was torn up and his skin was as pale as a sheet; there was something wrong with his face.
He was clearly self conscious about it and Evette was not going to mention it, but it was there none the less. He seemed like a very unhappy man; all alone in the old house. Evette felt pity for him, but there was something unsettling about him as well and she was a bit nervous about spending time alone with him.
In fact, there was something disquieting about the whole house; even in the bright light of day there was a certain feeling in the air which made Evette uncomfortable. This feeling was amplified by the fact that Evette knew a bit about the history of the house…
She found some old, dirty plates and forks which she washed and loaded them with two pieces of pie. Evette returned to her strange neighbor and handed him the plate,
"I am sorry, I do not even know your name," Evette said as she said down again,
"Oh…ah…Erik, Erik Beaumont," He made the name up on the spot,
"Evette Davis," She introduced herself again, "How are you feeling?" she asked gently,
"How do I fell?" Erik said angrily, "My leg was nearly torn off; I feel miserable," Erik was irritated with himself for being foolish enough to allow such an injury and he was taking it out on poor Evette,
"No need to be angry," Evette said in a slightly scolding tone, "I was just trying to be polite,"
"Mother!" another female voice called from the door and Erik groaned; not another visitor,
"In here Jaimie," Evette called, and a moment later a the girl entered the room,
Jaimie Davis was a lovely girl of about seventeen with blond hair and blue eyes. She was the only child of Evette and Elliot and the apple of their eyes.
"Here mother," Jaimie handed Evette rags and a bucket of water, then she turned and regarded the man on the sofa; her father had warned her that he possessed a strange appearance and she must take care not to act appalled when she saw his face, "Hello, my name is Jaimie Davis," she smiled politely,
"Erik Beaumont," Erik responded gruffly, and he did not meet the young woman's kind blue eyes,
Evette moved to wash some of the dried blood off of Erik's leg. It was a very uncomfortable situation for Erik and he hated the gentle touch of the cloth as Evette cleaned his leg,
Jaimie sensed his discomfort and tried to distract him, "You are the first neighbor we have met in this house in years," she said brightly, "I always wanted a large family to move in here, will your family be joining you?"
The good intentioned girl could not have known the pain these words caused poor Erik, but Evette felt him tense at the mention of the word family,
"I don't have any family," Erik said harshly; using an irritated voice to mask the heartbroken feeling he had whenever he was forced to face the fact that he had no mother or father, no brother or sister, and no wife and no children,
"Oh…well…" Jaimie could see the subject of family upset this man and she hunted for something else to say, "It is good to have someone here none the less," she said, desperately trying to save the conversation,
An idea occurred to Erik then and he decided that he would talk to the girl, "Who was the last person who lived here?"
"Oh!" Jaimie's face brightened, realizing she had found something the man would want to talk about, "It was quite awhile ago, but no one ever stays here; they come for a night or so and then they are gone, most leave before we can even meet them,"
"Do they ever say why they leave?" Erik asked, wondering about the music in the room,
"They have never told us but the manager of the estate has told us,"
"Jaimie," her mother cut in sharply,
"No, let her speak please," Erik said, propping himself up and turning slightly to face Jaimie,
Jaimie looked from her mother to Erik and bit her lip. She began twisting a lock of her blond hair as she spoke again, "People say the house is haunted,"