Chapter 6: Homecoming

I sped down the freeway; my heart was racing thousands of time faster than normal, and my forehead was perspiring like mad. I was scared shitless now, and for some reason-- whatever it was, for I was unsure, Matthew had been taken away from me, and there was no way whatsoever to bring him back to me-- at least not yet…

What had happened to him…? What the fuck had happened to him…? Someone-- someone or something had taken him, and that someone had taken him from right under my nose. No. That was simply ludicrous; that was something directly out of a faerie story or something that only a dunce would take seriously… People didn't just vanish without a trace like that-- but that was a downright lie. Who was I fooling? It was actually a little surprising that it hadn't happened sooner to the person who was closest to me in life. I was breathing hard and heavy from all of the stress and anger coursing through my veins… I needed to somehow calm myself. I needed to clear my head, but there simply was not enough time for anything like that… In my world, there never seemed to be.

I made a sharp right turn, and onto a residential street; I didn't even bother to slow down, even though I was now going ten miles over the speed limit; for whatever reason, the cops were too busy eating donuts or something to bust me for speeding. Bless them. And besides, nothing mattered right now. I had to get back to my hometown, and I had to reenter the house that I had once called home again-- hopefully for the last time. REHtoMna obviously had something in store for me there-- maybe I would be able to find safety…

I stole a glance behind me. For some reason, I had the distinct impression that I was being followed by something although my senses told me to stop overanalyzing things, and to stop seeing demons in every corner, and, once again, I chose to utterly ignore my senses… I was acting crazy…

Or was I…? Now, I was unsure. There was no way to tell. Not now-- not yet…

As I continued the drive that seemed to become more and more frightening with each mile, I became more and more petrified… Something awful was going to happen to him right now. That was for damn sure. Something was happening to him right now. Something had happened to him right now. No, Beatrice, a voice hissed in the back of my head, You're acting paranoid. Matthew will be fine.

I was being delirious now. I was losing my senses; I kept on thinking the same things over and over again in my head, almost as if expecting everything to turn out a tad bit better for me. But that simply wouldn't-- couldn't happen now… I was too deeply submerged into whatever was happening around me.

Everything had taken a great turn for the worse-- and so very suddenly too. That's what was so strange about it all.

How I wished it would only turn out to be just another crazy dream…

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It was not a dream, however… It wasn't too surprising, but nonetheless, I kept the ray of hope that it might turn out to be one in the end.

At long last-- nearly twenty minutes after I had left the river, my car came to a complete stop once again in the driveway of my old house; thinking again, I pulled the car out, and parked it on the side of the house to avoid suspicion. I opened my door, and stepped out into the moonlight again, not too keen on being here again; the old FOR SALE sign that I had seen a couple years ago was still there, meaning that no one had been brave or stupid enough to purchase the place. More ivy had grown in the last few years, and was now creeping up to the windows of the house-- almost strangling it, and now I realized why my father had done his best to keep the growth "under control." The paint-job of the house that had seemed so beautiful ages ago was now fading, and as I stood on the front-stoop, I realized that the door was falling apart as well; the house had obviously gone to shambles. That was for sure; I was actually horrified in a way, when I noticed the number of shingles from the roof now lying scattered about on the yellowing grass of the front-lawn... It was like a haunted house from some horror flick-- something from a faraway dream, and it filled me with utter foreboding at the notion of actually entering the place after so very long-- after all, three years ago, when I had reentered the earth through the portal in my old attic, I had stayed within the house for as short an amount of time as humanly possible before leaving again-- there had been too many good memories, good and bad then, and there were too many memories now. I dreaded opening that door again. This place had once been so very beautiful, and now it had aged and changed; becoming decrepit and scary. It was now the spook house that no neighborhood child would dare to venture near on Halloween. I sensed that the house had already become a legend among the citizens of the town-- it was only practical, after all.

Echoes of faraway imaginary voices spoke in my mind: "That's where it happened. That's where the murder happened, and that's where that little Horowitz girl and her stepmother disappeared forever."

I shivered in the cold wind, and placed my hand upon the doorknob, determined not to chicken out, or have a panic attack. I had to do this, after all, and it was now or never. The house beckoned me inside, and yet warned me to run away from it all at the same time.

I went to turn the knob… and nothing happened; it remained frozen in its position.

Well, it wasn't too surprising. The realtors who now controlled every aspect of the house-- including the allowance of it falling into disrepair had probably had it locked up to ensure that no one would be able to break in lest he or she shatter a window, and jump inside on a dare. I laughed my uneasiness off, and then fell to my knees, remembering what had always lain right beneath the doormat in case of emergency in secret.

My hands searched beneath the graying mat for a few seconds before pulling out a very small piece of metal that suddenly caused such a sudden wave of memories that I actually burst into tears. My father's words from long ago echoed in my mind, as calmly and soothingly as they had spoken the words over a decade before: "If anything happens to Mom or me, you'll know where this is, and you'll be able to get into the house safely, and phone the police if need be." I held the key close to my eyes, and realized that although it had once been silver and perfect; years of disuse had caused it to become rusted. How strange it was that even a simple thing such as this would send me into a great flood of tears, when Matthew's disappearance had not. It was almost as if, subconsciously, I was trying my very best to convince myself that he was somehow safe wherever he was, although I could not be even fifty percent sure.

I stood once again on two trembling legs as the stone around my neck glowed for the first time that night; almost reassuring me that I would not find danger or death within the house that had caused me so much grief after my mother's death.

"Okay," I whispered, clutching the key very tightly, "I'm ready."

I hope those stupid bastards didn't have the locks changed as well, I thought, being overly persnickety, as I inserted the key into the small keyhole, and to my surprise, was able to turn it into the knob. The door had unlocked; I breathed in a sigh of relief, and pushed the door open, taking a step inside, closing the door soundly shut behind me, and then making sure to lock it again to ensure that no one would join me.

On tiptoes, I ventured further inside, almost as if concerned that I would somehow awaken my slumbering parents-- although that was, of course, utterly impossible. It was strange, but for some morbid reason-- whatever it was, I felt good to be home at long last.