Chapter 1

Home Sweet Home

Emma stared at the seemingly endless amount of trees passing by her rain splattered cab window, thinking how long it might be before she finally arrived at her new home. After the sleepless nine-hour flight to London Heathrow and the three-hour train ride into the countryside of absolute nowhere, she was sadly wide awake. It might've been the nerves keeping her up, but mostly she just believed she was unlucky and this whole trip was cursed. On the flight she'd been forced to sit next to Ryan Nearby, who was an old college acquaintance of hers. She'd had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting Ryan on a study abroad trip to London and everyone else on the trip bonded over their mutual animosity towards him. Out of all the seats, on all the flights, he had to psychically seek her seat out amongst the rest and choose the one right next to it. When he wasn't being a culturally insensitive prick and trying to flex his many accomplishments since they'd last met, he was blissfully asleep. Lucky bastard…

Despite Ryan and the other fresh airport hell she'd had to endure on her journey, the train ride had been peaceful, and she was finding the cab ride even more so. Emma's mind was a little more at ease then it had been before, however, she remained in a tense state of alertness. She was still heading into the danger of the unknown. It'd been the most bizarre thing to ever happen to her miserable and bleak life. A few weeks prior, Emma had received a letter in the mail stating her long-lost relatives, the Heelshires, had died and she was to inherit their mansion in the countryside of England. Although, she was rather skeptic of the whole thing considering her mother and father both claimed to have never heard of them, she'd booked the trip later that night. She'd found that she had a strong desire to get away from civilization after certain life events gone wrong. Flee the country. She didn't care how. She was only grateful that salvation had manifested itself in some way before she did something even crazier.

"So, were the Heelshires a nice family? Did you ever meet them?" Emma asked the driver, curiously. She was suddenly in the mood to talk with someone after the realization she'd not talked to a single soul since saying goodbye to Ryan.

"They were a relatively nice family. I only met them once or twice before they died. I drove their last nanny up and, a few months later, they kicked the bucket. That was about two years ago now…" the driver replied, shockingly casual, considering the subject matter. Emma wanted to question him about the nanny. He surely must've meant nurse. From what she'd managed to find out about the Heelshires online is that they were an elderly couple when they committed suicide. Their only son had died in a fire when he was young.

The car suddenly stopped before she could ask him any more about them. "—Here we are then."

They'd arrived in the driveway of a large stone manor. Emma got out and took in the sights, while the driver removed her various suitcases and bags from the trunk. The grounds were clearly lacking a certain upkeep. Hedges that were once neatly cut splayed out in an aesthetically overgrown way. Bred flowers with particular care instructions had died from not being kept, while wildflowers and weeds ran rampant. The place still managed to have a menacingly desolate atmosphere. Emma opened the door, with an old-fashioned key that had been crudely taped to the original letter, and surely enough it actually worked.

They lugged the bags in together. The inside of the Heelshire mansion screamed old English wealth and refinement in every way. They were greeted by dark wooden walls and intricate floral carpets. There was surely a library with such boring and somehow still ridiculous titles from floor to ceiling. Emma also imagined there to be a room specifically for entertaining large parties that was mostly empty with the purpose of catering as a dancefloor and place to chatter.

"Woah…" She couldn't help but mumble aloud. It was baffling to think that any of this belonged to her. This surely couldn't be real.

"Yeah, it's always been a lovely place. Shame it's so far out." the driver added, setting her other bags down by the pile she'd started in the middle of the foyer. He suddenly rummaged in his pocket and handed her a slip of paper. "Here, I've got the grocer's number for ya'. It'll be too much of a hassle for ya' to walk to town so often. The Heelshire's always arranged for a food delivery once a week."

"Thank you so much! I'll be sure to call them right away." Emma exclaimed. She hadn't realized until he said it, but her stomach was in an angry rumble.

"Cheers, love—Give me a ring too the next time you need a lift."

Emma waved farewell and shut the doors. Finally alone. However, she didn't truly feel alone. The house was still very much alive in many ways. People could've easily been living in it up till yesterday. A little dusty in a few spots, but it looked to be a place not long since forgotten. The oak furniture was still shiny and polished and even the plants looked to be lush and green. Emma peered into various rooms. Dining room. A private study filled with books and a large library. There was even a billiards room. She wandered into the kitchen and her stomach growled to remind her that she'd better call the grocer now or else. Her cell got very poor reception, but thankfully she managed to call the number the cab driver gave her. After explaining her situation, the grocer said he'd send one of his guys up as soon as he possibly could. About an hour at most. Apparently, the Heelshire's had paid the local store so much in advance they still had a lot of credit there. Emma sighed with the relief that she'd soon have more in her stomach then a bag of chips and went back to the foyer to grab her things. Time to go up and unpack.

There were many rooms to choose from, but ultimately she chose the one with the beautiful four-poster bed. It looked like the resting place of a Victorian era princess. There was even a water jug for washing, despite the fully functional bathroom across the hall. Emma hoisted her large, checked bag on top of the seat at the end of the bed and began to unpack the many storage cubes worth of clothes. Suddenly, after about an hour of tedious organizing, she heard the doorbell ring. After briefly checking her appearance at the vanity, and instantly being disgusted by the bags under her eyes, she walked unenthusiastically to answer the door. Hopefully, it'd be fine. The owner of the store said one of his 'guys', but honestly what were the chances he'd be sending a cute guy. How many cute guys worked in small town grocery stores? She opened the door and nearly jumped at the sight of two massive brown paper bags concealing where a man's head may or may not be. Emma tried to peer around at him, but not be insanely obvious.

"Mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure!—I'm sorry." Emma mumbled. She took one of the bags and led him towards the kitchen. Finally, setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Emma got her first real look at the delivery boy. He was tall and incredibly lanky, but his features weren't terrible. His dark hair looked really soft, and his face was far too young to be hidden away by the thin beard he was growing. She tried not to regard him too much and quickly busy herself with unpacking the food. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"It was no problem really." he added. Emma nodded her appreciation, still trying not to look at him. However, she hadn't the faintest clue where to put anything. She was frantically looking around the room clutching a tub of butter. Did the fridge even work? Was the power on in any part of the house, for that matter? Thankfully, he noticed her distress and was not cruel, "Would you like some help?"

"That would be amazing! You're a lifesaver." she exclaimed, going a little overboard with cheer. The exhaustion must've finally been kicking in. Regardless, he started unpacking everything onto the counter. There was a silent minute before she realized this would probably be their situation every week. He might very well be her only form of human interaction. It'd be best to introduce herself. "I'm Emma."

"Paul." he replied, simply. They shook hands and suddenly everything felt a little more relaxed between them. Emma was pleasantly surprised. Usually she could hack at awkward air with a hacksaw, and it wouldn't do a damn thing. She wondered if he felt the same way or was still walking on eggshells. "You know, I was a bit concerned when my boss handed me the delivery. Thought he was pulling my leg."

"Why?"

"Well, ever since the Heelshires passed, this place has been uninhabitable." Paul explained. He sounded a bit surprised. Nearly everyone in town knew about the Heelshire's tragic story. Although, the American accent was one of the first things he noticed about her, it still was baffling him. How could she move here and not know what everyone else was saying? "Some bigshot realtors tried to fix up the place a little two years ago, with intent on putting it back on the market, but they ended up running out on the project."

"Really? I mean, I haven't seen all of it yet, but it doesn't quite scream condemnable."

"They say that it's haunted."

"Isn't every big house in the middle of nowhere haunted in some respect, according to Steven King and every horror movie ever created?" Emma laughed, sarcastically.

"It's just what I've heard around the watering hole. I don't really believe in all that paranormal shite—do you?"

"Not usually…" she replied. However, her thoughts came back to the whole 'alive' feeling the house seemed to have. Before Paul got there, she still didn't feel that she was alone. Emma shook the slightly paranoid thoughts from her mind. "—Well, it looks like everything is in somewhat more of an order now. I appreciate the extra assistance."

"No worries." Paul answered, wiping his hands off for good measure. He headed towards the back-kitchen door. "See you next week then?"

"If I'm still alive by then that is!" Emma added, doing her best impression of something ghostly and sinister. He cracked a small smile and waved her goodbye.

Emma sighed and cursed herself for her stupidity as she watched him walk back towards his car. It was starting again. One insignificant conversation and a quick smile and suddenly she was helpless. This would not end well. She had a rotten streak with men a mile long at least, with her latest heartbreak being about a week before she left and the main reason why she decided to fly halfway around the world. Emma returned upstairs with the intent on trying to call her best friend, Hannah, to talk her down from this sudden boy crazy hysteria she thought the countryside isolation would beat out of her. She was passing down the hall at a significant pace, when suddenly she backtracked. In her haste to pick a room, she'd missed a closed door. Maybe it was even better than the one she had chosen. However, after opening the door it was apparent this room belonged to someone else.

The room was covered with tin toys on every shelf and varieties of stuffed mohair bears. Emma had spent most of her college years working in a vintage toy store downtown. The bosses were a bitter and ancient couple who clung too harshly to the old ways. They would've blown a gasket if they'd seen this room. To think that a parent would allow their kids such nice, fragile toys. They operated under a strict notion that toys were not meant for kids. Emma hated them for that and only took little guilt in wishing they would just die already. They'd also often yell at her for slacking off when she was doing something they'd assigned her to do five minutes ago, and they'd promptly forgot about. One time they caught her playing unauthorized piano music in the store to try and ease the customers who complained about the dead silence, and screamed at her when they thought no one else was around. A customer who'd heard the yelling and rushed out even came back later to see if she was okay. It'd been that bad. She lied and said she was perfectly fine. Emma had already been using a portion of her limited bathroom breaks to cry her eyes out long before this upsetting incident.

Emma thought seeing all these old toys might drudge up those bad memories again and ruin them for her. She'd need to board up this room. Sell the toys on eBay with little regret to their original owner. However, thankfully, she felt no animosity towards them and made sure she didn't disturb anything as she looked around at the little museum of nostalgic trinkets. This was the Heelshire's son's room, surely. It was remarkably kept, considering he'd been dead for so much longer. Emma scanned over the herds of lions and army of tin soldiers, carefully, until she heard something. She'd been careful not to wind anything up, despite how curious she was, and it didn't sound like metal anyway. She thought she'd heard a faint little knock on the wood. She looked around the room, but didn't find a toy out of place or any other possible sources. However, she noticed an odd thing sitting in the rocking chair. A boy.

Not a real one, thankfully. It was just a doll. If not for her previous experience in the toy shop, this probably would've frightened her a little more. She found his presence more peculiar, than anything else. The other toys made sense, but what would a young boy want with this delicate, porcelain doll? She didn't want to be pushing outdated gender norms on this poor dead kid, however, judging the rest of the room he wouldn't be bothered with a doll. The porcelain boy had a letter in his lap, tied with scarlet red ribbon. It was addressed to her.

Dear Emma,

It is unfortunate to have to meet you this way. We're extremely sorry that we never could face you when we were still alive. The manor is yours now and we hope you will enjoy living here. Enclosed in this letter there are certain house rules we hope you will stick too, even though we are gone. It would mean so much to us if our home were to live on, as it has been in the family for generations. Our final gift to you is Brahms. We hope you will love and care for him in our absence. If you're good to him, he'll be good to you.

The next page was the list of rules:

1. No Guests

2. Never Leave Brahms Alone

3. Leave Meals in Freezer

4. Never Cover Brahms Face

5. Read a Bedtime Story

6. Play Music Loud

7. Clean the Traps

8. Only Malcolm Brings Deliveries DELIVERY BOYS STAY OUTSIDE. FORBIDDEN!

9. Brahms is Never to Leave

10. Kiss Goodnight

"Oi, most of these rules are about you, little troublemaker—And what sort of vendetta do you have against the grocery guy? Maybe this Malcom was a slime ball, but the new one is rather cute." Emma added, eyeing Brahms haughtily. She had a slightly childish and emotional connection to toys, but this was too much, even for her. "I didn't come here to be your babysitter, Brahms. I came here—"

Suddenly, a little clown in a pinstripe costume came crashing down on her from a high shelf. His body was stuffed but his face was also made of a painted porcelain. Emma rubbed the sore spot, cursing, and bent to pick him up. He jingled innocently as she placed him temporarily on the dresser. Brahms was staring at her with his large glass eyes, watching her as she worked. They were supposed to be emotionless and empty, but something within them screamed sadness and anger. Emma got caught up in them for a brief moment, before quickly disregarding him, and excusing herself from the room. She ditched the letter on the bed and raced down the hallway with the fastest speed-walk she could muster. Clearly, what Paul had said was getting to her a little too much and she needed to get some rest.

After a speedy shower, Emma was finally the good combination of both clean and tired. She finally was able to sooth her stomach's desperate stabs for attention and wolfed down two grilled cheeses in about five minutes flat. Emma had completely forgotten all her previous woes and was ready to sink into a deep slumber, by the time she climbed into the large four-poster bed. She'd fallen immediately asleep.

Unfortunately, she didn't stay that way.

Emma's jetlag woke her suddenly in the dead of the night, her body clearly thinking it was another time. She was wide awake, despite only getting about three hours of sleep. Quickly getting over the slight fear of waking up in an unfamiliar location, she rationed that there were a couple options available to her in this moment. Lay in the dark and pray she might be able to go back to sleep eventually. Go down to the library and find a book to read until she felt tired again. Find where Paul put the hot chocolate and get the kettle going. Try to last until morning seemed like the better way to try and get herself on the right schedule. Once Emma retrieved her pocket flashlight from under her pillow and threw on a sweater, she ventured into the silence of the night, down to the kitchen. Despite finding the silence quite eerie and wanting desperately to play a jaunty Broadway musical jingle from her playlist of many to dissipate it, she did her best to be as quiet as possible. The house was obviously sleeping, even if Emma was not. She settled on a cup of breakfast tea, hoping the caffeine would help her once the feeling of being 'too awake' eventually faded. Sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, cuddled in a sweater with a cup of something warm, it was hard not to feel comforted. In this little moment, she didn't have to worry about the problems she'd left behind and how they might be chasing after her to threaten this new life. However, the moment didn't last.

There was another tap. A little checking knock. Another faint sound that threatened her lonely peace and foretold impending doom and imminent danger. Thankfully, the kitchen came with the best stockade of possible weaponry. Although she really wasn't sure how knives and rolling pins might help against the only suspects she had for her assailants. Ghosts. What Paul said about the manor kept dredging back up, despite how much she tried to bury it. But, why would the Heelshire's haunt her, after inviting her to live in their home? The knock transformed into a little click. Someone was opening the front door. However, Emma was so struck with shock she didn't move. She knew it was a bad move when she could've at least tried to hide herself under the kitchen table first. The dark figure's head automatically turned towards the light emanating from the kitchen. Whoever it was, froze completely solid at the sight of her as well. They were both waiting for the other to speak first.

"Burglar or spirit—which are you?" Emma gained the courage to ask the figure. At the sound of her voice, the figure tilted its head with curiosity.

"Neither." they mumbled softly.

Then, they walked closer and stepped into the light.