Chapter 8: Frostbite

Day Three at the Haunted House

"Rey, why didn't you TELL ME that you thought you got frostbite last night?!" Batista screamed.

Rey blinked sleepily at him. "Yelling at me isn't going to help, Dave."

"ARGH!" Batista roared and ran his fingers manically through his hair.

"What the fuck do you want me to do for you?!" Batista demanded.

"You don't have to do anything," Rey suggested quietly. He was exhausted and didn't want to move out of his bedding. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

All of the guys rushed in because of the racket Dave was making.

"Good morning," Rey said weakly, smiling from where he was on his back.

"Rey didn't tell me until this morning that he thinks the ghost gave him frostbite!" Batista fumed. "And we have no fucking way to help him. "

Punk sighed. "Yes, we do. Go get the first aid kit, Cena."

"On it," Cena said and took off, bursting through the crowd again moments later.

"You don't have to," Rey rasped. "I'm just tired now. I went to bed at one and Dave insisted on waking me up at…"

"Five o'clock in the morning," Triple H said, looking at his watch.

Punk sighed. "Well, how about I take a look at you and make sure you're not hurt? And then you can go back to sleep."

Rey nodded permissively. Punk came and sat down by him.

Punk knew basic first aid and how to treat burns, frostbite, and perform CPR.

"Can you sit up? Or move at all?" he asked Rey.

"I'm kind of…immobile," Rey said weakly.

Punk stared down at him worriedly. "Does anything hurt, Rey?"

"No. I just feel like so much of my energy is just…gone."

"Where did Sylvia touch you that you thought she gave you frostbite, then? I still need to look, just to make sure you're okay like you say."

Rey nodded. "Well…my stomach."

Punk gently took away the blanket and folded back the sleeping bag.

There weren't any marks on Rey's torso.

Rey blinked slowly, drowsy.

"I don't see anything now, Rey. Are you sure you got burned by Sylvia?"

"I'm saying that touching her felt like touching dry ice. It burned. But the pain fades away when you pull away from her. And there are marks, but they fade, too."

Punk set his fingers against Rey's neck and Rey closed his eyes.

"Your pulse is a little slow."

Punk gently examined Rey's body, prodding him gingerly.

"It doesn't hurt anywhere that I touch you, does it?"

"No," Rey said honestly.

Batista didn't like Punk touching Rey all over his bare chest, arms and stomach like that. Rey looked so handsome lying down, his eyes hazy. He looked like a male Sleeping Beauty. Batista didn't want anyone but himself to touch Rey.

He growled possessively when Punk got out a battery-powered thermometer.

Rey gave a quick sigh. "Easy, Dave," he said calmingly.

Batista crossed his arms and grumbled.

"Could you hold this under your tongue for a minute?"

Rey opened his mouth and Punk stuck it in and Rey closed his lips weakly.

He seemed exhausted. Punk felt Rey's forehead and Rey closed his eyes like a child being examined by a parent.

"You don't feel warm," Punk murmured and the thermometer beeped.

He took it from Rey's mouth.

"Your temperature's a little low. Ninety-eight degrees. You need to get back to a ninety-eight point six."

"Am I sick?" Rey asked quietly.

Punk frowned. "Well, other than a slightly low temperature and the fact that you look exhausted, I don't think you're sick or injured, Rey."

"Thanks for checking anyway," Rey said, smiling weakly.

Punk nodded and tucked the sleeping bag and blanket back up over Rey.

Rey shut his eyes.

"Why the hell would you touch a ghost in the first place?" Batista demanded.

Rey sighed and opened his eyes again.

"Sylvia showed me a photo of her and her mother. God only knows what happened to the poor woman. The picture made Sylvia cry, so I hugged her," Rey explained calmly.

That sounded just like him to risk physical harm in order to comfort someone else.

Punk turned and glared at him. "Batista, he's been through a lot. He's worried sick about Jericho going missing and he's literally seeing ghosts. That would be enough to shock anyone into needing a little extra rest. Are you sure you want to deprive him of his sleep?"

Batista blinked and held his arm sheepishly. "I-no, no, I don't want to hurt him."

"Then let him get some sleep, Batista."

"Dave, I'll see you in a few more hours," Rey whispered.

Batista's face darkened. "Are you kicking me out?"

"You can stay if you just stop shouting at me."

Batista glowered and stormed out of the room.

"Why is he so angry with me lately?" Rey rasped.

"I don't know, Rey," Punk answered.

Everyone stood around.

"Go back to bed, guys, Rey needs to rest," Punk said, dispersing everyone.

Rey swallowed. "That's what I get for not dressing warmly enough at night."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Sylvia's skin doesn't hurt mine unless I touch her directly. If I had put a shirt on like Dave wanted me to, then Sylvia never would have burned me."

Punk nodded. "Well, everyone makes mistakes. But I never would have guessed that ghosts could ever become solid, let alone that their skin would feel like dry ice."

Rey nodded. "Yeah. And it stopped hurting the second she pulled away. It only hurt again later because the wind got into the house through an open window and like I said, I was stupid and not wearing a shirt."

"Why did she pull away?"

"She thought she was hurting me."

"She was though, wasn't she?" Punk asked him gently.

Rey gulped. "I could handle it."

"Rey…"

"You haven't seen her. She looks at me like she hasn't touched another human being in decades. She's so lonely, and she looks right through me with those eyes, just begging for help, Punk, just begging me…"

Punk set a hand on Rey's shoulder and rubbed there. "Rey, I don't blame you at all for feeling bad for her."

Rey bit his lip.

"We all just wish you wouldn't let yourself go through so much pain. Maybe that's why Dave's mad at you. Because you seem like you let yourself get hurt. And you know how he feels about you."

Rey frowned. "I've told him a million times I don't love him. He needs to stop breathing down my neck about every single thing I do."

"Well…what if you're becoming self-destructive by letting yourself get hurt this way?"

"Sylvia didn't mean to hurt me. She won't do it again. And I won't give her the opportunity to."

Punk sighed. "Promise?"

"Yeah. I told Sylvia I have to wear gloves or something around her from now on. She understood."

There was a brief silence.

"Hey, Punk?"

"Yeah?"

"I learned something else about ghosts that I think you might find interesting."

"What?" Punk asked, trying not to sound too eager for the information.

"Sylvia told me that she can't always hold things."

"Oh, really? That's interesting. You mean she said she can hold things sometimes?"

Rey nodded. "She has this little stash of things that she's brought up to the attic. Like little kid stuff, you know? Just trinkets. She has that photograph of her with her mother. Michelle gave Sylvia a photo too, of her with all the Divas."

As he said it, Rey remembered he'd forgotten to take it out of his waistband. He fidgeted around for a second and pulled it out up over the covers, handing it to Punk.

"I hope I didn't wrinkle it too much," Rey said.
"Its fine," Punk assured him. "She wanted you to have it?"

"Yeah. I think it's supposed to help me assist her in passing away."

"Is that what she needed your help doing?"

Rey nodded. "I think so. That's pretty much what she told me."

"That makes sense," Punk said. "But to help her pass away…that means you're going to have to find out all the gory details of her death. Rey, are you up for that?"

"If it'll help her go to heaven, I'll do anything she asks me to," Rey confessed.

Punk frowned at that. He had a feeling that Rey would let himself get horribly injured or even killed in order to help this girl. And he barely knew her. Why did he feel so strongly that he had to protect her?

"You don't have to go it alone, you know."

Rey thought for a minute. "I told Sylvia I'd meet her at midnight tonight. I'll ask her if it's okay if I introduce her to you guys."

"That's a good idea, Rey. Having everyone meet Sylvia would kill two birds with one stone."

"How is that?" Rey asked, confused.

"Well, it'll help you because some of the guys might know how to assist you in helping Sylvia pass away. But it'll also solve your problem, Rey."

"What's that?"

"Well…I was lying when I said I didn't know why Batista was mad at you. I didn't want the other guys in the room when I told you about it."

"What did you want to tell me?" Rey asked, concerned.

"Batista thinks you're making it up about Sylvia. He thinks you're…with Cena every night."

Rey swore profusely. "That paranoid, overgrown, fucking, man-child!"

Punk sighed. "I know. Sorry."

Rey exhaled through his nostrils, furious. "If I was gay, I hope I'd have enough sense not to date inside the WWE, they're all paranoid. Dave is just…arrgh." Rey rubbed his eyelids, frustrated.

"He's so jealous and bitter; he won't ever believe what I say. Even though it's the truth. I mean, I know it's farfetched, seeing a ghost. But it's also farfetched that those cameras got drained and that Jericho got kidnapped, so we know that there is paranormal stuff happening here! I don't know what other proof I can give him!"

"That's what I'm saying about introducing him to Sylvia. He won't doubt you anymore when he sees her," Punk explained.

"You really think he'll get off my back then?" Rey asked Punk desperately.

"I think he'll have to eat his words and swallow all of his jealous bitching," Punk stated firmly.

"Now get some sleep, Rey."

"All right. Thanks, Punk."

They let him sleep almost the whole day. He woke up on his own and wandered out yawning at four PM.

"Buenos…" Rey looked at the clock. "Tardes."

Rey suggested to everyone that they come and meet Sylvia at midnight and they all agreed to it. All but Batista.

Rey exhaled patiently and knew he could always convince his friend to come later.

Day Four at the Haunted House (At Midnight)

Rey put on socks, sneakers, pajama pants, and a long-sleeved shirt. Then he slipped on his wrestling gloves.

Batista frowned at him. He much preferred last night when Rey was shirtless.

"What?" Rey asked him when he saw his friend glaring at him.

"You're wearing an awful lot of clothes for your boyfriend tonight."

"You have a sick mind, Dave," Rey said and sighed exasperatedly. "Come on out and meet Sylvia. Then you'll know that I was with her at night, not some guy."

"You better hope she shows," Batista said sarcastically.

"She will," Rey said firmly.

Rey walked out into the hallway past the painting. He asked everyone to stop just behind the painting so as not to scare Sylvia away.

Rey turned on his flashlight like always and stood there quietly.

Nothing happened for a minute.

"Come on, baby girl; please…don't pick tonight not to haunt me," Rey whispered.

The flashlight went out. He knew that meant that Sylvia must have materialized. Rey couldn't see her anywhere though, and neither could anyone else.

Rey hurriedly changed the batteries in the flashlight.

"You were lying," Batista said angrily.

"Just wait a second," Punk told him. "She'll show up."

Rey swallowed. He knew Sylvia was somewhere out here in this house and that she could hear him. He had to convince her to come over to him.

"Sylvia! Sweetheart, you know I wouldn't let anybody hurt you! Please just come out for a minute!" Rey called.

He stood still for a moment and dropped his eyes, disappointed, and turned around, when suddenly the little girl vaulted into the back of his legs, hugging him.

He looked down and grinned at her.

"Thank you, baby girl. I'm sorry I brought the guys, but they thought I was crazy. They thought you weren't real."

Sylvia looked up at Rey and then frowned at the others as if to say, "I am too, real."

"Holy shit, man! What the fuck is that chick?!" Cena blurted in a high-pitched voice, scrambling to hide behind Randy and clutching at the smaller man's shoulders.

"Calm down! Haven't you ever seen a little girl before?" Rey demanded. He narrowed his eyes at Cena.

"And don't you even think about swearing again in front of a child."

"My bad!" Cena apologized quickly.

Rey gazed gently back at the ghost.

"Sweetheart, do you want to say hello?"

The little girl eyed the huge men surrounding Rey warily and kept clutching at his leg.

"It's okay, these are my friends."

The girl looked at him hesitantly. She held up a finger like she had when she'd thought to write in the dust earlier, but the floor was made of wood here and plus she was facing them. She'd have to turn her back and write things down and then stand up again and move behind the words for them to be seen.

The girl pouted, thinking about the dilemma.

"She wants to talk," Rey explained. "Is there any other way she can communicate with me other than by writing?"

"She can try to talk and we can read her lips," Punk offered.

Rey smiled excitedly. "That's an idea!"

"I can read lips," Jeff Hardy said.

"How'd you learn that?" Punk asked him.

Jeff stared at him. "What?"

"Oh, never mind…" Punk muttered.

Rey turned back to the ghost. "Sweetheart, can you move your lips as though you're talking? Then we can understand you."

The girl looked unwilling at first, but then slowly she mouthed a sentence to them.

"Hello. My name is Sylvia," Jeff translated.

Rey smiled warmly at her.

The girl smiled and clapped excitedly at having been understood.

She came out from behind Rey and curtsied to them.

They all smiled. She was the cutest thing.

She greeted all the guys one at a time, with Rey close at hand for her to run back to if she ever felt uncomfortable.

She liked Randy and Jeff, and absolutely adored C.M. Punk. She played with his gorgeous, straight, jet-black hair and giggled. He smiled.

"I like your hair, too," he said, laughing.

Batista came forward last.

Sylvia bolted back behind Rey's leg, sensing anger from Batista.

Rey set his hand on her head protectively.

"This is Dave. He's my best friend."

Sylvia looked doubtfully up at Rey.

"But he's a little mad at me right now," Rey explained to her.

Batista muttered an apology.

Rey smiled sadly at him.

"Sylvia, can they do anything to help me help you?"

Sylvia stared up at Rey and then looked back to Jeff, her translator, and mouthed a long message.

"She says that she only wants you to come with her to places in the house. She says she has something important to show you."

Punk frowned. The one time Rey hadn't been too stubborn to ask for help was the one time that this ghost wouldn't let him have any.

Rey looked at the ghost girl. "Sylvia, some of these guys are much smarter than me. And all of them are bigger and stronger. I'm sure that one of them would be better at helping you than I would."

Sylvia frowned sternly at Rey and told Jeff something.

"She says that she doesn't care about how strong you are. She says that there is something in your heart that she trusts. It has to be you that helps her because of your heart."

Rey blinked, astonished at the girl. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, squeezing the fabric of his pant leg and staring up into his eyes.

Rey smiled softly at her, flattered.

"If you say so, sweetheart. But if it involves a lot of heavy lifting, I have to tell you, you would be better off with Dave than with me."

Sylvia giggled and shook her head.

Batista smiled in spite of himself. She was a sweet little girl. He could see why Rey was so attached to her already.

"All right. Good night, everybody. Go back to bed. I'll tell you how it went in the morning," Rey said as Sylvia kept pulling at his pant leg.

Everyone waved goodbye to the pair and shuffled back into their rooms. Everyone but Batista, who seemed to want to say something to Rey.

Rey waited patiently, but after a minute, Sylvia grabbed his hand and started pulling all of her little weight to try to lead him where she wanted to go.

Rey glanced up at Batista. "I'll see you later, Dave," he said, smiling a little and turned to go. "All right, all right, Sylvia. I'm coming."

Sylvia led Rey downstairs and out the front door of the house. She walked out into the forest. Rey hesitated for a minute before stepping through the trees. He hoped they wouldn't be long out here. He preferred to be lost inside the house than outside of it.

Meanwhile, inside the house, everyone but Batista had gone back to bed. He was pacing, debating whether or not to follow Rey. He went to the railing and looked down the stairs.

He blinked disbelievingly. The stairs were spattered with blood.

"What the…?" Batista blurted. He looked down over the banister.

A woman in an old-timey white dress lay dead at the bottom steps, her head touching the floor. The back of her skull was split open and her limbs were bent the wrong way. She lay in a pool of her own blood.

Batista stared in horror, but in a moment the woman's body vanished and he whipped around, looking for where all the blood had gone. His thoughts started going a mile a minute. Rey's voice played over and over in his head, full of worry and fear.

People get pushed down the stairs by the ghosts

But his wife disappeared a couple of years before his daughter was found killed in here

Pushed down the stairs…

No one could ever find out what happened

"REY!!" Batista screamed, bolting down the stairs and out the door.

He had to find his friend before something happened to him out there.