The House of Wood (19 page)

She laughed. “Fancy another
whooping, do ya?”

“From you, anytime.”

He watched her as she strolled
off towards the pool table, her hips swaying from side to side. He
could feel a familiar stirring in his trousers. She looked over her
shoulder and gave him a cheeky wink. Time to let go of the past, he
thought. Time to let go of Rachel.

***

“The part in the woods sounds
like a harrowing experience,” David said. “Shall we take a break
for a second?”

“Please,” Rachel said, sitting
herself back down.

She was glad that was over. Her
experience in the woods had haunted her every night since. She was
also glad that they were taking a short break. She could feel her
hands trembling underneath the table. It was awful, having to
relive it all; David was right, remembering
was
almost as bad as going through it the first time.
The further she got through her story, the harder it was getting.
She hadn’t even got to the worst part yet.

Despite the storm, the air in
the restaurant seemed stifling. Every now and again, she would have
to wipe the sweat forming on her forehead.

“I’m just going to visit the
ladies room again,” she said.

“Is everything okay? You’ve
only just been.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I’ve
left my cell phone in there.”

“If the waitress comes shall I
order you a coffee, or anything?” David asked.

“Not for me thank you. I’ll be
back in a tick.”

Rachel walked off in the
direction of the ladies room again, leaving David alone at the
table. She hated lying, but she needed to clear her head, calm her
nerves down. She felt like an idiot. They were only memories, how
could she still be afraid after all this time? She thought. The
house was rebuilt, big deal. It wasn’t as if the house could hurt
her. It had been Justin. And he was dead. The dead can’t hurt
anyone.

The bright lights of the
bathroom dazzled her, as she stepped inside again. She took a quick
look around to make sure there was nobody else, ducking down low to
look beneath the cubicle doors. It was deserted. She took a deep
breath and walked over to the counter.

The harsh cold water burst from
the tap with a hiss. She put her hands underneath and splashed it
on to her warm face. Her eyelids felt heavy. Forcing them open, she
took a long hard look in the mirror. What had happened to the girl
she used to be? She wondered. Had she died up at the house?
Physically, she looked no different, three years older, but that
was all. Mentally, it was like two different people. She used to be
loving, caring and open to the possibility of an exciting future.
Full of life. Now she was cold and hard like granite. Maybe after
tonight, after exorcising her demons, she could get back to the way
she used to be. But first she had to face her biggest fear. Facing
Justin for one last time.

Her make-up had run from the
water on her face. Black lines had started to smear down her
cheeks. She wiped them with her hands and then opened up her purse
to take out her eyeliner.

“Shit,” she said, as the black
cylinder fell to the floor.

She bent down to pick it
up.

“Tee hee.”

Rachel stood bolt upright. The
child’s laugh had come from one of the cubicles.

“Who’s there?” She called
out.

Silence.

“Come on, I heard you.”

There was still no answer.
Must’ve been my imagination, she thought, turning back to the
mirror. She had checked every cubicle, and there had been no one
there. Stop being so stupid, she thought. There’s nothing here.

She blinked. For a second she
thought she’d saw a familiar face hovering over her shoulder,
smiling. Lilly. But it couldn’t be. It was just the stress, she
kept telling herself. She prayed to God that she wasn’t losing her
mind.

“Tee hee.”

She whipped her head
around.

“Come out, whoever’s doing
that. It’s not funny.”

She was becoming scared now.
The fear was crawling up her spine, numbing her. A cold breeze
brushed along the back of her shoulders. She spun around again.
Nothing. What the hell’s going on? She thought.

“Tee hee.”

The toilet door flew open, as a
group of women walked in, giggling and screaming. They looked at
her with contemptuous eyes.

Rachel grabbed her bag and flew
from the toilet. She needed to get out. Not just out of the
bathroom, but out of the restaurant, the town. Being home was the
worst place she could be. Except back at the house. She would
finish her story and then get the hell out of there. She owed it to
herself to finish after getting this far.

David stood up, as she reached
the table.

“What happened? You look like
you’ve seen a ghost.”

The phrase struck her as odd.
Had it been a figment of her imagination caused by stress, or had
she actually seen a ghost? She didn’t believe in ghosts.

“It’s nothing, I’m just
tired.”

She sat back down. This was it,
the hardest part to relive. If she couldn’t get through this next
part, then she may as well pick up the fork on the table and jab it
through her eye socket and in to her brain. If she couldn’t be
fixed, she thought, then life wasn’t worth living.

“I’m ready to continue,” she
said.

David sipped at his coffee,
before placing it on the table. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

She started to fiddle with the
locket. “After he hit me, the world seemed to go black. I could
hear everything, feel everything, but I was in a different place.
Every now and then I would feel a sharp tug at my hair, or a sharp
stone slice along my back, as he dragged me along the drive and in
to the house…”

Chapter
Nineteen

The house had grown cold and
silent, the final embers in the fireplace dead. Inside was pitch
black without the roaring flames to give off its warm, orange glow.
I couldn’t see a thing, as he dragged my body along the hard wooden
floor towards the living room. Not that my eyes would focus anyway;
I was still dazed and confused from the sudden blow to the back of
my head. I could feel a thin trickle of blood running down the nape
of my neck. My body groaned as I felt his firm grip lift me up and
throw me on to the sofa.

I heard his feet shuffle over
towards the fireplace. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The pain in my
body mixed with the fear had almost paralysed me. What was he going
to do with me? I wondered. An un-numbered amount of scenarios ran
through my head. Maybe this was a prank? Any minute now, Chelsea
and Tim would jump out and scream, gotcha! The image of Justin
standing there, with the severed head of my best friend, flashed in
my mind; her flowing red locks marred by the blood that had tangled
the strands together; her eyes rolled back in to the skull; her
face stuck forever in a twisted scream. No. This was real. I was
trapped in the middle of nowhere with a guy that was clearly out of
his mind. What was he going to do to me?

I lay on the sofa, focusing on
the steady rise and fall of my chest, trying to block out the pain.
I tried to move my legs a few inches, so as not to alert his
attention. It hurt, but not unbearably so.

The sound of liquid pouring and
a clicking from the fireplace to my right drew my eyes in that
direction. A sudden spark ignited the logs in to life. At first the
flames were small, but within seconds they spread over the
untouched wood like a disease, growing bigger as their insatiable
hunger was appeased. Justin was crouched at the side looking in to
the fire.

“Mesmerising aren’t they?” He
said, moving over to a nearby table. He placed a large jerry can
down with a dull thud. Not once did he turn to look at me. All I
could see was the back of his head.

“If you say so.”

“Oh, but they are. Look how
they grow, bigger and stronger, the hotter they burn. So
destructive and powerful. Like me.”

I couldn’t believe what I
witnessed next. Justin reached out his hand and put it in the
middle of the fire. The flames licked at his flesh, his face
twisting with the agony. But still he kept it there.

“You’re crazy!”

I wasn’t sure whether it was
the wind howling through the eves, Justin, or even the house
itself, laughing at me. An insane laugh. The kind a person only
hears in their nightmares.

He retracted his hand and
slowly turned towards me, cradling the burnt lump. His eyes locked
straight on to mine, his lips pulled back in a perverse snarl. He
moved his hand up towards his mouth. His bloated tongue flickered
between his teeth, licking the burnt skin.

“Mmm, it tastes good,” he
drooled, then pointed it towards me. “Want a taste?”

“You sick, twisted
bastard.”

I was struggling to hold on to
my own sanity. He came towards me, trying to force his fingers down
my throat. I coughed and spluttered, gagging on the taste. Vomit
exploded from my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. He was smothering me,
laughing incessantly in my ear. I could see the enjoyment on his
face.

He took his hand out of my
mouth and walked towards the kitchen. I couldn’t believe how much
had changed in him, in such a short amount of time. He had gone
from the most perfect guy I’d ever met, to the most hideous and
crazy. How was it possible for someone to hide their true nature
the way he had? I wondered, trying to get my breath back. It wasn’t
natural. If someone else had been telling me this story, I never
would’ve believed it. But there it was, right in front of me. My
brain just couldn’t understand it.

I tried to keep my breathing
steady in order to conserve my energy. I would need all of it,
before the night was over. I felt a new confidence growing in me.
Something happens to a person when they witness so much horror.
It’s hard to explain. The mind switches off its inhibitions, the
part that knows what it sees is wrong. It convinces itself that
everything around you is normal, even though it’s far from it. I
don’t know whether it’s something to do with adrenaline, or whether
everybody has a place in their psyche that they can hide away in,
where no one else can find them, or get to them. It creates a sense
of hope. False hope.

The cursing and banging in the
kitchen, told me that he might be in there for some time. I peered
over the top of the sofa. He was rooting around in the cupboards
and drawers at the other end of the kitchen. It seemed as though he
was focused on finding something.

“Rachel,” he called over his
shoulder. “Do you want a sandwich?”

It took me a few seconds to
understand what he’d said. My ears heard the words, but my brain
didn’t understand them at first. Then like a light bulb switching
on, a thought struck me.

I took a breath. “Yes, please.
If it’s no bother.”

“For you,” he replied looking
over his shoulder at me. “Nothing is a bother.”

I watched him as he moved over
to the fridge and stuck his head inside. The power must have been
out, as there was no light, or electrical humming coming from
inside.

His head popped up above the
fridge door. He was smiling. “Fancy chicken? I can do you a nice
chicken and mayo sub. Yes, we’ll have chicken.”

He disappeared again in to the
fridge before closing it with his foot and walking over to the
counter. I heard him whistling the Davy Crocket theme tune, as he
worked. It was surreal. One minute he was putting his hand in to a
burning fire, the next he was making me a sandwich. If I hadn’t
been so terrified, I probably would’ve laughed at it.

He came over with the plate and
handed me the sub. Bluish green mould was growing on top.

“Enjoy,” he said, passing me
the plate.

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking,
as I took it from him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sugar pie.” He
left and went back to the kitchen.

Within seconds I heard him
rooting around in the kitchen again. What was he searching for? I
wondered, but I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. My
moment had come.

Carefully, I placed the sub on
the floor, trying as hard as I could not to make a sound. I peered
over the top of the sofa again. He hadn’t heard anything. His back
was to me. I moved my legs over the side of the sofa, so that I was
sitting up. Not once did I take my eyes off the kitchen. God knows
what he would do to me, I thought, if he found me?

My body protested, but I fought
it off. My vision swam, as I slowly stood up. The dizzying feeling
made me feel sick. Somehow I kept myself from puking. My legs were
wobbly but they would do.

I tiptoed towards the door. I
had to get out. This time I wouldn’t run in to the woods. Justin
always kept his cell phone in the car, which was always unlocked.
If I could get to the car and lock myself in, then I could call for
help. I’d be safe. Free. I reached out my hand. The door knob was
centimetres from my grasp. I held my breath, taking one last look
over my shoulder. Still he was searching. I felt the door grind in
my hand, as I turned the handle. My heart was racing, blood
pounding in my ears.

“For fuck sake,” he screamed,
slamming his hand down on the counter. “I can’t find it.”

I shot back to the sofa,
placing myself in the position I had been in. Had he seen me? Had
he known I was moving? He looked at me inquisitively.

“Did you move?”

“N-n-no.”

He raised a disbelieving
eyebrow. “Are you sure? Liars go to hell you know.”

“I-I’m not lying, I swear.”

He scratched his chin. “How’s
the sandwich?”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.” I
couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

“Hmm, well, I’m going to be in
the back room for a second.”

Was he testing me? I wondered.
Tempting me to try and run again.