House of the Damned

There was a light knock on the door. I flinched, and before I had time to react and hide the bundle of papers, the door swung open, creaking somewhat.
It was Amanda.

“Hi, Karen,” she said, smiling a little wearily. “Can I come in? Just for a second?” Her eyes were no longer bloodshot, but she still looked exhausted.

“Um, sure. Go ahead and sit down, I guess.” I gestured to the other end of the bed, trying to slip the letters under the covers subtlety as I did so.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

I was extremely lucky that Amanda didn’t try to pry like Carey always did.

“I was thinking earlier,” she said, settling down on the edge of the bed and facing me. The yellow light of the room made her irises appear unusually dark, almost the near-black of my own. It gave her a more focused look, so unlike the way I had seen her several hours ago. It also made me feel as though it was a stranger looking back at me.

“Did they tell the rest of you any…any ideas of what was going on last night?”

“Not much. They just said that if we had any information, to come forward. But as far as I know, no one knows what happened. How about you?”

“Same thing,” she replied. “The officer asked me if Alexander or I had known anyone who would have targeted us specifically. And I’ll admit that before I came here, there were plenty of people…around where I was that didn’t like us. But I doubt they would know where I am now, would they?”

“I don’t know,” was all I could say. It was too early to decide whether or not to tell her.

Then again, she might not believe it. Amanda believed in just about everything—ghosts, aliens, werewolves, the whole nine yards. But even so…

“Carey came by my room earlier. That’s what made me decide to come visit you,” she said thoughtfully, interrupting my thoughts.

“What’d she say?”

Even so, she was my friend whose brother had just been killed. She deserved to know, if anyone in this house did. More than me.

And if she didn’t believe me, and thought I was just making this up to scare or make fun of her…I didn’t want to put our friendship on edge. Not now.

“She told me that you two managed to overhear the officer and Miss White talking about what happened.”

“Oh, that,” I replied. “I’m not sure if it means anything. I mean, this is an old house, there’s bound to be some weird legends about it by now.”

“But wouldn’t that explain it?” Amanda pressed. “That someone that hangs out here doesn’t want anybody taking up their space? That’s why I’m not so sure it’s someone that I used to know like Officer Glenn asked me. It just seems like that might be a reason why.”

The woman—no, Clara told me that I was forbidden to talk to the ghosts. Not that I couldn’t tell other people…

This was not a time to look for loopholes. This wasn’t an insurance contract or grading rubric. The consequences might be the same anyway.

If there was a way—

“Amanda?” I asked, the word coming out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“What?”

“When’s the next time we leave Everett Mansion?”

“Normally? Not until next Sunday when we all head out—“

Sunday is too late.

“—but I think that we might have a trip to shop for more food and stuff coming up tomorrow. You and I normally go, so…But why do you need to know, anyhow?”

I debated what to say for a moment, then simply stated, “Because I have to tell you something.”

Amanda’s face pulled into a look of confusion. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Long story. Look, I’ll tell you tomorrow when we’re out there. Is Carey coming?”

“Yeah, unless she has something else important to do. Why don’t you remember that, Karen? We’ve been helping out with the shopping since we were what, fifteen?”

“I know,” I sighed. “Look, I just don’t remember things well, okay?”

“Okay. No need to snap at me. I’ll go, then…unless you want to hang out or something?”

My attempt to decline politely came out too stiffly. “No, thanks.”

“Your loss.” She tried to smile a little as she said it. “See you later.”

“Bye,” I murmured, as the door shut behind her.

Once her footsteps faded, I cast my eyes around the room. I needed a good, safe place to hide the letters—where no one would find them.

I wound up settling for underneath the bed, since the covers were long enough you couldn’t see underneath without lifting them. It took more energy than it should have to bend down and stuff them in, reminding me of how long a day it had been.

It was a cliché location, but it would do. I took my place again sitting on top of the covers.

My mind wandered again, exhausted from the pressure of the day. There were still two hours before I could go to dinner. Maybe I should have stayed with Amanda like she’d offered…

My thoughts landed on the ghost Frank had said was in my room. I hadn’t really thought about her since he’d initially told me.

If there really was another person in this bedroom, could she help me, too?

But I had been told not to speak to them, on pain of losing the entire orphanage at once, and for all I knew, the person in my room could start freaking out or tell Clara about it. I knew nothing of her personality, anything.

And if she really did spend her time screaming, she’d probably lost her mind already.

I wondered idly how long it took a dead person to go insane in a place like this. Stuck completely alone in a silent room, chained, knowing you would probably spend forever there, with only your own thoughts for company.

The thought made me shiver slightly, and it reminded me why I was doing this. To help them out of this ongoing torture that had been going on for over fifty years.

And yet, was Clara entirely to blame? Her life had fallen apart in a matter of weeks. The man she had fallen in love with had abused and isolated her…she had been so ecstatic when they had married, too.

If this was anyone’s fault, it was her husband’s.

But did he deserve whatever would happen to him if I managed to bring him back here?

If only I could speak to another one of the ghosts…

“Are you here or not?” I murmured, not expecting anyone to answer.

Still silence.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” I continued, tempted to raise my voice above a whisper. “Maybe you don’t know I exist. How am I supposed to know how people go insane, anyway? Alone until you forget everything….But if you’re here, it would really help me. Honestly. If you tell me what you can, I can get you out of here. I can get you to…wherever it is you go after you die.

“I mean, anywhere besides this place would be better for you, right?”

Nothing.

I had the urge to snap or insult her, but it wouldn’t make her particularly cooperative with me, even if it did make her answer. Or I would just continue to talk to empty air.

And since I spent so much time up here, she could probably make sleeping here a living hell if she wanted to.

This was getting very frustrating.

The small amount of nervous energy I had received from reading the letters earlier was beginning to fade. Rest sounded like a good option right now.

And it really had been a long day…

So I lied down, not bothering to pull up the covers. For a while my brain continued to whirl, but by small degrees, I fell asleep.

“Karen! You coming for dinner?” somebody called from outside my door. I didn’t bother to distinguish precisely whose voice it was. I was still too tired.

“Yeah. Coming.” I turned to stare a little groggily at the clock. It had only been a couple of hours.

I did my best to look as though I had not tossed and turned in my sleep for as long as I had as I walked through the now empty hallway. But there wasn’t a lot I could do to get rid of all the wrinkles in my shirt and tangles in my hair. There wasn’t really time, and I was hungry.

Five minutes later I was sitting with Amanda and Carey. We were the only ones at our table, which was right in the middle of the large but stuffy room.

I wasn’t the only person in my group of friends who had fallen down the social ladder recently. People seemed slightly afraid of Amanda, aiming sympathetic looks at her but only when she turned away.

Then again, it wasn’t really their fault. Not many of us had previously dealt with a person our age’s death. Parents, maybe, but not friends. I knew the stories of nearly everyone here, seeing as I’d been here for a while. Kids would arrive a few weeks after their parents could no longer take care of them. Some of their parents abused them. Others just happened to die. I was never sure which was a sadder thing to see—a kid who had two loving parents and then nothing, or someone who had never known that kind of affection.

But perhaps I was getting carried away in my thoughts. There were other things to focus on now.

Tonight I would try to figure out how to tell Amanda about what really happened to her brother. It wouldn’t be easy, but maybe I could only tell her what she really needed to know.

And I needed a way to get away from Carey to do it. I felt horrible knowing that I was favoring one friend over the other, but it was just too risky. There was a good chance that Carey would tell the completely wrong person and cause a panic. Already I felt guilty for thinking of her that way, and had a hard time looking at Carey in the eyes and talking like I normally did.

Amanda was still much quieter than normal, but Carey was fairly animated. She almost seemed forceful, in fact—as though she was consciously trying to keep our conversation flowing.

Carey came up with another question. “Have you been to the library yet?”

“No,” replied Amanda, picking at her food a little absentmindedly. “I heard it’s good, though.”

“It is. I went there today. That place is huge. I know you like to read and stuff, and I still have some studying left, so if you want to go…”

“Sure. You want to come, Karen?” Amanda turned to face me expectantly.

Might as well take some of the guilt off my shoulders. “Yeah. That sounds good. I haven’t read anything good in ages, even before we came here.”

Dinner finished, and the three of us trouped to the upstairs hallway which was now bright with yellow light. This was the first time outside of meals that the three of us had been together since the old orphanage burned down. I was determined not to think about anything else, just spending some time with my friends. That would be it. No ghosts, no letters, nothing more for now.

Amanda still looked reluctant and slightly out of place, and I tried to help drive our talking toward normal subjects. Assignments. Colleges. Majors.

I knew who else would be in the library and still felt apprehensive about it. But I had done it before, and if someone else opened the door first, then no one would see her. No one except me would know.

We reached the end of the hall. Amanda opened the door as she looked over her shoulder to something I had said, then turned back to face inside.

She frowned.

“What’re those red lights in there?”

Carey stood behind her. “I don’t see anything. Karen, do you?”

My stomach sank, and I leaned around the side of the door.

Yeah. Those were the red ‘lights.’

And now they were starting to move.