Beyond the Sea

I stomped on his foot, and he growled. His arms didn’t loosen. Instead, they tightened, his hard chest pressing flush to my back, his arms around my middle. How the hell was he so strong? I looked down, noticing how close his arm was to my mouth and without thinking I bit down hard into his flesh. His guttural grunt vibrated through me, and finally he let go.

I ran straight up the stairs, not realising my error until I heard him coming after me again.

Why hadn’t I run out the front door? Idiot!

I was too frightened to think straight.

I reached the top of the stairs, knowing there was no escape. I hammered on Vee’s bedroom door, but there was no answer. Then I tried the handle, but it was locked. She was probably passed out drunk in bed. Not that she’d come to my rescue if she were conscious. Vee would sit back and watch as Noah murdered me.

Desperate, I remembered the attic bedroom. Nobody slept up there, but it might be a good place to hide. Besides, I didn’t have any other options at present.

I made a dash up the next flight of stairs that led to the attic, pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind me.

My laboured breathing filled the room as I rested my head against the door, relieved to have gotten away from him. But then I turned around to face the room and wondered if perhaps letting Noah catch me would’ve been less scary.

9.

The attic was decrepit. I never had cause to come up here before, and I didn’t think Vee ever used the room either. Now I knew why.

Black mould grew in the corners of the ceiling, and there was a sink and toilet along one wall, both covered in dirt and limescale. On the other side of the sink was a narrow bed, the antique kind with a metal frame that had long since given way to rust. The flower-patterned sheets were covered in yellow stains. Who knew how long they’d been festering, and next to the bed was a small cot. I took a step closer and saw a ratty, chewed up old teddy bear inside.

I startled when I heard a squeak and grimaced. It sounded like the noise a mouse or a rat would make. Please, please, please don’t let there be rats up here.

My eyes rose to the wall above the bed. Strange markings had been dug into the plaster. I stepped closer, covering my nose because the musty, damp smell was starting to burn my sinuses. As I studied the markings, a chill came over my body. They looked like they’d been made by human fingernails, like someone had dug in so deep they’d left indents on the wall. Some of them were stained with a shade of brown that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than dried blood.

I swallowed thickly, feeling ill.

I couldn’t believe I’d lived here for four years and never knew the horror show right above my head. What was this place? And who the hell used to sleep up here?

A creak sounded, and my pulse took flight. I looked around, but it was too dark to see where the noise had come from. It was probably the rat again. Or a ghost. I couldn’t tell which was scarier.

All I knew was that I needed to get out of here right this moment. There was a heavy, pressing sense of darkness and misery that made me want to flee. That same darkness permeated the entire house, but it was so much more concentrated up here.

Suddenly, the prospect of going down and facing Noah didn’t seem as scary as hiding out up here all night.

A knock sounded on the door, and I jumped in fright.

“Estella, I know you’re in there. Come out and talk to me,” Noah pleaded. “You’re overreacting.”

I let out a joyless laugh. “I’m overreacting? You just pushed your own mother out of her wheelchair. What kind of psychopath does that?”

I heard a noise, like he was leaning against the door now. “I didn’t push her,” he said, his voice rough. “I heard her cry out and came into the living room. She was already on the floor. I think she was trying to climb out of her wheelchair to sit on the couch but fell over in the process. I was about to pick her up before you came into the room.”

I frowned, unsure if I should believe him. His explanation was simple enough, but it didn’t explain the way he’d been hovering over her, ill intent in the predatory hunch of his shoulders.

“Estella, will you please come out of there,” he went on when I didn’t reply. Did he know how horrible this room was? Was that why he didn’t try to come inside?