lumy12

Page One Hundred Nine

"I can't explain it," you say -- after you've already tried, and failed, to explain it. "It's just a feeling. Don't you always tell me I should trust my feelings?"

"Like a gut feelin'?"

"Yes! Or a sixth sense."

Joel frowns. "If there was anything' wrong with this place, I like to think I would've felt somethin', too."

"You're not creeped out by it at all? Even a little bit?"

"Nope. I checked it all out -- it's fine." He gives you a knowing look. "But it's dark an' rainy out, so I get why you might feel that way."

"It's not just that, Joel -- I'm not a little kid afraid of the dark. -I mean... I know adults can be afraid of it, too, after they've been through shit like we have." You had to add that because he would've launched into a lecture you've already heard at least three times already. "But it's not that, I swear. There's something... not good about this house. Please, can we just find another one? They're not spaced too far apart, it won't take forever. Please?"

Joel sighs. "All right. If it's that important to you."

You smile, relieved. "It is. Thank you!" You can tell he doesn't think there's any truth to this inclination of your gut, which is kind of annoying, but you're too happy that you're leaving the dreadful house to care. And since he feels bad for teasing you earlier, he probably won't even give you shit.

The next house you try doesn't give you the heebie jeebies or bad vibes of any kind, but Joel feels that it's in too bad a state of disrepair. Lots of water damage. You point out that there aren't any leaks over the beds and you can just avoid the other ones... nope, he doesn't like it.

The house after that is locked up too well, with both the front and back doors either locked or blocked so that they won't open from the outside, and all the windows boarded up. He doesn't get the sense that anyone's inside, but just to err on the side of caution, he wants to skip the next house, too. You know he worries about the horses drawing attention to yourselves, so you remind him that you can keep them in a garage overnight, but he still wants to keep going.

Finally, you come to a house that's acceptable to both of you. You're both thoroughly drenched by now. Joel, ever the gentleman, gives you the sweatshirt he brought along -- and since you've never seen him wear one in the summer, you suspect he brought it for a scenario such as this. You change into it right away; you'll have to endure the wet jeans, though, because the sweatshirt isn't quite long enough that you'd feel comfortable hanging out with Joel pants-less. And if you're not comfortable, you know he wouldn't be, either; you remember the day he awkwardly told you that you needed to get a longer nightshirt. Actually, he didn't tell you -- he just started hinting at how much you'd grown in the past year, and how clothes can shrink in the wash, and you had to figure out what the fuck he was getting at (the memory still amuses you, and you still tease him about it on occasion).

You settle the horses in the garage, eat a cold supper, and you're ready to go to bed. Your clothes got so soaked that they probably won't even be dry by morning -- soaked enough that even Joel, Mr. Always Be Prepared To Flee At A Moment's Notice, is amenable to the idea of sleeping in underwear only. Joel's sweatshirt, of course, is cozy and dry and serves nicely as a nightshirt. The blanket on your bed is a bit scratchy, but it keeps you warm enough. You read by flashlight for a little while because Joel says you need to give your food some time to digest (you never really thought about it before you met him, but you suppose if sleep basically shuts down all but your most necessary body functions, food could just like, sit there, rotting in your stomach all night?! Gross). You're so tired, though, that you doze off a couple times before finally giving up (rotting food or not) and switching off the light, the rain now reduced to soothing white noise that lulls you into slumber like a lullaby.

Except you don't stay asleep all night; you wake up at some point with that unpleasant feeling like your bladder is about to burst. You probably should've gone pee before going to bed, rain or no rain, but you didn't have to go that bad. If everything shuts down when we sleep, why wouldn't I feel the need or whatever at that same level when I wake up? you wonder groggily. There's a flaw in your logic, Joel!

You stick your feet into your wet shoes sans socks, not bothering with your wet jeans because who gives a shit? You take your flashlight and your gun -- you don't expect to need the gun, but you've endured enough Joel lectures on the subject that it's now ingrained in you to carry it around everywhere, just in case. In fact, you would feel weird and vulnerable going Outside without it, even just for a few minutes like this. You move around as quietly as possible, but your door squeaks a little when you open it, and the stairs creak even more, and you're sure Joel just woke up, despite your best efforts at stealth, because he's in Outside mode now. "I'm just going pee, Joel, I'll be right back!" you call to him to spare him the trouble of bursting out of the bedroom with guns blazing. ...Well, he might not go that far, but maybe now he can just roll over and go back to sleep without getting up, at least. He answers you with something unintelligible.

"And no I-told-you-so's!" you add -- because he did suggest that you go before, and you lied and said you didn't have to go (you just didn't feel like dealing with the rain and mud and all). Besides, only little kids need to be told when to go. ...to which you can already hear Joel saying "Well, I was right, wasn't I?" Pffft. Maybe I would have gone if only I had a DICK, you grumble to him in your head. Which isn't something you ever think about at home, but man, would it be convenient Outside!

Joel doesn't answer this time anyway. You doubt he'll actually fall back to sleep before you come back... he probably won't even do that creepy half-sleeping thing he does sometimes.

By habit, you usually go somewhere in the back yard, as it stands to reason that if there are any potential threats around, they're more likely to see you out in front where you're visible from the street, rather than in an enclosed yard. But the back door won't open. You don't know if it's busted or if there's some trick to it that you're missing (although you don't recall seeing Joel open it earlier), but you're too tired and too needing-to-pee to fuck around with it -- you don't even bother grabbing the toilet paper from the saddlebag. You go out front. No one's around anyway. And the moon is bright enough that you don't need your flashlight -- well, at least not once you've picked out a spot.

You squat over some grass next to the porch stairs and make it wetter. Now that you've relieved yourself, you can appreciate the sweet post-rain smell in the air... the calm, still beauty of the moonlit night. But your legs are cold, and you know that being out here is likely keeping Joel semi-awake, so you're not going to linger.

You start to climb up the porch steps, but something makes you turn your head on the first step... in the direction of the 'bad' house you left earlier (coincidence, perhaps, but you're very aware that that's the direction). You don't see anything, though. You keep looking... you flash your light over there... nothing.

You take another step, and you have that feeling again. You whip your head -- and your flashlight -- around quickly. ...Still nothing!

You don't even take another step this time; you just stand there, like you're about to... you try to ignore this strange feeling that's making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. You don't look. And then -- you swear to God, you hear a voice over there whispering "Help me, Ellie" -- so you look, without the light this time, and you don't exactly see anything, but... it was like a... shadow of a something? Or an outline. Just for a split second. It's gone now.

It was a girl... maybe a woman... someone wearing a long white dress.

...which has to be your imagination, because who the fuck would wear a long white dress out here? Perfect, pure white, no splatters of mud or anything on it.

You finish ascending the steps and walk to the front door, pausing there to see if you still have that feeling. You are happy to note that you do not.

Or, you should be happy; actually, that vision or whatever is stuck in your mind, and you're not sure you can so easily dismiss it as your imagination. Maybe it wasn't human... maybe it was like... a ghost? Some kind of spirit trapped in between worlds? You're not sure you believe in shit like that, but it's not like anyone's disproven it, either.

You think back to that feeling you got in the other house. Maybe it wasn't necessarily BAD... I just took it that way because it was fucking weird? Because I couldn't identify it? You're sure the two things -- the house and the girl in white -- are related. You're not sure how you know that, you just do. So what should you do now? One thing you're definitely not going to do is tell Joel; he already thinks you're crazy for insisting on leaving that house. What would you say to him now? "Hey, Joel, can you come back to that house with me? There's a ghost that wants to talk to me."

Yeah... that's a hell no.

But he might be cool with going back there in the morning, if you pretend you just want to see if you still have that gut feeling in the light of day, like out of curiosity or something...

Then again, what do you need Joel for? What can he do that you can't, in this situation? He didn't even feel anything, back there. You get the feeling this is personal; she called you by name, and she appeared to you, not Joel...

...Ugh, maybe you ARE losing it, Ellie... or you're sleepwalking or something! Listen to how crazy you sound!

If you go back to bed and try to convince yourself it's your imagination or a dream or something, turn to page 189.

If you return to that house and see if you can figure out what this spirit or whatever the fuck it is wants with you, turn to page 191.