Chapter Thirteen: Will and Emma

Kidnap My Heart

Chapter 13: Will and Emma

Will

It hadn’t taken me very long to forget the noise I’d heard in the bathroom the day after Emma escaped. I wasn’t sure how, because I was pretty sure I’d heard the Grudge singing me the song of her people. Well, that was only if the song of her people happened to consist of creepy croaking.

I’d been freaked out, obviously, but with so much going through my head at the time, it hadn’t seemed as important in the long run. My focus was on Emma, not on ghosts and shit.

My focus quickly shifted from Emma to ghosts and shit when strange things began to happen. First, I noticed a few things in my room had been rearranged. Nothing huge, I guess, but I had taken notice, after all.

When I casually mentioned this to Eric to gauge his reaction, he said, “If you tell me the house is haunted one more time, I’m going to punch you in the sack.”

I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it so many times. If I’d just kept my mouth shut until I had solid proof, Eric would have believed me. But no.

With no one to believe or support me, I decided to ignore the facts and wait for Emma to leave more signs of her presence. I knew she was here, or at least close. I just wasn’t sure where, or how, exactly, she’d managed to evade us for three days now. But she was here. That was the one thing I was sure of. I occasionally addressed her out loud while walking around the house, hoping to catch her off guard, but she never responded.

I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling as I walked in the living room. Maybe she was on the roof. “I know you’re here, Emma!”

“Dude.” I snapped my head over when I heard my brother’s voice and realized Eric and Taylor were sitting there watching TV. “Have you lost your mind?”

I huffed quietly. “No. She’s here, Eric. I’m telling you she’s here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right.”

I was just about to reply when I noticed something sitting on the piano. The piano belonged to our mom, but it hadn’t been used in ages, not since she died nine years ago. Neither Eric nor I was musically talented in any way, but sometimes, we would catch each other sitting on the wooden bench, remembering the days when music used to fill the room. With her gone, silence tended to fill the room. Well, that and our TV, but the bill didn’t always get paid, so that was never a certainty. Anyway, it may not have been used anymore, but that didn’t mean we weren’t aware of it. And I was sure that empty vase hadn’t been sitting there before.

"Did you move that there?"

Eric looked up from the TV. I couldn’t tell what he was watching at first, but when I saw Kim Kardashian’s huge ass, I knew exactly what it was. “Move what?”

Momentarily forgetting my fear, I asked, “Are you watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians?”

“Don’t even say anything. She wanted to watch it.” He nodded his head towards Sniffles.

My mouth nearly fell open. “Are you forgetting who’s in charge here?”

“It’s not a big deal. She got to handle the TV remote. That’s all.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s next? Is she going to sleep in your bed now, too, while you sleep on the floor?”

My brother didn’t say anything, and Taylor averted my gaze, focusing her bright blue eyes on the TV.

“Oh, my God. You’re letting her sleep in your bed while you crash on the floor.”

“She has a bad back.”

“You’re weak, man,” I said, shaking my head in disgust. What kind of a kidnapping was this?

“Will—”

“Weak.”

Eric shot me a pointed look. “If you just came in here to criticize me, you can turn right back around. Or do I really need to remind you who lost the girl and whose girl is sitting right here?”

“You can’t even compare the two.” There was a reason their nicknames were on different sides of the spectrum; they were on different sides of the spectrum. How they were even friends was beyond me, although I was guessing their friendship was pretty much over by now. Leaving behind your best friend was just cruel. Even I wouldn’t do that, and my boundaries were pretty fucked up sometimes, I’d admit. Eric was to me what Taylor was to Emma, or so I’d thought. I would never leave my brother behind, but I guess Rage had other priorities.

Eric just shrugged.

I could’ve dragged the argument on, but it was one we’d already had and there was really no point in having it. It didn’t change anything. Instead of continuing, I repeated my previous question. “Did you move that vase over there?” I pointed towards the vase on the piano.

“No. Why?”

“Did you?” I looked at Sniffles, trying not to look so accusing this time.

She shook her head, managing not to squeak in fear for once.

I didn’t say anything, but I guess the look on my face made me an open book. “Will, if you mention ghosts one more time…”

“I didn’t even say anything,” I said, an incredulous tone overtaking my voice.

“You didn’t have to. I could see it all over your face. The house isn’t haunted. One of us probably moved the vase there and forgot. It’s not a big deal.”

“I would remember if I moved it,” I insisted. “How can you not believe me?”

He looked at me with a sour expression on his face. “This isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this shit. Last time you thought we were being haunted, we just had a bug infestation.”

Taylor made a disgusted noise, glancing around with a worried expression. Guess our house was too run down and buggy for her.

“Bugs don’t move vases,” I pointed out.

“No, drunken idiots do.”

“Fine. Don’t believe me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

***

Emma

So maybe leaving my hiding place wasn’t the safest idea I’d ever had, but then again, since when were any of my ideas safe? I was known for being reckless and unpredictable. I prided myself in it, really. Too bad it seemed to be getting in the way of my escape nowadays.

Once I was sure everyone was asleep, I tiptoed out of my hiding place and quietly left the bathroom, bringing a few select objects with me. I hadn’t left that room in an entire day. Will and Eric had given up on looking for me, and it would’ve been idiotic to leave when they were around and awake. I hadn’t left the previous night, either, just in case. I wasn’t sure if Will thought a ghost had saran wrapped his bed or if he knew it was me, but I wasn’t about to find out.

I had no trouble finding my way as I walked in the darkness. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness long ago. My hiding place was cold and dark, but the tiny slither of light that made its way through the cracks in the door was enough to allow me to see once my eyes adjusted.

I wasn’t sure where the light was coming from as I tiptoed around the house, but wherever it was, it was allowing me my vision. I even managed to get upstairs without making much noise or falling off the stairs, which was always a plus.

My first stop was Eric’s room. The door was slightly open, which made getting in slightly easier. I didn’t want to wake him up, but I needed to see if Taylor was awake. She wasn’t, and to make matters worse, she was on the bed while Eric was camped out on the floor right next to her. The other side of the bed was against a wall.

I crept closer and crouched down, listening for Eric’s breathing. It wasn’t as slow and heavy as I would’ve liked. When he rolled over and almost touched my foot, I panicked and jumped back. I thought he would wake up for sure, but he didn’t even open his eyes. He just rolled back over.

I almost let out a sigh of relief. Sorry, Taylor. Not today. I shook my head and left the room, heading to Will’s room next. I would’ve preferred escape, but from what I’d seen, Eric was a light sleeper. He’d wake up as soon as Taylor got up, and I wasn’t ready to go back to that garage. No, no, no, no, no. I wasn’t going back without causing some hell first. Hell could mean escape or pranks; it depended on the day.

The door to Will’s room wasn’t open, but that wasn’t going to stop me. Any noise I made would probably make him think a ghost was visiting him, not me. Luckily, the door wasn’t too noisy, and I managed to get in without waking him up. After studying his breathing and movement for a few minutes, I decided he wasn’t exactly a heavy sleeper, but he wasn’t a light sleeper, either. He seemed to be somewhere in the middle.

I put the first object underneath his mattress: a walkie talkie. I owned the other walkie talkie. Walkie talkies were normally meant for harmless fun, but I, personally, thought harmful fun was much more appealing in this case. Let me tell you, though, surreptitiously sliding that thing in there when his fat ass was laying on it was not an easy task, and it took me a good five minutes. This had better be worth it.

The second object went inside the picture frame by his desk: a mini-tape recorder that was basically the size of a wafer. It was so perfect; it even had its own remote control. I felt kind of bad using the picture frame for my plan since it appeared to be a picture of him and his mom when he was younger, but it was the best place to hide it. He would never think to look behind the cardboard of a picture. He would look behind it, but not inside it.

I quietly opened his windows next and moved a few objects around before I left the room. When I went downstairs, I moved some more things around and opened all of the cupboard doors in the kitchen.

Satisfied with my work, I went back to the bathroom and closed the door, locking it from the inside so I could work in peace. I grabbed a bottle of hair gel from the cabinets, some other clear substance, a bottle of pomegranate juice I’d found in their pantry, and a bowl and spoon. Most of the concoction was hair gel, with a bit of the other substance added in and some pomegranate juice for color. I added more pomegranate juice when the contents of the bowl didn’t turn out red enough and was eventually satisfied with my work.

Now for the message.

I dipped my fingers into the red goo and got to work.

***

Will

The sounds woke me up. They weren’t your average nightly sounds. No, the sounds I heard were unnatural. There was no way you could attribute them to the trees swaying in the wind, or a raccoon running across the roof, or fucking Santa Claus coming down the chimney to give me coal because I slept with his granddaughter, a scenario that was pretty likely. You know, if Santa Claus existed and all.

First there was the heavy breathing. It sounded like it was close. Like it was right next to me. But when I opened my eyes and looked, there was nothing there. A part of me had hoped Emma had hopped out of her hiding spot and decided to freak me out a little, but she was nowhere to be found. Not that I really looked. I wasn’t getting out of bed.

Then the Grudge croaking started. I would never get that sound out of my head. This was the second time I’d heard it, except this time it was worse because I was alone and it was fucking two in the morning.

Then the whispering started. Yes. The whispering. Something was fucking whispering to me late at night, and there was no one in my room. When I heard, “Death… death… death…. death…” I swear, honest to God, I almost passed out. I thought I was going to have a heart attack and pass out and die or something. I’d never been so terrified in my life.

I slowly clutched my blankets, afraid to make any sudden movement. Oh, God. Maybe if I just laid really, really still, the ghost would think I was asleep and would give up. Except there was no way I was going to be able to stay still because I was shaking like I had hypothermia.

“They’re coming for you…”

I clenched my eyes shut, shaking my head back and forth. It’s not real, it’s not real… nothing is coming for you… you’re asleep, Will, you’re asleep…

“Don’t be afraid…”

Ignore it. Just go to sleep. Just go to sleep… it’s nothing…. it’s not real…

“This will only hurt for a minute…”

Oh, my God, I’m gonna die.

“Die… die…. die… die…. die….”

They can read my thoughts… they can read my thoughts! Holy shit, what kind of voodoo freak ghosts am I dealing with? I’m going to die.

A knife was sharpened. It sounded like it was right next to me. Oh, God. This was it; the end, the end of my life. There was so much I hadn’t done. I was only twenty-one. I never got to strike gold and make it big. I never got to beat my brother at Just Dance 3. (Not that we ever played that.) I never got to swim with dolphins. I never got to go bungee jumping. I never got to buy a pet monkey. Worst of all, I never got to make my mom proud. All she wanted was for me to settle down, live my dreams and be happy. But I was going to die a penniless, grouchy, serial womanizer and let her down.

“Run.”

Shit, it didn’t need to tell me twice. I jumped out of bed and ran for it, heading straight towards my brother’s room. I burst the door wide open and almost tripped over my brother’s sleeping figure.

He groaned from the floor. “What the hell? Will?”

I turned on the light and took a shaky breath. “I, uh—I can explain.”

“What the hell happened to you? You’re pale as a ghost.”

“Don’t say that word!” Realizing the volume of my voice, I lowered it and spoke again. “They’ll hear you…”

“You’re not still going on about this, are you?”

“I heard it. I heard them, Eric. They were fucking whispering in my ear! Do you know what it feels like to wake up to heavy breathing and creepy whispering? You know what it was saying? ‘Death… death… death… die… die… die…’ And when it told me to run, you bet I made a run for it.”

My rambling made Taylor sit up from her—well, Eric’s—bed, groggily rubbing her eyes. “What?”

“My brother seems to think he’s being haunted,” Eric said, still squinting in the sudden light.

“I don’t think I’m being haunted. I know I’m being haunted.”

“It’s two in the morning. Just go back to sleep, Will.”

“But it’s there,” I whispered, pointing towards the hallway since I couldn’t point towards my room. Well, I guess I could have pointed sideways, but whatever. “It’s waiting for me to come back…”

Eric looked at me with an exasperated look on his face. “You know what I think? I think you’re so scared of being haunted you’re starting to hallucinate.”

“I am not. I’m not crazy, Eric. I know what I heard,” I insisted.

He plopped back down on his make-shift bed on the floor and closed his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

I looked over at Sniffles to see if she believed me, but she was already asleep again.

“Damn it. Screw you both. When I die, you’re gonna feel pretty fucking guilty,” I snapped, slamming the door behind me as I walked out.

The thought of going back inside my room made me want to projectile vomit over the staircase, so I went downstairs instead, turning on the lights as soon as I got down there. Imagine my surprise when I looked around and saw the room had been rearranged a little. When I walked into the kitchen, I found that all of the cabinet doors had been opened. But the clincher, the one that nearly made my heart stop, was the message written in blood on the wall. HELP ME.

I’d never run so fast in my life. With every other place contaminated, the only place I could think of was the bathroom. At least there, I wouldn’t pee myself with fear. There was a toilet.

I ran inside, slamming the door shut behind me, breathing a sigh of relief. But that relief vanished when I looked up and saw another message written in blood, this time on the mirror. YOU CAN’T RUN.

That was when I passed out, although, I was sad to report, I still managed to make the most high-pitched sound I’d ever made in my life and scream like a little girl.

***

So I decided to google creepy sounds to see if this was actually scary enough to make a grown man pass out, and the videos it directed me to... well, let's just say I won't be sleeping tonight. I need to stop writing at 2 AM.