Numbered Rooms

Chapter 1

Julia

We all stormed into the decrepit wreck. The stench of mould was intense, it looked merely Victorian.
The damp hallway was remarkably long, with countless amounts of doors on either side.
Strangely the doors were individually hand painted with numbers, but looked noticeably distressed. Probably from age.
The hallway had no windows, all there was, was a small table by the stairs with a very weepy rose perched in a petite china vase, looking very dead.
Jak, Damon and Mia cautiously advanced upstairs.
While me and Ethan chose to stay downstairs.
"Hey Ethan!" I shouted over to him.
He was further down the hallway, carefully observing the bizarre numbers on the doors.
"Hey?" He turned to me, clearly confused.
I laughed. It gently echoed through the house.
"What?" He demanded.
"Stay with me?" I asked "It would be better if we stay together in this place." I exclaimed.
Ethan was a tall buff guy, with thick blonde hair, and was deeply obsessed with zombie video games. He's the guy to be with during a zombie apocalypse.
Although that won't ever happen.
"Fair play" He agreed, and came over to me.
He clutched tightly onto his shotgun, it was loaded. Probably because he thought this place was full of zombies.
I grinned, and started to pace down the overcast hallway. Ethan was closely behind.
The door I went to though, was "13" most people find it unlucky, but it's my lucky number, and for me, has always brought hope.
Ethan sniggered, and advanced in first, gun at the ready.
"We're not in a zombie apocalypse Ethan!" I muttered.
He ignored me.
So I strode in behind him.
The room, was very shabby, and extremely outdated. Plaster was chipped, and a dusty chandelier was dangling from the cracked ceiling. A vast rustic bed made out of mahogany sat, filling most of the tiny room. It was one of those grand beds that only people from about 100 years ago would have stopped sleeping in.
Ew.
I casually walked over to the-yet again-outdated bedside table (which was also was mahogany) it had two mini drawers with stained silver handles.
I wrapped my hands around the small handles, and pulled the draw open. It took a lot of forcing, and shrieked its way open.
"God, what on earth could make such a loud noise?!" Ethan Complained.
"These drawers." I laughed.
"Oh, Whatever." He turned to the odd looking wardrobe, and pulled it open.
It creaked. Loudly.
"See what I mean?" I exclaimed
"Alright, I do now." He smiled.
I turned back around. Determined to find what was in the drawer.
I pulled out a grubby letter with the date "1718" with the initials "V.J" neatly written on the front.
"Julia?!" Ethan Slowly called.
"Uh yeah?" I asked. I turned around, to see him still in front of a wide opened wardrobe; I sped up my pace, to get to him. Just as I got to him, I heard a smashing noise from outside.
"Ethan, I will be right back." I called.
I went back into the dimmed hallway, and slowly went over to the stairs, where the china vase was.
It lay there shattered into tiny pieces. I felt a shiver prickle down my spine, I turned around, and to my horror, stood a pale slender figure.
It stretched out its far reaching, bony fingers towards me.
"ETHAN?!" I screamed.
I started backing up, but fell over the vase.
The glass cut most of me, but It wasn't serious. Although I don't think I have the strength to get up...
Ethan came bursting through the thirteenth door, shotgun in hand.
The monster bent over and stared. It's deep black eyes reading my soul.
Out of curiosity?
I think not.
It looked over its...
Shoulder?
In the direction where Ethan was.
And quickly looked down at me again. It began to lift up its fingers with exceedingly sharp nails.
It stabbed them into me in a space of a few seconds.
I shuddered at the feel of it. It was cold, yet not as painful as expected.
It dug its hand deeper. I could feel it moving inside of me.
I started having the need to breathe much more deeply. I felt the blood pour out of my chest.
It was like having an operation without antibiotics...
painful.
I didn't want to look at my chest, since it's probably bad enough.
"I'm sorry Julia, but I must." Ethan called to me.
I heard the fire of his gun, and felt the monster fall onto me.
And felt a bullet drive into my side.
I can't imagine a worse way to die.
I loved him.