Jane stood there staring at the woman, listening to her thoughts scream at her for trusting either of them. She turned away from the woman and took a step towards the stairwell. The house shook furiously as she did and a blood curdling scream echoed through the house.
The molded wood panels were breaking from the walls and the plants were turning to sludge. The house itself was transforming from a "normal" house, with magic and murderers, to a molded, broken down, abandoned looking building. The carpet began to singe until it was burned to divided pieces of an ancient rug. The patterns woven into it were gone and replaced by scorched black patches. The doors were breaking down and formed splintered wooden pieces on the floor and the wallpapers of the rooms began to peel.
The padded walls of the room she had once subsisted were torn and had vines weaving through them. The floor panels began to lift and curve to reveal wild plants growing beneath them. Thorn bushes and thistles, wild flowers and weeds pushed their way past the destroyed wood and revealed the house at its truest, weakest form.
The grandfather clock from which the sword came was covered in moss and the gears and springs poured from the open clock mechanism. The pendulum was on the bottom of the clock, the gold coating rusting away. The computer was lying on the broken, molded desk and the screen was cracked beyond any form of repair. The remnants of Lucy's room were torn and cloaked in vines. The bird cage was mysteriously untouched and still contained the doll. Her creepy stare had been untouched, like time couldn't penetrate the worn metal of the cage bars.
Jane peered up at the shaking ceiling. She looked to the old woman and saw a tear fall onto the cracked cement floor. She was ashamed of her daughter.
Annabelle exited her stone tomb on the wall and hurried out the door. Her eyes grew unnaturally wide and her mouth stretched into an unholy gape as she screamed. Her small hands formed claws and the tips of her feet sharpened to a point. As she reached the trap door, the old woman raised her hand towards it.
Jane stared at the small door, her anger transforming into fear. She was allowing the creature to feed from her. She thought back again to how that man had let his daughter die and how she had been kidnapped, taken from her life and brought to this hell hole. Once again anger swelled up inside her, and she was grateful.
She looked back at the woman and saw her hand raised. She was keeping Annabelle out of the small chamber. She could hear the girl shrieking outside her only exit. Her blood curdling scream echoed throughout her mind.
"Ready the sword." The old woman's voice was cracking, and her legs began to disintegrate. "It is the only thing that can kill her. Hold it up. Up in front of you. She will come for you first." Jane nodded and held the sword in front of her defensively. Her anger was once again departing; even the thought of the wretched man would not bring it back.
Jane looked down and realized that Annabelle betrayed her. The girl did want Lucy dead and she was trying to kill all of those innocent people. Annabelle was the one feeding from the fear and she was the one in control of the house. She had said that she was stronger than her mother, so she is the one who traps people here and waits for them to die. Feeding from their fear and killing them off.
The woman collapsed onto the floor and the small exit imploded. Wood scattered across the cement floor and Annabelle, mutated and unholy, flashed into the room. She stopped inches away from the swords tip. Her gaping mouth was closed into a large frown, her shriek was silenced.
