Horror Mansion: Short Stories

Five - The Lady In The Walls

Gretta had been sitting on her couch for nearly three hours, listening to the distant tick of a clock, and contemplating the likelihood that she was an alcoholic.

She downed the rest of her day-old beer and pressed her fingers down her temples. Yeah, she thought, definitely an alcoholic, one that has dug a hole so deep she couldn't get out of it, let alone getting out of her own apartment. It was more than she could bear. Though the reasons behind the unease were still a mystery to her, Gretta couldn't deny the fact that for the past two and a half months the only reason she set foot outside was to buy a six-pack, a bottle of red wine, or, in very rare instances, a bottle of gin. Even more worrisome than the possibility that she drank too much was the fact that Gretta hadn't worked in the six months it had taken to properly file for divorce, retrieve her belongings, and move from the Upper East Side to the Upper West. Her checking account was dried up, her savings would last her only another month or two, and yet she had made no effort to gain more.

But she actually knew why, she only liked to tell herself that she didn't and she chuckled about it. She had built her life around Trevor. He was her husband, but even before they were married he had been her business partner and trusted confidant in all matters profitable. She was diagnosed with depression, high functioning anxiety, but Trevor still loved her. When the marriage ended, Gretta didn't need to lose everything, but she gave it up voluntarily. Reflecting back, she could now say that surrendering the assets to Trevor was a desperate and foolish measure intended to win him back. Again she chuckled to herself. 

Something like that wouldn't win him back at all, she thought. A failed measure, but at the time it felt right.

The sad truth was that it had only taken six months to sink her from her perch as a high powered corporate executive down to the fractured shell of a woman she was today: one who sat on the couch all day and drank, maybe with the T.V. on, who yelled at the neighbors through the walls at the slightest loud noise, a woman who had no plans for her days so she had no reason to bathe. She hated Trevor for all of it, and, at the same time, she still loved him. She was aware of everything that was happening, yet had no energy to do anything about it now. Her high functioning anxiety had just become regular old anxiety, with a major hint of depression, and nowadays she swears something is screwing with her.

Gretta lifted her passive gaze from observing the wall clock and glanced over at the humming refrigerator. She hadn't left the apartment today, so if the fridge was empty, that would give her a reason to go out.

Beyond her windows, night had fallen on the streets. The wind whipped a sign outside, causing it to rattle loudly. Gretta really didn't want to venture out, so when she peered inside the refrigerator and saw that she still had a six-pack of Sierra Nevada I.P.A., she pulled up her sweatpants, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and called it one of life's small victories. Or maybe she should take a long hard look at herself: the ratty sweats, the unwashed hair, the bottle in her hand, the fact that discovering she could drink was the highlight of her entire day; this was no way to live. So Gretta resolved that tonight would be her last moments of wallowing. She would allow herself to savor the sloth she had become this evening, but tomorrow morning, first thing, she'd shower, hit the gym, set up an online dating profile, and show the world that she was ready to embrace it, just like she did every other night.

Suddenly, a thud. Her heart rate picked up.

It was the living room window. From across the room, Gretta could clearly see a nasty crack right at the center of it. The closer she got, the more it looked like a spider's web. She placed her trembling fingertip on the glass, but was distracted by the sound of boys laughing outside. Delinquents, she thought, but a breath of fresh air followed after. This is real. This is what she got for moving into a first floor apartment. She contemplated whether or not she should step out, but ultimately decided that it was time for a drink.