Crossing the Line

Chapter Eight

Miki absolutely hated being left alone. Even if her friends were asleep in the bed right in front of her, she may as well have been the only person there. Sleeping people could not make conversation. Sleeping people could not put a comforting arm around you. Sleeping people could not assure you that everything was going to be alright.

Sure, nothing had happened in the hour since she'd taken Asiyah's spot on the chair, which she was extremely grateful for, but anxiety does not listen to rational thought.

Richard's tale of the basement remained vivid in her mind, twisted by her fearful imagination. Her eyes darted around the room, staying peeled for any sort of shadow. Her heart pounded furiously whenever she saw one, only to calm down slightly when she realised that the shadow was not a humanoid shape. They were only cast by the trees outside, or herself, barely noticeable from the rest of the darkness in the room.

Her unease was intensified by the porcelain doll on the vanity, its glass eyes staring eternally. It hadn't been long until she noticed it, and no matter what she told herself, those eyes that somehow managed to stand out in the darkness were surely staring straight at her. She'd often seen the old dolls in movies, and in photos their history teacher showed the class of her family, and they'd always freaked her out. Figures that the first time she'd see one would be in here. Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore, and leapt out of the chair to turn it around. On her way back to her post, Miki steered clear of the bed, childhood tales of monsters resurfacing in her mind, pictures of something reaching out from under the bed skirt and grabbing her... 

She shook her head, as if it would help her clear her mind.

The girls had thought of this room as a safe haven, but sounds could still be heard from outside. She wished desperately for them to stop. But more importantly, she wished that they would be able to leave. Why had everything been sealed shut in the first place?

Making her jump about a metre in the air, the sound of a door slamming came from down the hall. She curled up on the chair, shaking as the house grew silent. Her fingers were clutched around the spiralled back of the chair, going white. Why had it gone silent? Had something that scared even spirits appeared? Perhaps Richard had just stormed out of the boys' room... that could be scary... She clung to that idea in desperation, as more terrifying ideas reared their ugly heads.

A few minutes of agonising silence later, there came a knocking at the door. Miki bit her lip. There was another knock. It was calm - not fearful, not angry. Just a knock. The boys wouldn't come to them if it wasn't an emergency, right? Another knock came, and she screwed her eyes shut. Tears began to well up in her eyes when the knocking stopped, until she heard a voice. A soft, calm, and most importantly, familiar voice.

"Miki, can you please let me in? It's Nikolai."

In a flood of relief, Miki darted from the chair and padded across the room to the door. Although Nikolai wouldn't really talk like that, rather, he'd start a sentence like that with a 'Hey!' or something, Miki didn't care. She was desperate to not be alone anymore. This plan of staying in the house was a horrible one. As she got to the door, she planned on wrapping her arms tightly around him, and burying her face into his chest. And then she would feel safe. And then she opened the door-

-But she was not met with the kind, freckled, smiling face she had been expecting; instead, it was gaunt, twisted, and transparent. Long hair fell down its back, and it appeared to smile as Miki screamed in terror. It reached forward in an attempt to grab her, knobbly, deformed arm pushed back when another figure sped down the hallway and tackled it to the floor. Miki could only watch as the spirits seemed to brawl on the floor. She felt nailed to the spot, unable to look away from the spectacle even though she started to sway on her feet. When the first let out an ungodly screech, she was only just able to close the door before she fainted.

* * *

With nothing else to do, Nikolai found himself eagerly counting down the seconds until he and Richard could swap shifts. He wanted to sleep. To dream. To get away from this place. Richard was lucky enough to not be on guard. So he could sleep. He'd fallen asleep not too long after giving Nikolai his sister's puffer.

He was fairly certain that the deafening silence would drive him crazy. All he could hear was Richard's and his own breathing. They'd been worried about what could be in the house before, but apart from before, they hadn't seen anything. Perhaps all their worry was for naught.

Occasionally, as he lay in the dark, the face of the figure - ghost? - that had been outside crossed his mind, and he wondered why it bore such resemblance to him. He wasn't dead. How could he be there, on the inside of the door, seeing it, if he was? How could he be here now if he was? Nikolai wasn't certain of many things, but he was quite certain that he'd know if he was dead.

The only person he knew who was dead died when he was nine, not sixteen. It would be impossible for him to look the same age as Nikolai. Right? Plus, how would a ghost get from Volgograd to Sydney? 

But... if it was him, ten the message in the mirror would make sense... Could he have been the one trying to stop them from getting into the house?

No. It was stupid. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Impossible. Nikolai stopped thinking about it - doing so only made him feel sick. The similarities in their features had to have been a trick out the light - but was that even possible with ghosts? Stop it, Nikolai, he thought to himself, checking the time. 2:37am. He still had almost an hour on guard. He and Richard were to swap again at 3:30.

Fortunately, Nikolai was used to staying up until this time of night. Unfortunately, however, he was currently running on two hours of sleep.

He tried his hardest to fight it off, he told himself later. He really did. He'd been playing games on his phone, reading, and even physically trying to hold his eyelids open, but, within ten minutes, the dangerous tendrils of sleep wrapped themselves around his mind, and he, too, became dead to the world.