Famous Last Words

Can You Hear Me Cry Out to You?

By now I was getting good at pretending, or at least that's what I was telling myself. In my mind I was handling it well. What I was actually doing was telling myself I was imagining it all, that it wasn't really happening. That way I could pretend it wasn't bothering me. Yes, that's what I was doing. I was giving an outward impression that I could handle it all and I was brave. That none of this was touching me and I was just getting on with everything. Yeah, that's what I was telling myself. It's amazing what you can convince yourself of, even if you don't actually believe it. Truth was, I didn't believe it and no one else was going to either. But by now it was as if there were two of me and the me that wanted to believe that everything was okay was managing to override the other me that was falling apart. I kept the other me, the scared wreck of a man, out of the loop with alcohol and pills. If he wasn't coherent, then how could he be scared? Make sense?

No, I know. I look back on this now and I don't know what scares me more – what happened or how I reacted to it.

The rest of the day after the incident in the library, I pretty much kept to myself. I didn't know the guys were worried. Well, I guessed that they might be concerned about what was going on, after all they had all experienced it by now, but it never occurred to me that I was adding to the problem with my behaviour. The thing is, previously it had all happened at night before and now, the daytime and the library had been invaded by whatever was haunting this place. The library, my one safe place in the whole building had been taken from me. I felt alone, isolated. I drew into myself, which only made things worse for Gerard.He grew increasingly concerned but it was as if I couldn't see it. I was blinkered, blindfolded, eyes shut tight like a child afraid of the dark. But I was afraid, because I knew that something in the dark was coming for me.

As it turned out, that night I was to be proved wrong and for the first time since we arrived, I wholeheartedly wished it had come for me.

*

It was late. Very late. Downstairs the clock had chimed the half hour, but I didn't know which hour. If I were to guess it would be two or three. Sleep had come to me slowly and when it had it was brief and filled with nightmares. Usually when you wake from a nightmare, you're glad. Even if it's a particularly vivid nightmare and you still feel scared on waking, you're glad it's over.Breathing returns to normal, a sip of water and you're ready to sleep again. Not me. Waking from a nightmare in that room was always terrifying.

The room exuded the feeling that it had created the nightmare that your disturbing and chilling dreams were merely an appetiser; a taste of what was really to come. The atmosphere was thick and hostile making breathing, even swallowing difficult.Shadows seemed darker, and more opaque than they should be. It was as if they were black masses, real things with a life of their own, hiding from me, ready to attack if I for a moment glanced away. My mind was already racing when I heard the splash of water coming from the adjoining bathroom. My heart plummeted and hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might explode. I felt the heat of panic wash over me and only then did I notice the faint light underneath the bathroom door.

I've never thought of myself as brave and whenever Gerard and I would watch a horror movie, we always berated the people who never put lights on or went down into the cellar even though they heard the screams. Yet, here I was, out of bed before I even realised it and without switching on even a lamp, I was edging slowly towards the bathroom door.

As I approached , there was more splashing, I even saw what looked like water coming under the door. More splashing, banging like someone thumping or kicking the bathtub, muffled screaming, gurgling and finally, as I placed my hand on the door handle, the most chilling laughter I ever heard in my life.

I was rooted to the spot. Ice-cold water lapped at my feet as the laughter continued and the rest of the noise finally subsided, leaving only the sound of water gently swishing back and forth in the tub. If what was happening was real, then had I just allowed someone to be murdered in my bathroom? Was it real? Could it be real? The water snaking around my feet felt real. The laughter still ringing in my ears sounded real enough. And then, of course, it hit me – if it was real, we were the only ones here.Who was in there?