OddityVille: Ground Floor (Book One)

Chapter Six: Stick and Splints

The room sits silently as Lindsy watches the clock, tracking each second that passes. It nears four in the morning when she entangles both injured fingers in those of the other hand. The seconds remaining before the hour count less than thirty as she shuts her eyes and listens to their sequencing. Tick. tock. tick. tock. ti-

Two consecutive pops muffle the sound of the hour, minute, and second hands meeting. Lindsy squeaks as the pain fills her head with adrenalin and covers her mouth to keep from screaming. She then gets up- ignoring it as best she can- and rummages through different drawers and cabinets. She concludes her brief search by placing a coil of clear tape, a ruler, and a pair of scissors on her desk and returns to the chair. Then, she uses her good hand to snap the ruler in thirds against the station's edge and rests the injuries against one piece of it. Next, she gathers up the tape and sticks the loose end on her bare flesh; rolling it over the swelling surface and tucking it beneath the segmented ruler. Once the piece is firmly in place, she takes another, laying it flat along her knuckles. With both pieces secure, she cuts the tape and lightly rubs it over the layers. She inspects her work, trying to hold her quivering body still as the scratching returns. Her eyes dart over to the white paint. She imagines what the nails must look like as they dig into the lumpy, cold surface, but knows that her own mind could never produce such an awful picture. Dry, chipping, bleeding fingertips with the white paint turning pink, if not crimson beneath each nailbed. She shivers at the thought and gets back to her feet as both knees wobble under what little weight she applies to them. The clawing becomes tapping- or dripping- at this point. Lindsy continues to keep her thoughts busy in the worst way and assumes that the girl is either becoming impatient with her or is letting the blood of mangled fingers fall to the floor, collecting in a puddle of deathly red- or black.

The office door glides open as Lindsy peaks into the hall. A small wave of relief washes over her as the lobby lights flush against her face. Knowing that there is still hope, she closes the door and faces the nearest camera. The eye is pointing directly at her and she takes a moment to stare into it, knowing all too well that Jeff is staring back. The lumination overhead goes in and out several times, joined by that over conference room 139. Lindsy pulls a baton from the back of her belt and keeps it close as she approaches the next caller location. As with the others, the room appears to be a dark void from the crack against the floor. The darkness inside seems to actually be heavier than that in the hall each time the light above gives out. With little to no hesitation, she kicks the door open and lifts the baton above her head, ready to swing at any little motion she sees beyond it. A draft of cold air rushes passed, pushing small strands of hair back as she psychotically jerks her head around, trying to gather as much visual aid from where she stands without having to move forward. Swiftly, she throws a hand into the shadows and flips a switch on the wall. The room uncloaks itself and she sighs once the tile is exposed. The polish reflects back at her and shows that there is no pool of blood and the wall she had heard scratching against was unmarked.

"I know you're in here. Show yourself!" Lindsy knocks her baton against the door as she steps forward, sending an echo through the room. She continues to look around frantically, unsure of where the girl might be as she proceeds forward. Skreake. Lindsy locks her eyes on a wheeled chalkboard opposite of her. The board's surface is covered in smudged chalk and several insignificant portions of unintelligible writing. She makes out three bare spots in the smudging and squints at them as she puts her left heel against the floor, keeping her toes arched upward. "I found you."

"Try again! Hehe!" Light, fast footsteps smack against the hall floor, seemingly having just left the room Lindsy is in. Her heart jumps in her throat as she spins toward the sounds, almost losing her balance in the process.

"Wait! No!" The child giggles again as Lindsy goes in pursuit of her. As she breaches the hall she catches sight of the girl's gown slipping around the furthest corner of the building that can be seen. She wastes no time and charges in the same direction. Once she reaches the same turn the girl had taken she bumps against the wall, having been running too fast to slow herself prior. She stumbles but quickly finds her balance and continues on her way. She hears the child giggle when this happens as if the little girl can still see her, even being so far ahead. "Please, stop!"

"You gotta catch me!"

"I," Lindsy huffs as she rushes down the third turn, "can't!" The girl cackles as her small footsteps grow more distant. The sound encourages Lindsy to keep going, but the throbbing in her head fights against her. Each heartbeat feels like a fist pounding against the base of her skull. She scrunches her nose and bares her top row of teeth as the organ slams against her chest, pumping hot liquid through her veins. Exhausted by her injuries and fear, Lindsy slows to a halt and bends forward to rest her hands on her knees. "I CAN'T!" The scream reverberates down the hall as each following footstep becomes more and more distant. "I can't!" Tears trickle down her face as she drops to her knees and lets her head hang loosely at her neck. "I don't want to play... anymore."

"Okay." The disappointed reply surprises Lindsy and her sobbing ceases. She breathes heavily, trying to stop the fire that burns in her lungs, and keeps her eyes on the small, salty pool she had made on the floor. Every corner of the liquid- except for her own- was shining. "One more round then! I will find you." The voice shifts in tone from the last time Lindsy had heard it use these words. It seemed almost excited the last time, but this time, it seems menacing.

Lindsy huffs several more times before making it up on one leg; her other knee still on the ground. As she completes this motion, an unnervingly familiar pop fills the air. She holds her breath and looks back at the puddle. The reflective arch is broken in the middle and now forms only two wavey lines on either side. She raises her chin to be sure that her eyes are not deceiving her. What she sees encourages her to get on her feet immediately. At the far end of the hall, a single light is out, and within the darkness is the girl. They stare at each other without speaking before the girl starts to raise an arm. Lindsy watches, seemingly paralyzed by the sight before her. She can hear the creaking of old bones as the arm reaches its full extension and directs a thin finger at her. The cry of a banshee rushes toward Lindsy as the lights begin to burst one-by-one in front of the child. With each burst, sparks shoot away from the shattered glass and the girl manifests under the next set of shadows. Lindsy covers the drums in her head as the child continuously vanishes and reappears closer than where she last stood. The dark hair masks every part of the face but a brutally extended jaw that reaches the base of the neck. It sits crookedly against the rest of the body and judders as the forced scream shreds what remains of the vocal cords beneath it.

Lindsy's own feet violently kick off the tile as she sprints back the way she came, racing against the clattering glass behind her. With each extended step she takes, the light ahead grows dimmer as those that separate her from the child become fewer and fewer. The cry becomes louder as the security office comes into view and Lindsy can faintly make out the sound of bones grinding together as the child's neck rattles so close to her. Her heart feels like it might explode as she rushes through the lobby and every light around her goes out. The cry stops as she is engulfed by the night, but she continues to run. Her own heaving and steel-toed shoes are all that exist now. As she bathes in the LED above the office a hard tug from behind throws her feet out in front of her and wrenches her head back. She slams her shoulder blades and skull against the floor, but ignores the pain long enough to pull the rest of her head out of the shadows. She stays where she is for several moments, her chest rapidly filling with air and collapsing once more. Then, the rattling sounds return, now coming from where her feet rest rather than where she had run from. She lifts her dazed eyes to see the girl a few inches away from the light, crouched in front of 239 with an outstretched hand. In the fist it creates, a bundle of lengthy loose hairs entangles her pale blue fingers. As the girl backs out of sight, Lindsy runs her palm over the base of her skull and finds a smooth spot. Roughly two inches above the area is another that pours blood. The sensitivity makes her vision blurry on contact and she quickly removes the pressure she had applied to it.

The rattling stops once more and Lindsy rolls over, unsure of if she can stand. She proceeds to crawl closer to the office door before twisting the knob. As the door swings open, the light above 139 fails and she hurries to pull herself inside and slam the door. The childish giggling she had heard all night seems to have no intentions of returning as she leans against the wooden entry and listens to what sounds like wet feet plop down several times in a distant area. She finds some comfort in this, as it means she is alone and for the first time on this night, being alone is all she wants.