Call Me (HIATUS)

Chapter Two: Clare?

I left the bathroom just in time to see the house mother, Miss Mac, struggling to open the door. "And speaking of professional virgins," mentioned Barb, "here comes the queen of Vaudeville circa 1861."

"Hey, can I get a hand out here?" called Miss Mac, her voice muffled by the door.

"I'll get it!" I exclaimed, eager to do something to get my mind off of the threat. I yanked the door open, causing Miss Mac and the packages she was carrying to tumble to the ground. "Oh! I-I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, leaning down to pick up the parcels from the floor as Phyl rushed over to help me.

"No, it's okay, dear," She assured. "I'm quite alright." 

I was concerned regardless, as Jess rushed into the room. "Oh, Where have you been?" questioned Jess as she helped the stout lady up.

"I've been shopping," She explained somewhat dismissively. "You know how big the store is, and how spectacular it is this time of year," she joked sarcastically. The girls laughed at her joke.

"Miss Mac, come with us in the other room, we've got a surprise for you!" exclaimed Barb excitedly, escorting her to the living room. Phyl walked beside me, clearly excited.

"Hey, where's Clare?" I inquired her, wondering why the newest sister wasn't with us.

"Oh, she went to pack. She and her father are going to see family this Christmas," she explained casually. I nodded.

"I think I'm gonna go check on her." I paused. "I just wanna see if she's okay, y'know?" I added finally. 

"Alright," Phyl responded hesitantly, glaring at me a bit skeptically. "Just be back soon," She requested.

"Don't worry," I assured, "You won't even know I'm gone!"

I ascended to the second floor, making my way to Clare's room. I turned the corner, clutching the doorknob, and silently opening the door. "Hey, Clare? Are you-" I squeaked as our fluffy cat, Claude, scrambled past me. "Claude! You naughty kitty!" I exclaimed with half-hearted amusement. I walked inside, only getting a few steps in before a gasping, animalistic cry pinned me to the inside wall.

I watched helplessly, tears fogging my gaze, as Clare was suffocated by an unseen assailant. I clapped a hand over my mouth, wetting my lips with my sweaty palms. Clare struggled and turned to me, her gasping cries causing my initial terror to shift to guilt. "Virginia... help..." she begged pathetically, causing me to gag. "V... Virginia..." She took a few more strangled gasps, then fell silent, slouching against her assailant as he kneeled to support the dead weight.

Her eyes, though dead, still bore pleadingly into me, causing me to regret my pathetic lack of action. Her mouth was agape, and her face was pale and filled with terror. My stance wobbled at the sight and I lost my balance, bumping into the doorframe with a quiet thud.

The killer's head snapped upward, his eyes meeting mine. Neither of us moved for a few moments, allowing me time to take in his appearance. His hair was thick and unkempt, the dark brown hue appearing black in the shadows. He wore a blue plaid button-up with denim jeans.  His face was strangely sunburnt, and his eyes...

He stared at me for what felt like an eternity, his strange, blue-eyed gaze drinking in every inch of my body. His eyes flicked from my hand to my chest, then to my stomach, and back to my hand. After what must have been twenty minutes, he slowly raised a finger to his mouth and uttered a single command: "Shhhh. Don't tell, Agnes." I nodded fearfully, my dread growing as he stood up and began walking towards me, Clare's body in his arms. 

I fell onto my knees at the side of the door, watching as he carried her to the attic. he wordlessly propped her on the wall as he brought down the attic's ladder. He clutched her foot and, with one last glance at my shivering, terrified body, dragged her into the attic.

I gasped after what felt like an eternity, registering what had just taken place. The man... he had killed Clare. I'd never wake up to see her telling Barb to sober up, I'd never laugh at her sense of humor, and I'd never get to be with her. And as for her... She'd never joke with us, she'd never laugh with her boyfriend, she'd never experience what life had in store for her. 

My legs shaking, I walked downstairs to face a very concerned Barb. "Hey, Virginia? Are you okay?" she asked, unsettled by my shaken condition.

I responded after a pause. "Y-yeah, yeah, I'm alright," I answered finally. "Just a little buzzed is all."

Barb frowned, clearly not convinced by my poorly crafted lie. "Mmm-hmm," she hummed skeptically. "Well then, why don't you get some rest?" she suggested. "We all know you have a horrible alcohol tolerance." she punched my arm playfully.

"Heh, yeah, I'll do that," I agreed. I began making my way upstairs. "Goodnight, Barb," I called with feigned drowsiness. 

"Goodnight, Virginia," She replied, walking over to the kitchen for yet another drink. "Sleep well."

"Uh-huh," I responded quietly, glancing at Clare's now vacant room. I sighed shakily, tears welling up at the corners of my eyes. It was all so sudden. One moment she was with us, and the next, she's a corpse in an attic. I shuddered to think what the murderer would do with her body. 

I silently trudged into my room, collapsing on the bed as the tears began to streak down my face. I sobbed as quietly as I could, the odd strangled gasp escaping my lips every so often. Clare was dead. She was dead. It was still so hard for me to come to terms with the fact. Despite seeing her body to myself, I hoped to see her at any moment, cracking open the door to tell me that her father had arrived and she had to leave.

But she wouldn't. I knew in my heart that she wouldn't come back to life, no matter how much wishing and hoping I did.

And I sobbed even louder as the phone rang from downstairs.