FicWad

I'd suggest you listen to Nox Arcana (Carnival of Lost Souls, especially), because the whole album sort of sets the mood. At least, that's what I listened to as I edited this.
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The Poison
Chapter Four
Open your eyes
And I’ll keep mine closed
The worst thing about Bat and Cobweb pasta would be how hard it is to wash by hand. I spent almost a half hour scrubbing at the two plates with my short fingernails, gritting my teeth in frustration, and still they weren’t clean! The whole ordeal was as annoying as it was halfway amusing- I suppose I must have looked funny, so tempted to yell at plates and smash them on the ground.
I guessed that Gerard had already retired to bed, because he had disappeared as soon as I cleared the table, leaving me to clean the dishes alone. As I did so, I sang a little, something that I had not done in a long while- it seemed that I had been picking up more and more of my old habits in the time that I spent here. It was a weird little yarn, almost tuneless in itself, but regardless, it sounded nice. Finally, I finished scraping off the last bits of hardened pasta and set them on the rack to dry. I wiped my hands on my skirt as I padded down the hall, not wanting to wake Gerard. Back in my room, I simply wore my clothes to bed.
I switched the twin lamps off and crawled underneath the quilt, wishing for a sound night of sleep.
Sadly, the drowsiness did not come.
I kicked off the sheets and walked over to the window and snapped open the blinds, staring blankly at the ubiquitous stars and white half moon until it hurt my eyes.
For no reason at all, I waited in the high-backed chair, expecting the door to swing open and a streak of light to fall across the floor, and Gerard would come in and finish what he had started.
But he wouldn’t. Because I would have already jumped out the window- twenty-five feet to my happy demise.
Eventually, a thin stripe of light did cut across the floorboards, but instead of Gerard, the ghost stood there, peering tentatively around the door. She set one foot into the room, then another, all the while looking around cautiously. When she was fully in the room, she straightened and sighed happily.
“There you are.” she said to me.
“Huh?”
“Been looking all over for you, Gee.” she grinned, shutting the door behind her.
She walked over to the bed, sitting down on it gently, as though to not disturb someone that was also on the bed. I pulled my knees up to my chest, watching intently. I knew for sure what I was watching wasn’t actually taking place- just a replaying of a past event. A recurring haunt, as I believe it was called.
“Yeah, sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner.” She continued, scratching the back of her head almost sheepishly. “I know it’s late, but we have to eat sometime, right? Oh don’t worry, I already put her to bed.”
It was almost like she was having a conversation with herself. Pausing for a few minutes each sentence, as if another person were right there beside her, talking to her. Most likely she was talking to Gerard, hence the nickname ‘Gee’, but why wasn’t he taking part in the apparition?
Probably because he’s still alive. I thought, giving the room a cursory glance to see if he had appeared.
Seeing that he didn’t, I unfolded my legs and set my feet on the floor, hesitating only for a second.
-.-.-
The scene was still playing over and over again as I left, completely undisturbed by the noise I made by shutting the door. The rest of the house was quiet as a graveyard, and as I made my way to the locked room neighboring mine, the wooden floors remained silent- almost as though they wanted me to see the room. A split second was spent wondering whether I should spend night hours sneaking around or not, then hastily pushed aside as my fingers closed around the cold brass doorknob.
Of course it was locked.
It was when I checked the last time, and it would be locked the next time I would check, too.
That should’ve been obvious in retrospect.
But then, the human mind works in funny ways. You think you did something stupid a month ago, but then, you thought it wasn’t. I guess we’re all just perfectionists, constantly harping about our mistakes and begging for second chances.
I jerked the knob to the right, to the left, up and down. Obviously this had no effect on the steadfast lock- unless I had a crowbar, this door would remain closed. I sighed, tempted to bang my stupid head on the hard wood, possibly knocking a bit more sense into my brain cells. But no, that was sure to wake Gerard. I turned back to my bedroom, noting absently that the haunting has ceased. A brief idea that the door in the bathroom may be unlocked flashed through me like a bullet, easing away the mild frustration. I turned to the door, obstructed by the tubular chimney and reach for the door. This time, no hesitation holds me back, no guilt pools in my fingers.
The first door opens easily into the soft, tan bathroom. Artificial candles flooded the room in gentle yellow light, placed almost strategically to fall directly on the second door.
Flames and doorknobs and cupboards and books. A mantra rings through my skull like a church bell. The shattering cold of the doorknob penetrating my skin. My universe is seven feet of dark wood and whatever lies behind it.
I almost expected there to be a black hole in the room, or a parallel universe or something. Maybe a downed UFO or a sack of dead, furry animals. But then, my imagination didn’t quite run away with me like I hoped, because instead of an invisible space vacuum that would compress my body into a single atom, I felt soft carpeting below my socks. The whole room was baby blue, with a plastic sculpture of butterflies on the wall across from me. A white crib sat in the corner, covered with light blue gingham checks. Toys were scattered about the floor.
A baby’s room.
I felt surprised, more than anything, that Gerard, scary, morbid, rapist Gerard, would have something so... soft in his home. Innocent. It was almost hilariously ironic.
The childish decor only did so much to shed light on the yawning, dark room, though.
Satisfied now?
A little voice in my head.
I would guess so. I thought, turning back to my own ice blue bedroom, closing the door behind me.
-.-.-
The rest of the night was spent drifting in and out of a strange, dreamless void. I awoke like one would on a Monday that was just bound to be horrible- unenthusiastically.
Gerard’s heavy trod was heard in the open corridor, and suddenly it seemed like a very good idea to feign sleep. I did so, laying down like a plank on my side and closing my eyes, slowing my breathing to a restful, deep pace.
I heard the door creak faintly as it opened, and my muscles tensed. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but apparently Gerard was a very observant person. He placed a hand on the side of my face and I willed myself not to flinch. Brushing the hair out of the way, he said softly, “You can open your eyes now.”
I felt childish, squeezing my eyes shut tighter and letting it be known that I was faking. I didn’t care.
I felt warmth hover just above my face- his mouth nearly touching my own. If I had less self control, I would have punched him right then and there.
“I’ll let you sleep for now.” he whispered.
As he pulled away, the heat drained and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I didn’t feel like reading anything, so both the shelves in my room and the library were uninteresting. I wasn’t in the least bit tired, which made sleeping out of the question. But I took Gerard’s soft statement as a challenge and was determined to spend the whole day confined solely to my room, if at all possible.
I sat cross-legged and bored on the bed, surveying the room for something- anything- to do. My eyes were met only with the hypnotic wall designs, lulling me into a semi- dream state. It really was beautiful artwork, more fit to be displayed at an art museum, rather than in a shut-in’s house for only my eyes to see. Again, I wondered blankly who painted it, but my subconscious surmised that it had been done by the ghost woman who had somehow pervaded my daily life.
Suddenly, an electric shock shot out of my fingers and led me to impulsively snap open the drawer on the bedside table. In the drawer sat a pen and a blank legal pad of paper. My still voltaic hands shot over to these things and grabbed them. Before I could fully process what was happening to me, I began to write.
I wrote and wrote for hours, the ideas just flooding. I never paused for even a moment, disregarding all errors that could have been made. I was in my zone, as some would put it, and the world was nothing but a whitish blur round me. I could have gone on for literally forever.
But then I just... stopped.
I slid to a screeching halt, my pen hovering millimeters above the paper. I tried to summon that sudden inspiration again, but nothing would come to me. I was stuck, and that was when I realized how much my hand hurt. It was akin to sprinting an entire marathon without realizing it, and at the end, the searing cramps would finally set in. I grimaced, massaging my carpal tunnel.
Gazing at the pages, I saw many words jammed together, some not even making any sense. Some were crossed out and scribbled through, though not quite effectively omitting them.
He was all over...
His hands were everywhere...
I felt a rush and...
I want to hate him so much...
But can I?
I didn’t think I could. It was obvious that he hadn’t been so demented all his life. Something just happened to make him like this. Something horrible.
Something that might not have been his fault.
I blew out a thin stream of air, trying to clear my head. So, he may have experienced an event that had left him mentally scarred. And the ghost woman had asked me to, as she said, ‘fix’ him. Where did she fit into all of this?
Maybe she had been with him when the accident occurred. I thought logically, with a level head in spite of the nature of my questions.
But then something else hit me.
Maybe she was the accident.
Wait.
That didn’t make sense.
I looked up sharply, almost expecting her to appear before me and answer everything. Sadly, there was only air and a wall in front of me. I supposed it was a requirement for all spirits to be unreliable and annoyingly cryptic, so I was fine with being left to my own devices for the moment. Curling into the fetal position, I thought harder about this whole thing. If she ended up haunting this house and the surrounding area, that must mean she had lived here before, or at least had a special attachment in the living world. Maybe she was his sister- they did resemble each other quite closely. Definitely not his mother- she looked far too young to be anything of the sort. Or perhaps… his wife?
My knees were now touching my forehead. I thought about it for a minute, rolling the thought around in my brain like a ball of dough. Could she have been married to him? I had never seen a ring on his finger, but they could have been the sort of people that didn’t conform to the traditional ways of marriage. The notion was quite possible, now that I considered it seriously, especially when the strange haunting from the former night was brought into the situation.
It still felt strange, fully acknowledging the fact that Gerard wasn’t the villain, even if it was only halfway accepted. He was entirely responsible for what had happened not a few days ago, but I didn’t believe he was to blame for what had bent his character so out of shape. He might not have been the one over me on the bed that day- that could have just been the post traumatic stress talking. Forgiveness was pushed away instantly, but maybe I could let the issue lay low for awhile, taking that time to at least help him get over his strange addiction to raping minors.
Or, I could just get a map and find the nearest homeless shelter. I liked this idea better.
It was almost on queue, really. To the point of ridiculousness. The air grew colder, coaxing out goose bumps on my skin, and then the pigtailed ghost stood in front of me, looking forlorn and almost desperate.
“You can’t leave though!” she exclaimed, pressing her palm to my forehead. “You still haven’t fixed him.”
I looked away. “Did I make a promise?”
“You spoke to me. That, in itself, is a promise. You will fix him.”
Letting her hand slide down to my cheek, I looked up at her and spoke without thinking. “I will.”
“To the end?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
With that, she let go of my face and faded away, now looking far more at peace.
To the end.
-.-.-
I had finally found something to think about. Unwittingly, I had sealed myself to a supernatural promise, and the strangest part was that I was fine with it. Happy, almost. Not quite, but about as close to true joy as I’ve ever been. I had been given something to work on, a purpose. That was what felt good. I now had a legitimate reason to live. Fixing Gerard, fixing myself. I had something to do with my time.
I looked at my hands, soft, thin, delicate. Soon they would be calloused and rough- worker’s hands.
And I felt good.
Now I had no excuse to sit around and complain, couldn’t be a whiny little bitch anymore. I had work to do. And damn it, it would get done.
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Since I feel that I've abandoned this story for a longer time than I should've, I've decide to do a triple update. Yes, a triple update. I have the story mostly finished, anyway, so it's actually not too big of a deal. You can expect another triple update on Friday.