“It was easily the most terrifying moment of my entire life,” I said, in between bites of fries. “And I once sat through a Steven Segal marathon, which was pretty f-ing scary.”
Carla just looked at me, ketchup dripping from her burger. It was the next day and we had just finished school, and were now sitting in the food court in the nearby mall.
“What did your parents say?”
“Nightmare. Which works I guess. They are clearly oblivious to this whole thing and I don’t want them thinking I’m going nuts.”
“Yeah that would suck,” she said, “And Steven Segal is awesome, by the way.”
I smiled, despite myself. Truthfully, it was only Carla's presence and my own small attempts at making light of the situation with bad jokes that were keeping me from a nervous breakdown.
“Whatever," I said with a sigh. "Look, there is something seriously messed up in that basement and it won’t leave me alone. I’ve gotta do something about this.”
“But we looked through that whole basement and didn’t find anything, you’re really sure about this?”
“Wait,” I said, seeing where she was going. “You think I’m making this up?”
“Not making it up per say but…”
“Crazy then?!”
“No just…”
“Good, because I’m sure. I'm very, very sure. There is something down there and it really has a thing for me. Come on Carla, I need your help on this.”
“Okay, I just...okay.” She took another bite of her burger. “Do you wanna check out the basement again?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess so; I mean there’s nothing else really to go on is there?”
“Well, today we can give the basement a really good go over. Like check every nook and cranny, and then do it again,” she said, “And then tomorrow we can skip a couple of classes and maybe check out some of the history of the house. What do you think?”
“You think the house is gonna have history?”
“Sure why not? All houses have history.”
I nodded, “Okay, that’s as good a plan as any I guess. You about ready then?”
She smiled and nodded, wolfing down the rest of her burger in a very unladylike fashion. “All ready!”
I smiled, I really tried not to, but I couldn’t help it.
On the way back to my place, I stopped her.
“Thanks again,” I said, trying to stammer through what I wanted to say as quickly as possible. “I mean, I know this sounds really messed up and everything, and that I probably sound like a complete freak whenever I bring it up…”
She cut me off with a kiss, just a quick peck on the lips followed by her smile, but it shut it me up.
“Forget it,” she said. “It’s kind of fun anyways.”
“It so isn’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really not.”
“Yup.”
We bickered playfully the rest of the way. When we got there I saw that my parent’s car was nowhere to be seen. No surprise really, I usually beat them home. Still, there was something about being in the house without them that was really unnerving. Could be I was still getting used to the new place. Or, you know, the horrible monster in the basement. Whichever.
“Do you mind if I throw my stuff in your room?” Carla asked me as we stepped inside, motioning to her backpack, still slung over her shoulder.
I nodded, “Sure.”
She skipped upstairs and I again marveled at her ability to not take any of this seriously. Of course, if our positions were reversed I would probably have trouble believing it as well. I sighed on that thought and went to turn some lights on when I heard Carla.
“Um…Ian, can you come up here? Like…NOW!”
I turned and ran up the stairs, she sounded scared. Carla never got scared. I rounded the corner into my room and froze my mouth agape.
Carla was looking around in disbelief just as I was. My room had been trashed.
No, no trashed was too light a word. It looked like a hurricane ripped through it. My bed sheets and pillows were slashed, my bookcase overturned, my drawers yanked out and their contents tossed on the floor. There were even holes smashed into the wall. But that wasn’t what we were staring at.
On the wall, just above my bed, was a message; written in, what I prayed, was deep red paint.
“Give it back.”
“Holy shit...this is...I mean...I didn’t do this…” I muttered, and Carla turned to look at me.
“No kidding. What do we do? What does this mean? Ian I…I don't know if I can...”
She came over and gripped my arm. Christ she was shaking. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to comfort her. It hit me then, I suddenly realized that she had been taking this seriously the whole time. She had been putting up a front, but she was clearly disturbed by the whole story, and seeing proof of it had gotten to her. But why? If was really getting to her then why was she trying so hard?
I shook that thought out of my mind for the time being, and just tried to focus on soothing her, tried to focus on being strong for her. “It’s okay,” I said, holding her tight. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure something out.”
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