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Blood Ties	By : maiafay376 Category: +S through Z > Silent Hill Views: 6706 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
�Five! This is five. Ignore the siren!

Even if you leave this room, you can never leave this room!�
--Stephen King, �1408�
--------------------Chapter 6: Downward Spiral--------------------
Saturday Morning
It�s funny how one can promise something to themselves, but, when push came to shove, keeping that promise became a daunting task.
Daniel sat on Old Ben�s couch with his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes red-rimmed and staring at the hole in the wall. They were screaming again. The man and woman in 302.
Wails shook his dresser and easels, rattling the glass of his windows with that unearthly song. He had thought the second time might be better, tolerable--but those screams seem to crawl inside him, piercing his soul like a blade.
It started as the previous night; the little boy chattering away, speaking to some invisible companion. Then, the child fell silent, and Daniel had waited, anticipating the sounds of weeping that would soon begin. As expected, soft cries echoed down the hall a moment later, and then the sound of little footsteps passing his door. He had braced himself, preparing for the unpleasant event. This time would be easier; this time--he had the medallion.
But, it did little else but hum with irritation in his hands, as whatever lie beyond his bedroom wall seemed stronger than its power. Feeling battle weary, he shrank under the old comforter. He had a feeling he knew who they were. After reading Walter�s biography online, it stated that room 302 became an obsession of Walter�s. The man visited the apartment often during his boyhood and into his adult years. There was a connection--but what? Why did Walter fixate on room 302? Were these people his parents? The baby�Walter himself?
Daniel shivered as the cries reached their seething pinnacle and ended. The baby began its hungry bellow afterward and he could imagine that red little face, chubby cheeks, and eyes squeezed shut in panic. The baby shrieked for several minutes, but then the cry abated and room 302 fell silent.
He heaved an exhausted sigh and rested his head on the pillow. He blinked away piteous tears. Why did he hear these things? What did this all have to do with him? Was he just unlucky? The wrong place at the right time?
Or was there something more to this presence in 302, something sinister, malevolent--something that specifically targeted him.
A knock on the door, light, almost hesitant.
Daniel sat stiff and straight, looking down the hall with suspicion. He recalled Walter outside of room 207, knocking with that mischievous grin on his face.
Yeah, that�s all I need�
Taking no chances, he grabbed the bat from the closet, twisting it in his hands and swung once to familiarize himself with the momentum. He pulled the amulet over his head and ventured into the living room, his body poised and ready should his visitor become�unwanted.
A bloodstained letter peeked beneath the door, but Daniel ignored it, pressing his face close to the peephole and looked outside. He saw nothing from his limited view, only the white walls and carpet. Sighing, he bent to retrieve the letter, wondering with dread who wrote him this time.
�Eileen? Why won�t you come out? I need to see you�please; I have to know you�re all right��
--Henry
Eileen? Why the hell did Henry think he was Eileen? Was it because he lived in 303?
As he stood there contemplating, his stomach gave a jerking spasm, causing him to grunt and pitch to the side in discomfort. He set his hand on the door, steadying himself--but the nausea worsened�churning his insides until it became unbearable.
The letter fluttered to the floor as Daniel ran to the bathroom. He staggered to his knees, and with sudden violence, gifted the porcelain king with the remains of his pizza. His head spun as he weakly spat, beads of icy sweat dotting his forehead. He waited a bit, panting along the side of the rim as his stomach contorted unpleasantly. Groaning, he teetered to his feet and sloshed water on his face. He looked into the mirror at his eyes--gray and red, not a very flattering combination. His gaze shifted behind him, into the bedroom--and then, his fingers tightened around the sink, knuckles bleeding white.
Something big, brown, and faceless stared back at him, twitching in the doorway of his room. His hand flew to the medallion around his neck, but the disk remained motionless. Somewhat relieved, Daniel closed his eyes and concentrated. It�s all in my head�that�s all. Nothing�s there. Just my room, dirty floor, artwork on the wall--no demon creature standing and looking at me�It�s not real, it�s not real�
He opened his eyes--and it was by his shoulder, non-face vacillating like some spastic puppet. Its slit-mouth hovered by his ear, lipless and moist--a sanguine tongue slipping between, darting with torpid grace. It considered him a moment, while Daniel stood immobile and terrified, then laved the side of his neck. He bellowed and jerked sideways, stomach troubles forgotten as he scrambled out of the bathroom and back into the living room.
He stood now next to the couch, rubbing his neck where the creature had licked, and fixed his panicked gaze to the hallway. Nothing emerged from the bathroom, only the door swinging back against the wall. He realized he was holding his breath, and finally released it with a trembling sigh. The skin where its saliva touched began to burn, tingling with irritation until Daniel retrieved a dishcloth from the sink and wiped his neck clean. Afterwards, he threw the rag in the trash, running his hand over the spot to feel for any rash or swelling. His hands touched the amulet�s chain, and he frowned, worrying over the lack of reaction. Why respond to the doll, and not that creature? Was it only a dream? Did the amulet know when Daniel was only seeing things?
But�dreams and hallucinations can�t make your flesh burn�nor should you feel them�damn it, what is happening to me?
Feeling anxious, Daniel walked back to the apartment door, fed up and intending to spend the rest of the night in his van. Yet, within a few feet from the exit, he doubled over, stomach cramping once again and his world tilting with vertigo. He dry-heaved on the welcome mat, then vaulted away from the door, stumbling into the living room and collapsed on the carpet. He rested there, panting.
That made twice now. Was it a coincidence every time he approached the door, he wanted to vomit? He glared at the door fearfully, afraid to test his theory and prove it correct.
I�ll wait till morning�
Feeling helpless, he rose and sat on the sofa, keeping one eye on the hall and the other on the apartment door. He left the note on the carpet; a scarlet blotch that he was reluctant to touch--even if it was written by Henry. The TV looked inviting as a way to distract himself, but the former report of his �death� made him think otherwise. Frustrated, Daniel lay stiffly on his side, neck throbbing and sleep roaming the edge of his consciousness like an irascible beast. He was afraid all this would drive him mad soon; every incident pushed his sanity to the brink little by little. He did not know whether he was asleep or awake anymore; all lines of reality and perception now blurred into one, chaotic mess.
His thoughts heavy, Daniel wrapped his hands around the amulet, holding it close to his heart. Was it his imagination, or had the etchings faded since the last time he�d checked? The appearance seemed duller, tarnished, fine cracks now diverging over the surface like dried clay.
�Will break if used too much��
Shit. He had already used it once on that doll�just how many uses did it have?
Better not wear it unless needed�otherwise it might waste the power or something.
Taking it off, (but keeping it close) Daniel curled into a weary ball, resting his head on the couch arm, and drifted into a restive sleep.
Saturday
He jerked awake, his mouth tasting like sour cotton, and neck stiff. His arm had fallen asleep during the night, the limb useless until Daniel stretched and swung it back and forth a few times. Back complaining, he shifted his legs around, body perched now at the edge of the sofa, and paused there, struggling to wake up. He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned in disbelief. Almost two in the afternoon--he practically slept the day away!
Wetting his mouth and grimacing, he stood and went into the kitchen, running the taps cold to splash his face. He stood over the sink in a daze, letting the water drip from his chin into the drain, watching with fascination as each silvery drop trailed into darkness. He felt like that drop; hapless and vulnerable against forces that intended harm. Would he spiral into nothing? Fall into some bottomless pit of despair and madness? What would become of him if his strength failed?
The phone rang, its shrill knell jarring him rudely from his reverie.
He answered it after the fifth ring, his voice hoarse and dry. �Hello?�
Only static air replied, tinkling noises in the background--like chains dangling.
�Hello?� He frowned, lack of sleep making his mind foggy. �I said hello?�
Laugher, sweet, and musical--with insanity lacing the tone like prickly vines. It sounded like a child, a depraved child that had just killed the neighbor�s cat--and enjoyed it.
�Brother? When are you coming home? I want to see you�terribly��
�What? Um�sorry Miss, but I think you have the wrong number,� he said, swallowing away the cotton taste in his mouth.
The girl on the other end sighed, and it made Daniel think of rotting leaves falling to the ground, the rustle and shiver of winds scattering them across barren earth.
�Why did daddy leave me? Why did he go away? We should have been together Daniel�as we were always meant to be�no sadness, no hate�just us�together.�
His heart skipped a beat as he heard his name spoken. This was not the wrong number, but who was she, and why was she calling him �brother�?�
�I-I don�t know you. I�m sorry, but I don�t have any siblings�� he carried the phone to the window, looking out at the gray sky and the scurry of people below. They seemed so normal, going about their business, living mundane lives with no dolls, no ghosts, and no brown creatures in mirrors. He envied them.
She laughed, the sound like glass breaking. Her words were intimate, adoring. �You deny me Daniel? Daddy did�long, long ago. I despise him for that you see�despise him so very much. Do you know what it�s like to be burned brother? To have the skin peeling from your body, stripping away like old, dirty paint�that smell of flesh, cooking, blistering, oozing�it never leaves you�it lingers�I smell it still; as I still feel the pain, the agony of nerves exposed, muscles twitching, my skin melting away...� a sob then, a small pathetic sound that made Daniel�s stomach tremble with unease and sympathy. She was burned that bad? He gripped the phone tighter, trying to find something to say. He doubted �I�m sorry,� would make a difference. Empty words, full of nothing, just like her voice became now. �Daddy left me to die�but he loved �you�. He wanted �you�--� Her
voice broke, an anguished sob, hopeless and abandoned. �Why? Why did he leave?�
�I�I don�t know; I have no idea who you are�who are you?�
�WHY DID HE LEAVE?� she shrieked, her voice unbearable--full of malice and hate and dark things that should never be seen. He jerked the phone away, slamming it down on the counter.
He stood, watching the phone distrustfully as if it would ring again just like in a typical horror movie; that clich� second call that either was the protagonist�s mother, or the evil thing calling back. As he glared, something warm trickled down his neck, and Daniel made a noise of alarm as his hand brushed skin and came away with red. He immediately grabbed a clean dishtowel from under the sink, trying not to panic as he pressed the rag to his ear. That bitch made his ear bleed!
Cradling his head and grimacing, Daniel wondered who the girl was, her name, and how the hell did she make his ear start bleeding? She kept calling him �brother.� Why? Did his father have another child? Daniel felt sick as he thought about that; with his father�s past a mystery, she could very well be telling the truth. But, without a name, he was uncertain how to take this sudden revelation. He thought hard on every conversation he had with his father, trying to find some mention of another child, or some secret that slipped notice before. Shaking his head, he was certain that his father never spoke of the early years--at least--not to him. He had the intense urge to look at Dahlia�s picture again, study it--try and make sense out of his father�s dedication to this mystery woman. Did he have a child with her? If so, then why did he leave? Before his mother died, his father never shied away from his duties, whether it be work or family--he remained loyal and diligent, often putting his family�s needs before his own. It was hard to believe he would leave a woman pregnant with his child--Old Ben would never do such a thing. Not willingly.
Maybe Dahlia never told him�
Daniel lifted the cloth away, and saw that his ear had stopped bleeding. Relieved, he rinsed the rag, and set it on the ledge. His eyes peered down the hallway, noticing nothing out of the ordinary and decided to brave the other rooms. He swiped the amulet from the couch, and tossed it over his head--just in case.
Like a soldier slinking past enemy lines, Daniel entered the bathroom, flinching a little as he gazed at his reflection. The brown creature made no appearance, (thankfully) and he was able to concentrate on cleaning his ear. Dried blood had caked around the tender lobe, leaving a flaky trail down his neck. He washed it, inspected the inside, and then wiped it dry.
He took a brisk shower after that; not lingering long as he hurried and shaved. Thoughts of the burned girl were foremost in his thoughts, and he kept repeating the conversation over again, looping phrases she had spoken like a broken record. �You deny me Daniel?�Why did daddy leave?�Brother, when are you coming home�?�
I don�t have a sister�his mind protested. I don�t�
But what if he did? And what if she was somehow involved in these bizarre events?
Avoiding the mirror, he kept his gaze to the side, his hands shaking as he opened the door and went into the bedroom.
After entering, his eyes scanned the surroundings, positive that the doll or brown creature would manifest. All seemed typical however, and Daniel went to the dresser to change his clothes. He put on a long sleeved shirt that matched his eyes, and old blue jeans. Sliding his hand through his mop of hair, he combed the tangles out of the raven mess and toweled it dry.
With thoughts still lingering on his �sister�, he went to the window, desiring some fresh air. Releasing the blinds, he slid his fingers under the sill, tugging the window up with a swift jerk. He cursed the next instant--his fingers throbbing in agony, and the glass refusing to budge. He fought for the next minute, gritting his teeth as he tugged, pulled and struggled to open it. It remained stubborn, locked tight, as if someone had cemented it shut.
Great, another thing Frank has to fix�
But, didn�t I just use this window yesterday?
Trying not to think about it, and keeping his rising panic under control, Daniel moved to the next window--only to discover the same result. Dread then overcame him and made his breathing erratic as he tried every window in the apartment. After a half hour of straining, pulling, banging and swearing, he sat on the floor, arms quivering and pulse hammering in his ears. He had even tried smashing the glass at one point, but nothing worked. Not one would open. Not even a crack.
He fought the urge to cry and mustered his fortitude, trying to calm down. He sat for a while, wondering what to do. Should he get Frank? No, wait, Frank�s out of town--Bob from 104 was in charge. Could Bob fix haunted windows? Open a door that made you vomit?
Daniel looked over at the exit, that golden knob taunting him, daring him to try again. His eyes then fell to the red letter on the carpet. Why had he left it there? Rising, he walked over and picked it up, faint stirrings of nausea already rolling through his stomach. He backed away from the door, fighting to keep his breathing under control. Setting the letter on the counter, he took several deep breaths, bracing himself as he walked forward.
This is so stupid�I can�t believe I�m doing this�
However, the closer he came, the sicker he felt; cramps cinched his stomach like an wrung balloon and icy sweat dripped from his temple. Gagging , he fell on his knees as the sensations overwhelmed him. He retreated, allowed his stomach to settle--then stubbornly approached the door again. The second time was worse--as if the �door� or �force� knew of his intentions, and assailed twice as hard.
He tried to escape over a dozen times, and each one ended in failure. Finally, Daniel slunk back into the living room, his throat raw from retching and accepting defeat. He sat with his back to the couch, glaring at the door in misery. All exits were blocked; whether physically or psychologically, he was trapped--under siege. Was it all just in his head? Maybe, but he doubted it. How could he leave now? It probably would be a week before anyone checked on him; how much food did he have?
Feeling anxious, he rose and went into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards and fridge, taking stock of all the food he had left: Three pizza�s, half a gallon of milk, some eggs, lunch meat, (smoked ham) full loaf of bread, and one box of cereal. He tapped the refrigerator door, and sighed. Well, he could last the week easily on that; no worries there�for now. He shut the door and turned, swiping the phone from the counter, and went into the bedroom.
After finding the number Melanie had given him, Daniel dialed and waited, praying that at least his phone still worked. He kept his gaze trained on the windows as the phone rang, wishing there was some magic word to make them open again. He waited, fingers tapping on the amulet around his neck impatiently. A minute click, then a rustling sound--perhaps someone putting the phone to their ear?
�Melanie? Hello Melanie? Is that you?� Daniel clutched the receiver to his ear like a precious thing. He paused and waited again,--hearing words, but was unable to understand them. He heard only murmurs and broken sentences, as if she spoke from a great distance. �Melanie? I can�t hear you. There must be a bad connection. I�m in trouble�I-I can�t leave my apartment! None of the windows, or main door will open. I get sick if I come too close to the door�please, I need help--�
Daniel dropped the phone as it screeched in his ear, the noise like a pair of yowling cats. Wincing from the sound, he hung up the receiver and stepped away, breathing heavy. He stared at the phone as he did earlier, clinging to the faint hope that Melanie would call back. She did not.
Furious that he was unable to make a simple phone call, he yanked open the his closet door, tossing papers and art supplies around until he came upon Walter�s painting. He threw it on the couch, ripping the covering off in one motion. His anger turned into disbelief as his iron angels surrounded�nothing. An empty hole was all that remained of Walter, every chain that had bound him was withered and broken. How could that be?
It was only a painting�a painting!
But, he knew it was much more than that. He had infused that canvas with his fear--his paints and brushes acting as an extension of his will. He had wanted Walter chained, harmless--and for a few days it had worked--but now�somehow, he had broken free.
This is insane�how could I really imprison anyone inside a painting�it was all just a metaphor!
The rational voice inside protested, but Daniel already set the canvas aside, reaching into the closet for another.
I�ll just paint you again Walter�maybe use more chains this time�but you can�t keep me here--I will leave this room!
He set his easel upright next to the window, pausing to give the ledge a savage jerk--just in case it decided to release. But, it remained sealed tight, his finger tips complaining over his stupidity. What did I really expect anyway?
Frowning, he set his paints and brushes upon the tray table, his palette balancing along the edge. He glowered at the canvas for a while, trying to gain that feverish intensity he had when painting Walter for the first time.
However, his mind was blank, empty--too distracted by his stomach growling and thoughts running rampant. Concentrating, he shrugged away all menial urges and sought his darker muse, the one he felt when he had first emptied his terror and fury onto the canvas. He reached down into his consciousness--into the core of his being, but she eluded him. Discouraged, he surrendered, sagging on the chair and held his head in his hands, despairing�
Damn it�I have to find a way out of here�
Sunday Morning
He received no rest that evening, since room 302 seemed determined to be as loud and obnoxious as possible. Daniel�s teeth chattered as he watched the wall, hearing death and anguish for the third time.
It was like clockwork now: child babbles, child cries, child runs down the hall--then chanting--chanting ends, music begins, and then man enters with his wife; they chat in a loving manner, man mutters something unintelligible, scratches at wall--screams in agony--then the wailing comes, horrible, hungry, wife sees wailing thing, shrieks as husband is ripped apart. (Yes, Daniel supposed he was embellishing a little there, since he had no idea what was truly happening.). Man dies, wife runs--is caught by wailing monster, gives gurgling cry, then dies herself. A pause, and baby is next, crying and crying until the sound fades--and room 302 is finally appeased.
He had meant to sleep in the living room, knowing that 302 would provide the unwanted entertainment--but for some reason, he was drawn back into the bedroom. It was as if he was fascinated by the event; that morbid curiosity one has when viewing an auto accident or plane crash.
Shuddering, he rose, limbs feeling sluggish. Clad only in sweatpants, Daniel approached the hole in the wall, the one Frank had patched last week. The plaster was crumbling away, cracking and flaking until he was certain the hole was bigger than before. Black scorch marks stained the edge of the opening, as if someone lit a match and circled around. He resisted the urge to bend down and peer through, as the images of sharp objects being thrust into his eye came to mind. Moving trance-like, he tilted his head at the wall, wondering if Henry would cry again. He just wanted to hear someone talk�anyone; it felt like years had past, and yet, he knew it was only one day. Blinking himself out of the odd stupor, he wandered back to Old Ben�s couch. He reclined, fiddling with the amulet in his hands, turning it over and over as he stared into space.
He liked the way it felt, smooth and cool, the etchings like rough pebbles under his touch. He slid his fingers around the edge of the main disk, his eyes blank and mind wandering. That bizarre inertia came over him again, his body feeling heavy and warm. It began spreading throughout, prodding, tingling, pooling within his nether regions until a soft groan escaped his lips. He laid back, eyes closing, feeling intoxicated and aroused. The amulet began humming between his fingers, the cold power tugging his mind from the balmy fog descending.
What? What am I doing? He studied the medallion, his mind slipping back and forth into haze and reality like a drowsy pendulum. There was a presence inside his room, he could feel it. It was hanging over the couch, dripping unseen upon him like heavy rain. He resisted for a short moment, his mind struggling under the influence much like a child beating against strong hands that held him. The amulet vibrated in anger, and Daniel frowned.
Why don�t you take it off? What use is it anyway?
That suddenly seemed like a grand idea, and he pulled it off, tossing it onto the floor. It skid into the corner and vanished into shadow--humming forlornly.
With the amulet gone, the weight upon him increased; Daniel moaned in discomfort, easing his body supine to avoid the crushing pressure. As if pleased with his compliance, the force lessened, settling over him like a nuzzling blanket and brushed against him tenderly. He sighed with pleasure and let his hands wander, basking in the lethargic caress of this invisible entity. He became aware of eyes upon him, but that did little to deter his hands from seeking below his waistband, cradling the hardened flesh there, and began stroking with measured, languid, motions. His body arched off the couch, the pressure answering with welcomed heat. It felt as if a dozen hands caressed him, sliding, grazing, and planting chaste kisses on every inch of skin. He panted as spirals of pleasure tingled throughout his body, his movements escalating and hips now giving concise, frantic thrusts.
�Let me see��
Daniel hesitated, his mind aware enough to realize someone had spoken, but was too inundated with sensation to protest further. He slid his sweatpants down, kicking them into the same corner as the amulet. Fully nude, he settled back onto the couch, his form gyrating with gentle and rolling motions, allowing the presence to flow over him in opposite tandem. This continued for several minutes, his heart skipping, racing as ecstasy crept within reach.
His climax was savage; with breath hitching, eyes rolling back and body bucking off the couch. The presence undulated over him, spiraling his pleasure past all endurance, his body going rigid as each spasm wrung him dry. When it ended--and the last bit of pleasure shivered away, he just laid there, unable to move--with chest heaving and mind scattered. The presence gave one last heated caress, slipping over his body like callused fingertips and then faded--leaving Daniel bewildered and wondering what he just allowed to happen.
He bolted upright, his stomach sticky with semen and body still tingling. Giving a noise of disgust, he wiped at himself and rose to his feet. He stumbled to the wall and flipped on the light, his gaze finding the discarded pair of sweats in the corner. With cheeks burning, he picked the sweatpants and amulet off the floor, putting them both on as his mind tried to grasp how he surrendered control so easily. Why did he throw the amulet down? What exactly was touching him just a moment ago? His gaze swept over his room, as the feeling of someone watching him was very strong. He felt unseen eyes studying him, appraising his body. He glared at the hole in the wall, feeling violated and dirty.
Trembling with indignation, Daniel approached the hole, determined to know the identity of his voyeur. Bending down, he peered through the charred edges, his fear of what lie beyond mattering little at the moment; all he wanted now was to see this malevolent presence--put a face to the entity.
He blinked as candles swam in his vision; the wax melting in ivory puddles and arranged in a circle around a seated male. Daniel squinted, the hole tunneling his vision straight forward. The male tilted his face toward the light, pale green eyes heavy with lust and mouth quirking with a gratified sneer.
Walter.
�Lovely show Daniel�can we do it again?�
Daniel gave a revolted yelp and flinched away, bile rising in his throat. He scrambled to his feet and hurried over to the flower dresser, shoving it toward the wall with clumsy motions--and in his haste, tore the carpet along the floor. He could hear Walter laughing from 302; that easy, sultry chuckle which caused his teeth to grind.
Shut the fuck up�just shut the fuck up!
He slammed the dresser against the hole, muffling the sound of Walter�s guffawing, but not fading it completely. After a moment the laughter ceased, but scuffling sounds began, like furniture shifting from the other side. Walter�s voice purred from behind the dresser, mocking and serene.
�You will find no peace in this room�I�ll always be watching.�
His words were foreboding, dark intent palpable enough for Daniel--enough to make him yank the comforter off Old Ben�s couch, grab a few pillows and head out into the living room.
The room was cold for some reason, as if a draft had snuck inside through a crack or hole. For one elated moment, Daniel thought the window was open, but his hope sank when he discovered all remained sealed as before. Muttering to himself, he plopped on the couch, staring moodily at the TV screen, but unwilling to turn it on.
He stared at the clock on the wall: five am, and not a wink of sleep. The only thing he managed to do all night was listen to people die and be felt up by Walter�s touchie feelie powers.
Great start to his day; hopefully this was the worse it could get�
Sunday Evening
Two notes under the door that afternoon. The first was from Henry, who expressed more concern for �Eileen�s� well being. Daniel had discovered he could approach the door and retrieve the letter, but when he made a grab for the knob, his stomach had rebelled, making him scramble for the safety of the living room.
Panting and holding his stomach, he had read the note with eagerness, his desire for human contact becoming desperate since his isolation.
You don�t know what you have until it�s gone�
He had then sat and brooded most the of the day, amulet heavy around his neck and trying to ignore the stagnant air inside his apartment. The occasional cold spot would creep upon him suddenly, chilling his body until he burrowed under the comforter, his breath pluming in the air. The TV remained off, as well as the radio--especially when the 70�s tune from 302 began crooning from the stereo speakers. He had avoided the mirror when inside the bathroom, but groomed in the habitual fashion, making sure that if he died inside this cage, he would at least leave a decent corpse.
The next few hours were spent pacing and muttering to himself, stopping twice to call Melanie again, but only heard the sound of static each time. He had ate some pizza and washed it down with milk, then ventured into the bedroom to stare at the blank canvas by his window. A rather uneventful way to pass his time, but it calmed him somehow.
When away from the canvas, he had fought the welling urge to tear at the walls and throw his furniture around like a crazy man. The silence was awful, profound, akin to being swallowed whole by some hungry beast. He wanted to hear the sounds of traffic outside, the laughter of friends as they walked by; he wanted to see Frank again, have lunch and to be flirted with by Peggy; he wanted to sleep in Melanie�s bed, surrounded by pink and lace. He wanted anything and anywhere but here.
He had tried for the door again with little success. This time he could only make it a few feet before collapsing on the floor. He had crawled away after a half a dozen tries, tears streaming and trying not to scream. The second note came then; he had seen it slipped underneath, the white paper staining red before his eyes. He had approached it gingerly, wondering if he could reach the note like the last time without doubling over in pain. His stomach had grumbled a little, but he obtained the note and backed away before his nausea churned out of control. Unfolding the note, Daniel had expected Henry�s looping scrawl, but instead, the neat, orderly writing of a psychopath greeted his eyes:
�Don�t worry Daniel, you�ll meet Mother soon�I promise.�
--Walter
The note had a ominous tone, predicting something final and inescapable. Swearing, he had ripped the paper into tiny pieces, scattering them into the waste basket. He had shuddered on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, watching the light fade outside, and the clock ticking toward evening. With his eyes drooping, he had gathered the comforter around him, falling into a restless sleep--only to be woke a few hours later with the intense desire to return to his bedroom. It was a restive feeling, an inherent compulsion that pulled and tugged inside until he was shaking like a heroin addict.
He had resisted the urge, knowing that whatever was in that room only demanded his audience, someone to witness the morbid event like some incessant person mandating �watch me, watch me!� Daniel wanted no part it anymore; he did not want to hear the screams, or listen to people being butchered over and over again.
But, here he was, padding down the hall in his sweats, old comforter trailing behind like a dingy wedding train. He slunk upon Old Ben�s couch, pressing himself against it as if he could disappear inside. The sounds began and Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, cradling his head to his chest.
Why are you doing this?�What do you want from me?
Monday
No sleep again that night.
Morning shone through the blinds with its golden glory, and after leaving the amulet on the couch, Daniel staggered into the bathroom and leaned over the sink in despair. He wanted to cry. He wanted to fall to the floor and weep himself senseless. But, he stifled the emotion. Crying would not gain him freedom; crying was not going to open that door or those windows; it was a useless sentiment that only made him feel weak.
Groaning, he rose from his self-pity and showered, the mundane act bringing him small comfort. Stepping from the tub, he let the water drip from his nude body and stared in the mirror at himself.
Steam blurred his form--but not the thing that suddenly appeared behind him, the creature cocking its head back and forth while the face shimmered in flux. Daniel froze, his vulnerable state made more apparent by the chill that descended over his body. The cooler air faded the steam, giving him a clearer view of the thing, and his own horrified expression.
NO! It was not real! It�s not fucking real! He reacted without thinking, smashing his fist into the glass, shattering the mirror with a cry of rage.
�Leave me the fuck ALONE!�
He gasped as the pieces fell away, leaving a ragged jigsaw within the frame and his hand now bleeding. Yet, he could still see it-- the creature�s shape reflected inside the pieces, a kaleidoscope of yellow and brown. He felt its presence now against his back, the rush of air and wrongness that made his flesh shrink away. The air inside the bathroom became stifling, every breath more difficult than the last. He held his hand out still; his body paralyzed with terror and the blood dripping from several cuts. It touched him then--one mottled hand cradling the side of his neck as the other trailed over his forearm to grasp his bloody wrist. The touch was freezing. Daniel could not move his head--only saw from the corner of his vision as the creature eased its face toward the wounds, the entire skull fluttering like the wings of a dying hummingbird, out of sync and distorted. Daniel made a noise then, one of those desperate, helpless noises that one makes when powerless and terrified, yet unable to do anything about it. The creature regarded him afterwards, as if amused by the tiny sound, but then resumed its inspection, that slit mouth hovering now over the deepest cut.
Long and serpentine, its tongue emerged, scaly along the sides and moist with saliva. He eyes bulged as the creature lapped at the blood with slow, deliberate stokes--as if savoring the taste. His body hummed then, a strange, peculiar feeling that nudged both arousal and disgust. It kept licking, methodical motions that were maddening to endure. Finally, he could bear no more, and jerked his wrist away, flying backwards to throw the creature off. The thing slid to the side, elegant somehow despite its maladroit appearance. It watched, impassive and bored as Daniel struggled with the doorknob. The blood on his hands made escaping difficult. He could feel it reaching for him again, those lanky arms grasping, yearning. He screamed in terror, falling to the floor and curling into the corner to shield himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for the touch, waited for those cold wizened fingers to snatch him and drag him into whatever hell it came from.
The touch never came.
His eyes slid open a crack, and then opened fully as he gazed around the bathroom in bewilderment. It was gone. Only the broken mirror stood as testament to the creature�s former presence. He looked at his hand, still bloody and oozing, and then looked back at the room with renewed fury.
To hell with this shit�
He rose and snatched a towel from under the sink, then grabbed his shampoo bottles, shaving equipment and soap--balancing the array of items in one hand as he flung open the door with the other. Throwing everything on the sofa, he went back only once to purloin a few more towels and then slam the bathroom door shut.
He would bathe elsewhere from now on.
Venturing into the bedroom for some clothing, he noticed that the flower dresser was back in the corner where it was before, and the hole lay bare. Daniel looked at the dresser, then back at the hole, expression non plus and annoyed. I know I moved it�I did, last night� he marched over to the dresser, pulling it back across the carpet and shoved it where it belonged. The last thing he wanted was Walter peeping at him when he changed clothes.
He hurried and threw something on, the distinct feeling of being watched creeping over him, even with the hole covered. He chose his outfit without care, as his stockpile of clean clothes was dwindling. A white tank top and blue jeans today, with mismatched socks and no underwear. He hated going commando, but refused to turn his boxer briefs inside out.
Glancing at the empty canvas before leaving, he wondered when his muse would return. He wanted to be rid of Walter; whom he had a suspicion was responsible for these manifestations--he was positive they would stop once Sullivan was exorcised.
With a forlorn glance at the windows, he closed the door behind him.
He put the amulet on and tried to call Melanie again, but the phone was only dead air--with occasional static erupting beyond the receiver. Sighing, he prepared for another day of staring at walls, blank TV and silent radio. What fun, what fun.
Setting the phone down on the counter, he began making his cereal, but then realized the milk was expired. The pungent odor wavered into his nose, and Daniel made a face in disgust as he removed the carton from the refrigerator. Irritated, he dumped the remaining liquid down the sink, but then dropped the container as the doorbell chimed.
He stared at the door, heart hammering. Who could it be? Melanie and Frank were still out of town; was it one of his neighbors? The thought of Gladys with a homemade pie came to mind, (even though he was pretty certain that he pissed her off--and therefore, no �welcome to the building� pie for him.) and then Carl, with his sour expression and scatterbrained mother toting behind like an unwanted puppy; or perhaps even Lucia--dressed provocatively and smiling, inviting him back to her apartment for some �quality� conversation.
Uncertain, but encouraged, Daniel came around the corner, hesitating a few feet from the exit. The bell rang again, this time coupled with a gentle, but insistent knock. He approached slowly, waiting for his stomach to heave, to cramp--but it seemed fine, no grumbling or growling felt. His excitement doubled within seconds, and unable to contain himself, he boldly strode forward. Am I free? Can I leave now? Tasting freedom, he eagerly reached for the door, throwing the locks back, opening it wide--
--and greeted Walter�s smiling face.
Daniel uttered a strangled yelp, slamming the door shut the next instant. He threw his body against it, locking the deadbolt and chain. Breathing heavy, he backed away, wincing as he heard that placating chuckle from the other side. Walter spoke then, his words gently rebuking.
�Daniel�that wasn�t very nice. I thought you were happy to see me.�
�Fuck you! Leave me alone!�
He continued to retreat, stopping at the end of the kitchen counter and stared at the door as if expecting Sullivan to walk through the wood--or at least make it ooze pus and bleed. Walter gave a soft sigh, his tone patient.
�I can�t do that Daniel, not when I�ve just found you. You have no idea how difficult it was to push my way into your sanctuary�but my world has finally touched yours, and now it�s growing�slowly, but it�s growing. Soon, I�ll be inside, and there is nothing you can do to stop me.� Walter's words seeped through the door like thick honey.
Daniel�s hand gripped the countertop, knuckles aching. He was torn between opening the door and pummeling Walter (probably getting himself killed in the process), or retreating into the bedroom and leave the man just talking to himself. But, despite his fear, he wanted to hear another�s voice--anyone--even if it was an undead lunatic. Frowning, he looked at the floor, considering what to say. What should you ask someone who can make the walls crack open and bend reality?
�What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?� Daniel glared at the door, and gripped the countertop to keep his hands from shaking.
A sliding sound, then a light thump, as if Walter just sat against it. �I just want you to meet Mother,� he said, his voice childlike, almost sulky.
�What?�
�I said, I just want you to--�
�Yes, I heard you the first time Sullivan,� Daniel said, the exasperation clear in his voice. �I just don�t understand what the hell you�re talking about. Believe me, I did my research, and there were several articles I read stating that you never knew your parents.�
�I have Mother. She�s all I need; she�s all I ever needed.� Walter�s voice was serene, dreamy, reminding Daniel of that little boy he saw in the hallway. �Like a golden dream locked away, I had to find her, seek her out, and obtain the keys to set her free. I did eventually, through suffering and pain...through heartache and misery--I opened the doors to her world--her paradise�and what wonders I beheld��
Daniel rolled his eyes. It sounded just like a bunch of religious mysticism to him. �Yeah, sounds great,� he said. �That doesn�t answer my question.�
�It doesn�t?�
�No. It doesn�t! Stop playing games with me! I don�t know what the fuck you really are, but you�re not supposed to be here. You�re dead! You�ve been dead for twelve years! How do you even exist? Why can I see you? Did you send that brown thing to spy on me? That creature from the mirror?� The questions tumbled one after the other, but he could not stop them from shooting out of his mouth. Shaking with emotion, he steadied himself against the counter and waited impatiently for Walter to respond.
�Brown thing?� Walter seemed uncertain for a moment, and then gave an enlightened sigh. �Ah�so he has come for you. Mother must sense you�re near--knows that you�re close�she grows impatient it seems�� he murmured this sadly, with worry. �She must think me unworthy of this task. I already failed her once�but I told her--I vowed I would never fail again. I would have freed her if I had succeeded. She would have remade this hovel. Remade it into something beautiful. This�this world you wallow within is filthy�devoid of light, of hope--I despise it! All this flesh without purpose, will without desire--useless sacks of meat walking, rutting and devouring themselves with the frivolities of shallow lives!�
�I was so close!� Walter said. �So close to throwing those gates wide and allowing her brilliance to enter--to cleanse this abyss of impurity. It�s all his doing! His fault! He fought me�he fought heaven itself and left it in ruins! He spoiled Mother�s world for his own selfish gain--� Walter laughed then, an ugly sound. �But, it was he who truly gained nothing in the end, only guilt and pain--he suffered as I did, and Mother repaid the fool by pulling him inside--inside where I could punish him over and over again. All for her�only her�� Walter�s rant trailed away and Daniel could hear him breathing against the door, fast and heavy.
He swallowed, his mind racing. Walter was certainly insane, but that little tirade certainly put his goals into perspective. And what about this mysterious �he� that Walter kept raving about? Daniel had an idea of who it was, but wondered if he should broach the subject, given Walter�s touchy attitude.
�Uh�that man you keep mentioning, are you talking about Henry?�
�Yesssss,� Walter hissed. �My Receiver of Wisdom wasn�t very cooperative. I should have chosen someone else, but he fit so perfectly. Every soul was carefully picked and selected for Mother�especially him, he was the final sacrament.�
�You mean selected to �kill�. You murdered all those people--you even killed those poor little kids!� Daniel was getting angry again and his voice rose. He stepped toward the door until he was flush against it. He looked at the knob with longing. The temptation to turn it and run screaming down the hall was unbearable.
�Those that are strong will inherit heaven. Those that are willing to sacrifice will be honored above all.� replied Walter in singsong, as if he memorized the words from somewhere. Daniel growled, irritated with all this fanaticism, and hearing about Walter�s mommy.
�Stop with the cryptic bullshit and the crazy religious talk! I don�t know who this so called Mother of yours is--but after hearing about her little paradise and the fact she demands blood sacrifices--I want no part of her!�
�But you must. You have no other choice.� Walter told him, his tone reasonable.
�No.�
�Stubborn little thing aren�t you? Hmm, must be an inherited trait��
�Inherited? What are you implying?�
�Oh, nothing.�
�Are you talking about that girl on the phone?" Daniel said, remembering. "Did you send her to call me? Tell her to lie and say she was my sister? Nice try, but I don�t have siblings you asshole, I was an only child. Your little trick isn�t going to work!�
�She is not mine to control, never was; only Mother can tame that wench! It seems blood calls to blood Daniel�as I said; your presence is felt by all of us. If the hell child sought you out�it was on her terms�not mine.�
Hell child? Her terms? What was he blabbing about? Daniel shook his head, his anger stirring anew. �Damn you, I�m not playing around! My blood isn�t calling to anyone! This is just some twisted little game of yours Walter! What�s the matter? Got tired of no one seeing you, so you decide to torment some poor random bastard? I�m not a fucking dog or pet you can just lock away! You can�t keep me in here forever! Frank and Melanie will check on me! I'll get out!�
�No, you won�t, because I won't let you,� Walter sounded pleased. �It matters not if my savior or that female returns. You will not leave this room until you�re ready to meet Mother.�
�I�m not meeting your mother!� Then Daniel frowned, thinking on what Walter just said. �Savior? Are you referring to Frank?�
�Yes�he found me on that black day I was born. I loathe him.�
�What?�Why? When did he find you? Why--�
�I�d rather not discuss trivialities at this moment. What matters is �you� Daniel--you and Mother reuniting.�
�I said--I�m not meeting your Mother!� he growled through clenched teeth. This conversation was going nowhere. Walter was too damn bullheaded to get the hint; he might as well be reasoning with a brick wall.
�You will and shall. Just like me, it was decided the moment you were born. We�re all special Daniel; Mother�s chosen. Don�t be afraid of it; don�t fight a battle already lost. You have no choice.�
"I�m nothing like YOU! I�m not meeting your Mother--I�m getting out of here!"
�But Mother loves you, she yearns for--�
�Fuck your Mother!� Daniel shouted, his temper bursting past all limits of patience. He just wanted Walter to shut up about his stinking mother and let him out.
Walter went quiet then�very quiet. Daniel wet his lips and cocked his head to the side, trying to listen. He wondered if he pissed Walter off. Did he leave? Or was he just staring at the door with those pale, green eyes of his?
A sudden and violent �thwack� sounded near his ear, causing Daniel to leap back and retreat to the counter. Walter spoke again, every word with icy purpose.
�Unless you�re ready to meet Mother, you will never leave this room. You�re strong Daniel--but I can break you. If not I, then Valtiel will overwhelm your haven eventually,� he warned, his tone grave. �Choose wisely whose platter you�ll be served upon--your state of mind will depend on it. Until then, little Daniel, enjoy the wonders offered, the secret glint inside Mother�s paradise. Everyday will be something new, I promise. Perhaps we will play again as we did the other night��
Daniel fidgeted as Walter�s voice crawled over him, the tone too intimate for his liking. Memories sprung unbidden, of his compliance to the �entity� that invaded his room. His cheeks flamed in humiliation, and he looked away from the door. Walter continued on, his tone scolding. �And don�t think for a moment that trinket around your neck will save you. Yes, Daniel, I sense it--I can smell the taint from where I stand. I know he gave it to you�slipped it through when I wasn�t looking. What a naughty pet of mine. I'll deal with his disobedience the next time I see him��
�Walter don�t hurt him! He just gave it to me because he thinks I�m Eileen! He doesn�t know I�m the one living in 303!�
Bitter laughter then, the sound muffled by a hand or sleeve. Walter chuckled for a minute, genuinely amused.
�Ah�my poor, deluded Receiver, still trying to rescue the Mother Reborn�how endearing. Perhaps I should encourage this fantasy�give him some tiny hope of seeing Eileen again. Won�t that be delightful?�
�You asshole, leave him alone!�
The laughter faded down the hall; Walter now retreating into whatever hole he crawled out of. Daniel shook in fury, hating himself for the sudden impulse to call Walter back, craving that last bit of human contact--even though Sullivan wasn't human anymore.
That�s just sick�you should rather hear �nothing,� than that bastards voice again!
Daniel wandered back to the couch, fingering the amulet in his hands and reflecting upon the conversation. There were so many things that Walter said, many things that could be misconstrued, or misread. Was there truly a �Mother,� or was she some figment of Walter�s depraved mind? What was all that talk about being special and paradise? More delusions? And what of the brown creature? Walter called it Valtiel, and Mother supposedly sent it to collect him�but, for what purpose? What did this �Mother� want with him?
These questions plagued him throughout most of the afternoon as he sat sulking on the sofa, every little noise making him jump and stare like a frightened animal. He remembered what Walter had warned, promising �something new� every day, and to enjoy the �wonders� offered. What would happen next? What else could that bastard do to him that he had not done already? Daniel had a nasty feeling that he would find out soon enough�
Tuesday
Almost two straight days without sleep now. The longest he had ever gone was three--but that was when his mother had died, and he�d rather not dwell on that. Too many painful memories there--of guilt�so much guilt. Like the horizon, there was no end to it.
Right on schedule, the couple was murdered. Daniel had attended as usual. It never got easier to bear; every time felt like the first. But, this was the first time he had decided to beat his fists against the wall when the man approached, screaming for the poor fool to run away. It was futile sentiment of course, wasted energy. They could not hear him; they would never hear him--no matter how loud he yelled, or how much he pounded.
When it was over, he dozed for a few hours and woke when he heard a child laughing from the living room.
Instead of rising to his feet and storming into the room as he would have done a few days ago, Daniel, instead, paused at the edge of the couch, his nails digging into the side and listening to the tinkle of laughter with pensive anxiety. He knew before even entering the living room, what that sound belonged to. The doll was back.
After some consideration, he stood and left the bedroom. He shouldered the wall as he walked, trying to catch a glimpse of the demon before entering the living room. As he leaned around the corner--gasps of laughter, short and breathless erupted to his right. His eyes fell on the toy. The doll had seated herself on the sofa, little arms folded upon its lap, legs pressed together, and dirty blue dress bunching around its knees. The light of the window shone on the dainty black shoes, the glare suddenly fascinating him. He swallowed, hesitating.
The amulet clutched in his hand hummed, the power zapping up his arm like swathes of cold electricity. He could swear that the doll tilted its head, those button eyes challenging. �Go ahead,� it seemed to say, �try and get rid of me. I�ll just keep coming back and back and back and back��
With a strangled growl, he came for it--holding the amulet out like a tarnished shield. The child tittered from that far away room, gleeful as he swooped down and grasped�only air. Stunned, Daniel looked all around him, but could see no trace of the doll--no sign of it anywhere. He heard a muffled chuckle behind, and it reappeared on the kitchen counter, giggling in delight. Turning, he lunged for it; the amulet vibrated savagely in his hands, the chain slipping through stiff fingers. He adjusted the hold and swiped at the doll--hitting only air again.
�What the��
Another giggle; this time down the hallway, inside the bedroom. Daniel charged through the door, his temper and fear rising as he saw the thing on the windowsill, the shadow it cast moving along the floor as if alive. He yelped and leaped back as the darkness nudged him, kissing his toes. More laughter flowed-- playful, yet, malicious--as if enjoying Daniel�s fear.
�Come and get me Daniel, come and play��
He actually heard those words whispered aloud, seeming to come from everywhere at once. The shadow twitched on the floor, beckoning.
�You�little bitch!�
Grabbing his desk lamp, he pitched it at the doll, watching in dismay as it shattered against the window--the doll dissolving like sand before it made contact. The windowpane shuddered but remained solid--much to his further disappointment.
He stood motionless, ready to pounce once it materialized again. A gurgling titter erupted from the bathroom, and he paused outside the door, amulet tetchy as it swung in his hands. The way the necklace was behaving caught his attention, and looking down, he noticed thick cracks along the silver; much of the surface appeared to rust--and the runes were illegible. Daniel frowned with worry, leaning his head against the bathroom door and listened to the sounds of shuffling inside. Then something touched his sock, prodding. He snatched his foot back, giving the door a hard thump and retreated down the hall.
After the �Valtiel� incident, he�d rather not enter the bathroom again unless he had no other choice. If the doll wanted to stay in there--then fine, it could stay. It could rot for all he cared.
Grumbling and uneasy, he emerged into the living room, expecting to see the doll seated on the sofa. To his relief, his furniture was empty, devoid of unwanted pests except for his toiletries and dirty clothes. Shoving the medallion into his pocket and massaging his aching neck, he cast another glance down the hall and then went into the kitchen to bathe.
He washed his hair in the sink and used the dishrag in other areas, taking care to clean his more sensitive spots thoroughly. He muttered to himself as he washed, feeling like an idiot. This was so unnecessary, especially when a perfectly good bathroom was just a few feet away.
Yeah, so what if a demonic doll and some twitching creature are waiting inside�you can handle it Danny boy. They all just want to drive you nuts or drag you to some messed up hell world--no biggie.
His bladder gave a nasty twinge, and Daniel stopped washing, his stomach cinching in horror. He had not anticipated that problem.
Oh�fuck.
What would he do? Piss in the sink? He looked down at the tiny basin, rubbed his forehead, and then peered around his apartment for another alternative. The windows were sealed, the main door caused him to retch, and his bedroom did not have a bathroom of its own.
Well, shit.
Then an idea came to him as he gazed around the kitchen. He went to the cupboard and rummaged around, finally gasping, elated, when he spied his huge Seven Eleven cup in the back. He plucked it from the shelf and promptly did his business, emptying the cup in the sink when finished. His cheeks burned with shame, but desperate times call for desperate measures--now he just had to figure out a solution when his other �needs� came calling. Something told him that the cup would probably be inadequate.
He shaved the best he could without a mirror, using the reflection of the stove instead. Not bothering to brush his hair, or change his clothes, he reached for the phone; and the daily ritual of calling Melanie began.
He expected dead air or static again, but received neither this time--it rang.
Excited beyond imagining, he waited for Melanie to pick up, but her voice mail was his only reward. The recording came across garbled and low, but he could still hear instructions for leaving a message at the end. Breathing fast, he could barely keep from screaming into the receiver, but he collected himself as the phone beeped, his voice trembling only now and then.
�Melanie�I still can�t get out. It�s been four days now�I�m running out of things to eat. Walter Sullivan actually spoke to me yesterday�explaining all this weird shit about a �Mother� and how he�s going to keep me inside my apartment until I agree to meet her. I need help. I need you to call Frank or something; have someone check on me. I feel odd�I�m so fucking tired--can�t think clearly anymore; I can�t sleep; I keep seeing this thing in the mirror--Walter called it, �Valtiel�--and, and I have this demonic doll that won�t leave me alone�I know it sounds crazy--I know, but it�s true! Please�I need--�
The machine cut off the rest of his words, and Daniel glowered at the receiver. A high-pitched whine shrieked from the phone the next instant, the device growing cold in his hands. For some reason, his hold tightened instead of dropping it, and wincing, he pressed the receiver to his ear. His �sister� was now on the line.
He felt her presence through the connection as if she was standing in front of him: it was like the buzzing of flies over a rotting carcass, the slow decay of withered old bones. Her weary and hateful sigh shivered over the line and crept into his body.
�Brother? When are you coming home? You should let him take you, you know�it�s not that bad�only a little pain, a little suffering�and then you�ll be here�with me��
�Who are you? Tell me your name!� Daniel demanded. �You keep calling me brother, but I don�t know you.
Who was your mother, your father? Do you know your father�s name?�
�Joined in hate, bound by blood, despair calls and madness devours--the suffering divine; like baskets weaving, threads deceiving�are our souls intertwined.� She laughed then, a cackling sound, ceaseless and resounding, causing all the hairs on his neck to rise. He hung up the phone and sent it across the counter in disgust. He tried to push her voice away and that crazy rhyme that echoed singsong within his thoughts.
Why can�t these people just say what they mean? What is up with all this riddle bullshit? All I asked for was a name�
He shook his head and moped, his eyes falling on the easy chair-- and did a double take. There was nothing wrong at first glance, but for some reason, his heart began pounding. He came forward, his body breaking out into a cold sweat.
It was not his chair. It �was� in the sense that it lay in his living room, brown and ugly as the day he first saw it--but it was not �his� chair. It was wrong somehow�it did not �belong� in his living room. The longer he looked at it, the more unnerved he became. Something then slithered out of the corner of his eye--something brown and misshapen--creeping along the wall to his left. Daniel snapped his head around--but saw nothing. He blinked once; another flicker along his right, and he swiveled his head in response. Nothing again. Agitated, he ran his hand under some cold water from the sink, and then pressed his palm to his forehead, taking several deep breaths to calm himself.
Stop it. You�re just tired and spent the entire morning chasing after demon dolls and listening to messed up rhymes. You�re only stressed�just stressed that�s all. You need to get out of here!
He glanced once more at the chair, shuddering, and went down the hallway.
Passing the bathroom, he could hear the doll inside, giggling and bumping into the door. The amulet throbbed in his pocket, and Daniel reached inside, cupping his palm around the necklace as if to shield it somehow. Granted, it should be the other way around, but with this sudden corrosion effect, he wanted to prolong the power for as long as possible.
�You�re strong Daniel--but I can break you��
His expression fell as he recalled what Walter had said, and then it dawned on him why the doll kept evaporating and reappearing--why it kept coming back.
He�s going to break it�
The amulet was under constant stress now, and it would only be a matter of time until it crumbled to pieces; the only thing keeping him sane�would be gone.
Feeling numb, Daniel walked into his bedroom, his gaze upon the white canvas by the window. The little table he had set up beside the easel remained untouched; thinner and brush set neatly upon it. He walked forward until he stood in front of the canvas, the blank surface drawing him inside with arms of comfort. The longer he remained before it, the more it drew him in--until his vision expanded within a wall of ivory.
She came then--his muse. The one who embraced his mind and soul when he painted Walter for the first time. From the deepest part of him she flew, a bird of darkness and anguish, enveloping his sight with an array of color, of horror and madness.
Without glancing from the canvas, he uncapped the paints beside the easel, pulling bottles and colors without thought or care. He reached and slid a brush from the carousal, dipping it into the thinner and then the paint with practiced ease. With brush in hand he paused, eyes blank, devoid of emotion. He seemed spellbound by some otherworldly influence, the canvas acting as a mirror--a reflection of his soul. Passion was in his hands now, in his fingers and brush as his hand glided over the canvas, filling it with hell, with light, and with everything in between�
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Blood Ties