Chapter Text
“Well done, Alison.” I said to myself loud in Finnish, my mother tongue. “Let’s give up everything and move to the UK without enough money to last for a month? Sure. End up in the middle of nowhere in the English countryside? Yes, why not? Go find an old manor haunted by the ghost of some dead kid? Hell yeah, sounds great!”
A hooting sound interrupted my sarcastic monologue.
“It must’ve been an owl.” I thought. I suddenly wanted to know the time so I pulled the old, muted phone out of my pocket and checked the screen. It was about five a.m. I grimaced with a whiny sigh and continued my journey through the dark forest.
I was firmly following the tight road that led me deeper in the tree maze by every single step I took. After ten more minutes of walking my feet were about to give in so I stopped again to rest and dropped the heavy backpack on the ground. I looked upon the sky and let out a frustrated groan. There was nothing unusual about the early autumn British weather, the grey clouds covered almost all the stars above and I felt incredibly lucky it wasn’t raining that night. “What would I do then? I certainly couldn't handle walking in the muddy forest, soaked in rain, I have enough things to worry about already.” I thought.
First of all, I was homeless. I left my hometown in Finland because it didn’t feel like home anymore. I'd always been a good girl, a decent person, I always did what my parents and society told me to do - I had good grades, the perfect boyfriend, got a dual degree at one of the best universities in my country, I was kind to people and helped everyone who asked me to help.
My life looked like a glittered box on the surface but my inner demons didn’t stop screaming at me every night that I wasn't happy at all. Those thoughts were eating me up from the inside and I couldn’t do anything to stop them. I felt like dying in my “perfect” life. When I shared my frustrations with my loved ones they only made fun of me for being a pessimist and assured me that was exactly how real life was supposed to be which I should’ve accepted. They tried to pressure me into getting married and having children with my ex-boyfriend because "that's what normal people do". They told me to work on my career, make a family and live a happily ever after. There was only one tiny problem with this idea. I wasn’t happy.
So I ran away.
Two years had passed by, I moved from country to country, I traveled, I volunteered. I was lost and desperately searching for something I couldn’t find yet. That was how I ended up in England, basically just picked another getaway destination. But things didn’t seem to work out the way I planned.
For the last few weeks I'd been staying in a motel near a small, friendly-looking English town on the North. I got a room and some food for helping out the cleaning staff in the old building until they decided to close the motel temporarily for renovation. Since then I couldn’t find another job, nor a place to stay.
That’s right. I was unemployed and homeless. Me, Alison, the “perfect, shy, good girl” Alison.
I started to laugh hysterically as the depressing thought crossed my mind. A good girl wouldn’t have gotten so excited when she heard stories about an old manor standing in the middle of the forest, left empty by its owners with a haunted doll inside. A good girl wouldn’t have decided to take the road on her own to find the manor because she didn’t have anywhere to stay. A good girl wouldn’t have miscalculated her walking abilities and wondered around blindly in the middle of the night.
I was exhausted and jumped by every small noise I heard but there was a different, weak sensation tickling my stomach from the inside. Something simply felt right about this sad, pathetic situation I put myself into. It was a disturbing thought but it was there in my head. Insane it sounds but getting lost in the nightly forest to find this empty haunted house felt right. It felt right because it was my own decision. It might be a careless and dangerous decision, but it was my way. As I looked upon the dark blue sky a strange way my heart felt lighter than ever.
When I accepted that I was probably a crazy person, an almost cathartic laugh escaped my mouth. I was free at least. Free to be crazy and stupid. My relieved laugh didn't last for long as I heard a noise of rolling wheels and saw a car in the darkness.
“Is it coming from the Heelshire manor? I thought nobody has been staying there recently.” I thought to myself in surprise as I quickly hid behind a tree. I didn’t know who these people were and I got scared. I was definitely safer on my own.
The car was rolling slowly on the dirt road and when it took the sharp turn next to my hiding spot I caught a glimpse of the driver. A woman. She was around my age, probably a few years older than me. She was wearing a dark hoodie and her face looked dirty. But the most disturbing thing wasn't necessary her appearance but the odd smile on her face. She smiled like she just won a battle, as if she just defeated a monster. For a second I was sure I saw another person in the car who looked like a man, sleeping. Or injured?
“Stop seeing more into things than they are.” I scolded myself. “And you’re the one who's judging that woman for her crazy smile after loudly laughing and talking to yourself only a few seconds ago? C'mon, Alison...”
I pick up my backpack as I tried to forget about the car and continued my walk in the direction of the Heelshire manor.
I quickly summarized the things I knew about the building I'd been looking for. The owner was an old couple. They went on a longer holiday a few weeks ago but never returned, no one had heard about them since then. They had a son called Brahms who died in a fire accident in 1991 at the age of eight. That means he'd be thirty-three by now. The parents couldn’t let go of their son's memory so they made a life size doll resembling to the eight year old Brahms and raised it as it was a real child. I heard that they even tried to find a nanny for him.
A guest whose room I was cleaning in the motel shared some of his favorite ghost stories about the Heelshires' house. He told me that people believed the doll was haunted by the little boy’s ghost whose soul couldn’t cross the other world’s boarder and trapped in the doll ever since his death.
Well, not that I didn’t believe in some paranormal existing, I didn’t buy the haunted doll story. I believed people just enjoyed gossiping about this poor couple who had lost their child in tragic circumstances. And there weren’t many things I hated more than gossiping.
Suddenly I felt my heart jump as I saw the old Victorian style gate of the Heelshire property. I made it. I couldn't believe I made it. I found the manor in the middle of the night without getting killed by psychos or getting lost for good. After the first shock I walked through the open gate, towards the enormous building which looked more like a mini castle than a house.
I still had to walk for a few more minutes to finally see the huge heavy looking entrance door of the Heelshire manor.
So I’m really going to do this. I’m going to walk into this huge, allegedly haunted house and stay here for the night... I was scared as my flashlight enlightened the giant door, the lump growing bigger in my throat second by second but there was another feeling defeated my fear. Excitement? Adventurousness? Curiosity? A feeling of nothing to lose? Who knows...
My heart started to beat even faster as I opened the heavy, wooden door. The creaking sound of the old material broke the silence of the night and sent a strong shiver down my spine.
Should I say something? Maybe a hello? After a second I decided to quietly walk through the house. I was scared and it seemed to be a wiser choice to stay quiet.
What if a burglar broke in the house and is still here? I took small steps as I reminded myself that I didn't have the right to be there either, quietly sneaking in a house that wasn't mine. I was just as mush as an intruder as a burglar would've been. I almost scolded myself for being a terrible person but before I could have got lost in my guilt, I saw it. There was a body in the first room I walked into.
I quickly placed my hands over my mouth to suppress the scream that desperately wanted to leave my lips. It was a long haired, bearded man's body. His eyes were open reflecting a terrified look of his last moments of life. He was clearly dead, a piece of porcelain sticking out of his neck. There was something else lying next to him. A doll. At least the body of a life size doll. The head was missing.
Then I finally realized where it'd gone. The head of the doll was shattered into a million tiny pieces all around the room.
Wait a second… Did the piece of porcelain sticking out of the bearded man's neck belonged to the doll’s face as well? Was he stabbed with it?! Is this the Brahms doll I heard about so much? I stood there completely frozen, not being able to move. Were the woman and man in the car part of this fight? They must have been, they came from the direction of the manor. What the hell happened here? Were they criminals? Burglars? Did they kill this man?
The fear I felt was nothing compare to what I felt when I saw the red sign on the wall. “GET OUT” it said. It was written with blood.
“That’s it, I’m leaving.” I said loudly and flinched towards the entrance door.
That was the moment when I heard it again. A silent noise I thought I was imagining while examining the horrifying scene in the game room. It was a silent but painful moan coming from upstairs. Someone was there in the house.
For a few seconds I couldn’t decide what to do. My survival instinct screamed at me that I had to run as far as I could and never look back. Be smart, run as fast as you can until your phone gets power and call the police. I clenched my eyes as I felt my own hesitation.
“But what if someone got hurt and needs my help? I can’t just leave like I didn’t hear anything.” I thought.
I took a deep breath and started to take the stairs with explicit steps.
I saw some pale light coming from the fourth floor - which was the highest one - so I assumed the person whose sighs I heard was there. Heavy breathing pervaded my ears as I walked through the corridor, following the light.
I entered the room, my hear racing up in my throat even if I expected to see an injured person in there.
It was another man around thirty. He was lying on his back in front of the open door, quietly moaning and desperately trying to move his upper body from the ground without any success. He held his right hand around a screwdriver that was sticking out of his stomach.
A screwdriver was sticking out of his stomach...
Yes, he definitely needs help.