Death's House

By Rose Marie Wolf

Part Two

“And that’s all I remember, until I came to a few days ago.” She finished and crushed out the half finished cigarette in the ashtray provided for her on the table. She didn’t much like smoking, but she needed something in her nervous hands. “I don’t even remember getting out of the house.”

The doctor wrote something on his clipboard and surveyed her over his thick rimmed glasses. “And you remember nothing else?”

“I remember waking up in this hospital. I remember wondering what the hell was going on.” She said, and her tone was slightly bitter.

“We know it was quite a shock waking up in a foreign place…”

“A shock? That’s all it was? I wake up in a mental institution, with all sorts of needles and tubes sticking out of me and it’s only a shock!?”

“Melinda, please, calm down.”

“I will not calm down!” She stood up from her seat, upsetting its balance. “I have been calm long enough. I told you everything I remember! And this!” She cried and thrust her arms forward. Long red scratches covered both her arms. “I’m sliced open like a fucking Virginia ham!”

“Calm down, Melinda. Just sit down. We can discuss this rationally.”

Melinda looked beyond the doctor and at the muscled orderly standing behind him. His beefy hands looked especially intimidating and she was sure he could crush her without even trying. She set her chair upright and sat.

“Alright, doc. Let’s talk. What happened?”

The doctor seemed taken aback at her sudden change in attitude but no less pleased. He cleared his throat and shuffled through papers on his clipboard.

"Melina Menard was brought in on Wednesday the twenty-fifth, in the early hours of the morning at one fifteen in the morning. The husband, Joel Menard, came home from work…"

She scoffed at the word "work" and the doctor paused only briefly. He scrutinized her carefully over his glasses then went on.

"He came home from work to find his wife missing. After doing a thorough search of the house," He read in a monotone, "He inquired with a few neighbors and discovered the events of earlier that day, regarding Ronda Steward. This led him to her home, where his wife was found, huddled in the downstairs bathroom."

She stared at him with a blank expression when he stopped reading. She felt cold suddenly, as if all of her blood had left her body. She rubbed her arms idly, waiting for him to continue. When the doctor didn't seem ready to, she mocked a cough then spoke.

"What happened after that? What happened to me?"

"Melinda…" The doctor began in a soft tone. He leaned forward across the table and folded his hands in a steeple. "When your husband found you, you were inconsolable. You were screaming. The gashes were already on your arms. They appeared to be self-inflicted…"

"I did not do this!" Melinda protested. The doctor said nothing. He merely nodded as he removed his glasses and proceeded to wipe them down with a cloth from the pocket of his suit jacket.

"It occurs to me that you have a family history of mental illness."

"A what?" She asked blankly.

"Your mother, if I remember correctly, was admitted to this same hospital when she was in her early teens…"

"No, you're mistaken. My mother wasn't crazy. I'm not crazy…I saw something that night!"

"Yes, Melinda." The doctor said. He sounded tired. Suddenly, Melinda knew she wasn't going to get through to him. No one believed her. It had really happened and no one believed her.

"You don't believe me," Now she really was shocked. "You don't believe any of this happened…it did! I saw the portal, I saw the creature. They were real! I saw them!" She stood up. Her chair rattled backwards. The doctor leaned back in his seat, away from her.

"Melinda, please…just take it easy…"

"I will not take it easy!" She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so angry. It surged through her like some powerful drug. "I am not crazy!"

This was an injustice. She knew now what had caused Ronda to go insane. It was the same thing that affected her. It was the man in the mirror. It was the portal. It was something evil.

And no one believed her.

In a fit of rage, she threw the ashtray from the table. It crashed against the wall and sent ash and glass into the air. The orderly jumped into action.

"I know what I saw! You've got to believe me!" She managed to cry before he tackled her down. "Doctor! I'm not crazy! There's something evil there! Please, you've got to tell someone. You've got to stop it. It's not normal!"

She wasn't aware of the needle until the orderly pulled it away. Everything was growing fuzzy. She was getting sleepy. The doctor's face loomed above hers for a brief moment.

"Everything will be fine, Melinda. You just need to rest…" He sounded so far away.

"I'm not…crazy…" She said drowsily. The drugs were taking effect. Within a few short moments, she was out.

When she came to, she was back in the sterile, oppressing room she had first awoken in. This time, however, she could see a tall orderly outside the door's window. She sat up on her bed and ran a hand through her hair.

Idly, Melinda rubbed the sore place on her arm where the needle went in. The drug had worn off but left her feeling a bit lightheaded and tired. She glanced around at her room, now noticing her bed was stripped.

I am not crazy, she thought indignantly. I know what I saw and I am not crazy. The rational part of her mind had returned. It probably wasn't such a great idea for her to burst out like she had during questioning, but her emotions were high. She had just awoken in a strange hospital. Weird things had happened to her and the most frustrating part was no one believed her.

She growled softly to herself and climbed to her feet. Her legs were stiff and she stretched them carefully. She had to figure out what to do. She had to figure out what it was that caused her to…

"No, I did not lose my mind," She said out loud, through clenched teeth. She walked to the barred window and stared out. It was bleak and dreary outside. Rain splattered against the glass pane. She crossed her arms and watched the wind blow the leaves on a tree near the parking lot.

Melinda tried to remember just what happened after the figure stepped out from the mirror but she drew a blank. It was incredibly frustrating.

She was not sure how long she stood there, lost in her own thoughts. When her focus shifted back, she was surprised to find it had become drastically dark. She turned away from the window and back to the door. Light from the hallways spilled across the floor. She neared it. The orderly outside her door shifted his weight slightly and blocked most of the light from coming in. She sighed and returned to her bed.

How could she make them understand? She ran a hand through her hair again, grazing her fingers across her scalp. It felt tender and she winced. She stared down at her fingers as she removed them. They were wet and red with blood.

A memory flashed in her mind of Ronda clawing at her blood-pink hair and wailing, and Melinda shuddered.

What was that thing in the mirror? She didn’t know, but she knew she saw it. It was like something from a bad movie, or a book. She fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. It hurt her head too much to think about it, to try to analyze it, to try to understand it. Within a few moments, she had fallen into a deep sleep.

---

Several weeks later, Melinda stood dressed in normal street clothes, a bag of her belongings slung over her shoulder and awaiting the taxi that would soon take her back home. The midday heat bore down on her, making her feel even more uncomfortable than she was.

The hospital declared her competent and she was free to go. She had explained to them–lied to them–about what had happened. She had made it up, she said. None of it was true. She had suffered from a nervous breakdown, due to her failing marriage. She had lied so well, she almost believed it herself.

Joel had left her. He even came to the hospital with his new lady to give her the news. She felt a pang of hurt, but there was nothing she could do about it. She had expected it, after all. Her stuff still waited for her at the house. She could stay there until she found a new place, he said. He was staying with his girlfriend and he was selling the house.

It figures, she thought bitterly. The cab came into view just around the corner and she hoisted her bag further onto her shoulder. I go nuts and he leaves me.

Now was not the best time to get angry and she quelled it with a few deep breaths and a count to three. The cab stopped in front of her and she climbed into the back without hesitation. She gave the address to the driver and leaned back in the seat as he drove away.

The thought of returning home made her palms sweaty and her stomach flutter. She watched the world go by in blur of green. She was home before she knew it. She paid the driver and grabbed her luggage. But instead of walking the sidewalk to her front door, she moved down the sidewalk toward the old house. She wanted to find out once and for all if she was truly mad. She had to know what was in that house.

She began the long walk down the driveway, eyeing the house closely. Once again, she felt a strange feeling once her foot touched the property. It went through her like electricity. The hair on her arms stood on end. She rubbed them in a futile attempt to calm herself.

"Okay, just take it easy," She whispered to herself. Melinda approached the house slowly. The luggage she carried felt very heavy suddenly and pain shot through her arm. She reached the steps and paused. She dropped the bag and it thudded dully on the pavement.

The house looked ominous and dark. Shadows from the tree in the front yard cast ugly shade across the door. She had never noticed how run down the place looked. Perhaps it had always been that way, and the nuthouse only changed her perspective. Maybe she was seeing things as they really were.

With that thought in mind, she began walking again. The driveway seemed longer than she remembered. The grass was yellow and longer from lack of care. Slowly, Melinda approached the house. She shivered and the hair on her arms stood on end. The unsettling feeling grew stronger as she neared.

The steps seemed too tall and her legs felt heavy. She could hardly lift them to step onto the porch. Her footfalls echoed and she stopped just short of the door. Once more, she felt the strong pull. She had to know. She couldn't hesitate any longer.

She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned. She applied just enough pressure and pushed. The door wouldn't budge. It was locked.

Great, she thought. She hadn't thought of it until now and she sighed. She jiggled the door again, just to be sure. This time she felt it give. The door came open with an audible click.

"That was too easy," She said softly, stunned that it had come open so quickly. She was sure in had been locked.

The desire to step inside distracted her from thinking on it any more. She crossed the threshold and into the darkness of the living room.

The house smelled stale and old. A clock on the wall clicked the seconds loudly as Melinda paused, her hand still on the door. Sunlight streamed in from a window near the back of the hall. Its light did little to improve the dank dimness of Rhonda's house. It made her feel even more uneasy.

Quickly, she searched around the living room and down the hall. The pulsating light she so vividly remembered was gone. The house looked normal. It felt otherwise.

The door shut softly behind her surrounding her in more darkness. Whatever it was that had happened to her was here. She could still feel it. It pulsed through the house, shuddered with the floorboards. The air even felt heavy with it. Melinda didn't like it. It was all wrong.

This is where it happened, she thought as she took cautious steps down the hall. This is where Rhonda went insane. Where I went insane…

No, don't think of that. I am not insane! She told herself fiercely. She took a deep breath. She stopped in the hall. The door was just there. She could reach out and touch it, but she didn't. She couldn't, not yet.

She had to get a grip on herself. She took several deep breaths and closed her eyes. She began to will the painful, scary memories away but their vibrations still resonated. Fear touched a nerve and she began to shake.

No, I have to stay strong. I have find out. I have to remember.

In her mind, she saw the mirror with the blue-white light. She saw the gnarled, skeletal hand reaching for her. She remembered the coldness of the room, the horrified feeling she felt.

No.

A new resolve washed through her. She stopped shaking and clenched her hands tightly into fists. A few deep breaths later and she felt ready. The desire overrode her fear. She had to know. She unclenched her fists and reached for the doorknob.

It turned and opened easily. Slowly, she pushed it back.

A brilliant white light blinded her. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from it. The fear suddenly gripped her again and she tried to refocus her stare. The light pulsed toward her, sucking her in with its irresistible pull. The vortex whirled in the mirror's image.

The temperature was like ice. It made her breath come out in a fog. She gasped, trying vainly to pull away from the mirror.

It's happening again. Oh God, it's happening again.

This time, Melinda was determined to fight it. Even as she struggled internally to step away from the increasingly bright light, her resolve began to melt away. Her eyes were drawn to the depths of the swirling mirror. Within it she saw the dark shadows, the skull head and the black, withered hand that once more began to reach for her.

This time she didn't scream. She didn't break. She stared at the skull with the red glowing eyes. It leered at her with a menacing grin, its fanged teeth gleaming in the whiteness of the light.

"What are you?" She whispered. "What do you want with me?" She was able to resist the temptation to touch the shadowed figure.

The creature didn't answer. Melinda watched as it took a step forward and emerged fully from the mirror. The bright light began to die and the room was once more immersed in darkness. Even the minimal sunlight streaking in through the mini-blinds did very little to improve the dimness.

"Who are you?" She asked again. "What are you?" She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the change in light. The creature looked more sinister in half-lit shadows. It swept an arm, spreading the sleeve of a wide black cloak. She heard a sound, almost like a rumbling thunder of laughter. Then it spoke in a voice that chilled her to the very core.

"I," It began, "am Death."

Melinda realized how much the creature looked like death, like a grim Halloween Grim Reaper. Its white skull-face glowed in the darkness.

"Death," She repeated. She could barely believe it. "You're Death."

"Yes, Death Incarnate."

Melinda shook her head.

"You don't believe me," The cold voice went on. The hand extended toward her and she stepped back, able to move again without the pulsing, irresistible light.

"I believe you," She answered, not quite sure if she was lying or not. "Why? Why are you here?"

There was a penetrating silence. Melinda's heart kicked wildly against her chest. Death. It was Death she had seen. Death, really and truly. This was something only in the movies, something found in books.

"This can't be happening," She said aloud, interrupting any chance Death had of speaking out. "This isn't real. Death—Death is not real…"

"Death is real," It said calmly.

Frustrated suddenly, Melinda shook her head. "No! Death Incarnate is not real!" She lifted her voice, hysterically. "Why are you here?"

"I was here for the woman," It said in a low voice. "It was her time."

"But Rhonda—Rhonda isn't dead. You didn't—"

"I did," It said and Melinda went silent. Death was only standing a foot from her. "A poisoning of the mind. It was her time. It was her fate. It eats away at the mortal body. It's poison."

"I don't understand," She said.

"You are not meant to understand," It said. "You were never meant to be here. It was not your fate."

"I don't understand," Melinda whispered again. Her hysteria exploded in tears. She had backed herself against the wall. She stared at the fiery eyes. "I don't—"

"You were never meant to come here," It said. Its voice changed. The coldness of it became replaced with heat, anger. It still chilled her. "You interfered. Now the poison has touched you."

"Poison?"

"Madness. It eats away at the mortal body. It's poison. You're fate has been changed. It's your time."

"Poison," She said again, understanding finally. "Rhonda is dead?"

The skull-head gave a single nod.

"By poison…"

"Yes."

"And the poison is…in me?"

Death nodded once more.

She realized it suddenly. "Poisoned by madness," She said slowly. She closed her eyes tightly, then reopened them. She looked up at him.

She had fought for so long with her own emotions, fought to control her urges and desires. She had fought for what she thought was good and right. She had fought for her sanity, but her sanity was no longer there. She had been insane all along.

Her reality was altered. This was the truth. This was real. Death had poisoned her with this madness and it was killing her.

"When?" She whispered. "When do I die?"

"Now," Death said. "Right now." He stepped back and began to fade away into darkness. Left alone in the darkened room, she tried to catch her breath. It all made sense. She understood. Death had come for her, to tell her. It was her time.

And then Melinda closed her eyes and there was nothing.