5: ‘Kyle, don’t be stupid and pull the freaking door!’

Kyle got up and started for the cash register inside where he talked to Mrs. Heidi for a little bit, obviously debating something.

“Daisy!” Archer growled. “Why did you do that?”

She rolled her eyes. She’s always getting blamed for something. Apparently, it was her fault that the ozone layer is depleting according to her dad. Oddly enough, she used non-aerosol hairspray even though it doesn’t work as well.

“Do what?” she asked, exasperated. “Cut you off when you about to mention that really strange dream? Because I doubt that it has anything to do with the Nashes and I really didn’t want to deal with major ‘Spazz-out-oh-my-gosh-Daisy-and-Archer-are-gonna-die’ just then.”

Archer raised an eyebrow, his face losing that cute look of humor she had seen yesterday. But she still saw some of the softness in his face that she remembered from when he was sleeping on her swing. He was looking deep into her eyes serious. She finally broke the staring contest by turning her glare over to an annoying woodpecker who calling shrilly as it tried to peck a hole into an iron umbrella pole. After about three pecks, the bird looked around flew off feebly.

“How about we see those pictures today,” Archer suggested as Daisy still watched the bird fly off into the distance, “and then we can decide whether we should tell Kyle or not?”

She turned back to him, thinking. That’s fine, she told herself. Then I can prove that there’s nothing to worry about and that we are overreacting about everything.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll go. But what about Kyle? Do you think he’ll be willing to go today?”

“Oh, he’ll come,” he assured her, his mood slightly lighter as he sat back, his arms crossed behind his head and his leg up on the railing of the patio beside him. “He’ll complain at first, but he’ll actually want to go. He’s just strange about thing like that.”

There was a sudden muffled THUMP from inside the café. The door swung open and out came Kyle, rubbing the side of his face.

“I always forget you have to pull that door open!” he told them. “That woman should put a sign up. ‘Kyle, don’t be stupid and pull the freaking door!’”

He stood there, looking from Daisy to Archer over and over again. Archer was looking grimly pleased while Daisy looked grimly murderous. The more she thought about the idea, she had a horrible feeling that the stupid painting in the stupid house would be just similar enough for Archer to freak out and go crying to Kyle about how an evil lady tortured him last night in a dream and then Daisy stumbled in all of a sudden. Day two in foreign state South Carolina, she thought. And apparently my crazy Satanic neighbors are going to kill me and my neighbor. And I thought this new life would be boring. How silly of me…

There was still a strange silence as Kyle looked between the two of them over and over again. She followed Kyle’s amused gaze to Archer who quickly jumped up, telling Kyle that he thinks it would be a good idea to see the drawings at that moment instead of the next day. Daisy could have sworn that Archer was looking at her, not grimly as he was before, but gently…admiringly. She smiled slightly to herself, pretending to look interested at a dog that was running down the street as she felt herself blush.

“Today?” Kyle whined. “Why can’t it wait?”

“Daisy really wants to see them,” Archer lied.

Well, there go all those special feelings down the drain! Daisy thought, practically screamed, in mind. Since when did she really want to see them? If she recalled correctly, he was the one who came up with the idea and she only agreed because she thought it would end his superstitions.

“Oh, so if Valentino wants to see them, we have to go now?” Kyle asked.

“Can you stop calling me ‘Valentino?’” Daisy asked. “It’s what my dad’s old college friends call him…”

“Whatever,” Kyle grumbled. “The guys aren’t gonna be too happy. We were gonna have another game today.”

“Well, we’ll have it when we get back,” Archer snapped. “Just let’s go. I’m getting bored waiting here.”

Kyle grunted and began to lead the way out of the café. Archer held back a little and motioned for Daisy go in front of him. She glanced at him, thoroughly annoyed.

“Why did you do that?” she asked quietly.

“The same reason why you are second guessing yourself,” he told her. “Go. Kyle’s waiting.”

What a weirdo, Daisy thought to herself. If this is how all of those popular jocks are like in high school, it’s no wonder that I’ve never gotten along with them. But she knew he was different: one of those people who could read what people were thinking and feeling through their eyes. She couldn’t decide if she hated it or loved it.

Instead of opening the gate, she put her hands on the railing and leapt over it. It was weird things like that made it easy to spot her out in the crowd. She’d be the one going the wrong way on purpose or running instead of walking. Archer looked at her, amused, while Kyle just started laughing.

“What were you in your old school?” Kyle asked as he started leading them down a street.

“What do you mean?” Daisy asked warily.

There were kids on their bikes trying to do jumps off a makeshift ramp. Old couples walked down the street holding hands while cheering for the kids who successfully became airborne and encouraging the 

others to try again. It was such a cheerful scene, but Daisy found herself thinking horribly of the old lady who died, claiming to have seen the inside of the Nashes’ home.

“Like, were you the popular kid? A punk? An outcast?” he supplied.

“I was Daisy,” she told him. “My high school wasn’t really into labels. There were the superficial kids, but they were sort of a joke because they’d always say how they were going to move to Orange County, California but they were always back after college working the minimal paying jobs because they learned the hard way that money can’t buy everything.”

“Ouch…”

“Yah, pretty much,” she agreed. “There was also the small group of emo kids, but no one paid attention to them because they were really…weird. They onetime pushed me down the stairs to release their anger when the principal asked if they could stop smoking on campus and asked the guys to stop wearing eyeliner and mascara.”

She laughed to herself when she remembered that day. A kid sped by on his bike, nearly hitting her as he tried to avoid a mailbox.

“SORRY!” he shouted.

“What did you do?” Archer asked.

Daisy laughed again. Such a brilliant story, she thought, remembering everything so well. A large green house cover in foliage and vines started to rise out of the shadows of the end of the street where everything dead-ended. She quickly noted how, as they got closer to the end of the road, the houses got older and older. The colors were duller and duller, breaking away from the typical beachside pinks, yellows, and blues. The styles got more a shrunken plantation look than a southern-style beach house. The yawn got more and more overgrown and wilder. She noticed that the younger kids didn’t dare come this way.

“I broke one of their noses,” she told him. “But it was okay because they broke my hand in the process of trying to grab me in the first place to throw me. At first, I thought who I punched was a girl, so I didn’t feel so guilty because she’d have every right in the world to hit me back while a guy shouldn’t because of the whole ‘be a gentleman’ thing. But when I was explaining to the principal that she ran into my fist, I found out her name was Eric.”

Archer and Kyle roared in laughter. Daisy knew what they were thinking: What kind of girl breaks people noses for pushing her down the stairs? She sighed heavily, asking herself mentally the same question.

“What happened after that?” Kyle asked as the house grew in front of them.

“Nothing,” Daisy replied, jumping onto the driveway. “They broke my hand so badly that I had to get surgery on it. They couldn’t suspend me or anything. It’s a little more alarming when someone hurts someone else so badly that they have to go to the hospital.”

Suddenly, they went silent. They didn’t even realize how fast they were walking, finding themselves standing at a large grey door with a gold door knocker covered in golden leaves. There were webs covering it and the corners of the rough porch. Daisy guessed that it used to be white judging by the white that was peeling off in the least weather-exposed edge and corners of the porch. If one looked around the house, one would see the massive lake filled with plants and floating dead fishes covered in scum. Above them, willow branches were touching them with its silvery, delicate leaves. Next to the door, ivy had latched itself into the wall, curving into the crack between the door and the frame. In other areas, it was growing into windows and breaking holes into the siding. One of the windows that were overlooking the porch was shattered. Oh, so cliché, she thought, annoyed. An overgrown, old house at the end of the street that everyone avoids. It’s special, although cliché-beyond-reason touches are broken windows, peeling paint, spider webs galore, an old scummy lake, ivy growing on the house, and a big willow tree that looks like it’s eating the yard. This looks like a really bad horror movie set.

“I’m assuming that no one has lived here since the artist died,” she said.

“No one has lived here except for the artist,” Kyle told her. “This house actually isn’t that old. But the heat makes everything grow like crazy.”

They all stood there for a few seconds, no one moving, just looking at the door. Daisy let out an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t everyone jump to the door at once,” she told them sarcastically.

She reached forward turned the door handle. Kyle and Archer watched her, waiting. She sighed and let go of the handle. They both let out a cruel laugh.

“You’re too scared to open the door!” they cried.

Idiots.

“The door’s locked,” she told them. “If you can open locked doors, please do so now. I’m a little more interested in this now that I was before.”

She walked over to a window as Kyle and Archer were exchanging dumbfounded expressions. There were two windows on the porch. Daisy found herself wishing the broken window was one level lower so they could go through there. But, as her mind usually worked, she thought, If there isn’t an open entrance, make your own. She picked the looser of the two windows and then CRASH!

“What the—?” Archer yelled.

“Valentino! Do you want to get us all into trouble?” Kyle asked furiously.

She carefully untangled her foot out of the blinds and pulled it out of the hole she had just made. There’s was half of the glass on the porch and the other half was in the house.

“Three things, Kyou chull,” Daisy said coldly, her voice oddly even out of force. “First thing, we already are breaking into a house to steal something, so I don’t see how much more trouble we can get ourselves into. Second thing, we all want to get inside. You guys should be thanking me for making a new entrance into here. Third thing, I already asked you to stop calling me ‘Valentino.’ My name is Daisy.”

She began breaking the rest of the window to make the makeshift entrance large enough for them to get through. She heard glass crunch as someone walked on top of it. When she turned, Archer was standing next to her, prepared to kick through the glass.

“Use your heel,” she told him. “You can break your foot otherwise.”

“How do you know that?” he asked her as he kicked out a side of glass.

“I did it once,” she admitted as Kyle came over, obviously trying to keep watch. “I was trying to run away, but I broke my right foot. So I used my left one and managed to get away for a full day before the police found me.”

Another side of glass came down, sprinkling shimmers of sharp glitter onto the ground. She could feel Archer and Kyle watching her carefully, debating whether or not to ask her why she ran away. Finally, Archer spoke, Kyle clearly thinking he shouldn’t speak anymore.

“W-why did you try to run away,” he asked slowly.

“I found my mother,” she told, trying to keep her tone casual as broke away the last corner of the glass. “She was lying in the kitchen. Her eyes were black and she had the Sigil of Baphomet carved into her skin. Here, we can go in know. I’ll go first.”

Kyle put his arm into front of her to stop her and said, “Honestly? Daisy, I’m so sorry.”

“Yah, Daisy, I just thought maybe your parents were divorced or something,” Archer whispered. “I’m sorry; that’s such a horrible thing to happen.”

“Don’t be,” Daisy said coldly. “She wasn’t much of a mother. And her and my dad would never be able to get a divorce because they were never technically married. Everyone always called my mom ‘Valentino’s Mistress’ because of that. I was running away because I was finally free, but all the doors were locked and I couldn’t unlock them for some reason. After that, my dad really changed. He’s a different man. A better man. It was her who was messed up, never him. Can I go through now?”

Archer’s face was soft as he looked at Daisy and then the window. His eyes were large with understanding.

“I’ll go first,” he said. “Make sure it’s safe, you know.”

Kyle nodded and patted him on the back, saying, “Good man.”

Archer reached into the window, muttering something that sounded like “can’t get into much more trouble” as he pulled on the blinds. There was a cracking sound as the blinds fell away from the wall and dust showered from above. He held his breath to away breathing in any of the ancient grime as it rained down upon him. He pulled himself out of the window and looked to Kyle and Daisy. He was covered in grey, making him look as though he had suddenly aged by hundreds of year. It would have been funny if the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as it was. He began to brush away to thick layer of dust, Kyle and Daisy joining in to help him. Finally, his face was tan and his hair was brown, the red of his polo coming through.

“Smooth,” Kyle chuckled.

Archer smiled lopsidedly. It was similar to the smile Daisy had seen yesterday for the first time: carefree and boyish. He ruffled his hair unconsciously and a slight cloud of dust rose off his head.

He looked into the window, Daisy and Kyle following his lead. After a few seconds of adjusting their eyes to the light, they saw the filthiest room they had ever laid eyes on. It looked as though it was supposed to be a dining room, but the chandelier had long ago fallen down on top of the heavy oak table, splintering it. It appeared as though the artist was just about to eat his dinner when he died because there were broken plates and still some fragments of slowly decaying food, whatever the hell it was. The ivy had grown into this room, too, coming out of the hole the chandelier had once hung. There were crooked paintings of lakes and beaches on the walls. The lake was obviously once crystal clear and full of life, but now, it was dead just as the artist and the house was. The floors were made of dark wood, showing every scratch. From this room, there were two exits: a door in the far right corner and a set of centered heavy double doors to the left.

“Cheers,” Archer said, carefully crawling through the window.

“I’ll go next,” Daisy told Kyle approaching the window.

She carefully tried not to touch the sides of the window frame so she wouldn’t cut her hands as she put one leg through the window. There was a crunch of glass from the ground and dust rose around her foot. She ducked into the window, her body halfway into the house. Her hand found something warm that helped pull her into the house. Her other leg followed her inside and she found herself standing with both of her hands in Archer’s. Before anyone could say anything, Kyle’s voice interrupted.

“Hey, you two! Stop being gushy and help me out of this damn window!”

Kyle’s head, left leg, and right arm were inside, but the rest of him was outside, coming horribly close to get cut by glass on all sides. Archer and Daisy released each other’s hands and rushed to Kyle’s side, pulling him through, practically carrying him through the window. Finally, he was standing next to Archer and Daisy looking disdainfully at the room.

“God, this is worse than my room,” he said. “So where do we go, now?”

Archer looked at Kyle, his eyebrows knit together again.

“Well, if I remember correctly from all of those times that I’ve been here,” Archer began sarcastically.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kyle said quickly. “Where do you think we should go?”

Archer looked around the room, thinking. Daisy went to the double doors, unlocked them, and pushed them open. The force of moving air sent dust flying everywhere.

“This looks promising,” she said, Archer and Kyle scurrying up behind her.

The main hallway had the same formality as the dining room, the walls covered with paintings and the same wooden floors continuing throughout the house. There was a moldy set of stairs leading to a hall that overlooked the main hallway. It was so dark that it was hard to see much else despite the fact that it was bright and sunny outside. Everything looked oddly water-stained as if it had rained inside the house. Daisy looked up and there were multiple holes in the ceiling, but they were covered by willow branches. Willow trees don’t usually grow that big, she remembered. They usually split when they get that large.

“How about we split up and check all of these different doors?” Archer suggested, following Daisy’s gaze to the ceiling.

“Sure! Go Team Awesome!” Kyle shouted.

“Loser,” Archer muttered as he open a door to reveal an office.

After a few minutes of checking all of the rooms downstairs, revealing a master bedroom, a bathroom, an office, a kitchen, a living room, a keeping room, and two closets, the trio decided to go upstairs. They approached the moldy stairs, looking at them skeptically.

“Okay, I’m the lightest,” Daisy said. “I’ll go first.”

Choosing to walk as close as she could to the wall, the wood felt soft under her converses. Her hand slid against the peeling, damp wallpaper. A spider scuttled across her hand and she blew it off. She could hear Archer and Kyle start to climb up the stairs behind her, mimicking her movements. Finally, they reached the top of the steps. They glanced around a bit and then Daisy said, “Okay, same procedure.”

The three of them split apart to find the door that led to the mysterious sketch and painting. They all tried to stay as close as they could to the walls in fear that they would fall through the soft, watery wood. Each door released a heavily moldy smell mixed with the smell of decaying wood and other unknown odors, giving Daisy, Archer, and Kyle only as long as they could hold their breath to look around in the room for any signs of notable artwork. Why the hell are we doing this again, Daisy couldn’t help thinking.

“Hey, guys!” came a voice. “Guys, come here!”

Kyle’s voice was weak as he looked into a room at the end of the hall. Archer and Daisy carefully rushed to where Kyle stood. His pale face was whiter than ever, he pointed into the room. At first, Daisy wasn’t 

sure what to do. There, on a desk, was the layout of a house and next to it, a strangely familiar scene painted onto a canvas. But before she was about to say anything, she noticed a strange lump of clothes and—her heart leapt with utter shock—rotting flesh. The scent was unlike anything she had ever smelled.

“That’s Gregory,” Kyle whispered. “The artist.”

“Why the hell is he still here?” Daisy’s was so shrill and panicky. “You’d think the police would move his body to proper grave or burn it or something!”

“I bet the police were too afraid to touch the body,” Archer said, trying to keep his voice even. “They are so superstitious.”

They stood there, trying to keep from breathing. Starting to second-guess their ideas of coming here, Daisy started to walk around the wall in the room. Archer and Kyle both grabbed her arms to still her.

“What are you doing?” they cried.

“I’m getting the paintings,” she told them calmly. “Please let go of me.”

They both reluctantly released her arms and Daisy started again, walking around the edge of the wall. Dust had not been able to settle in the room because it was so damp, like so many other rooms in the house. The desk was in the center of the room with a green desk lamp resting on top of it. She went for it, the floor groaning under her feet, but no sound was given off. Her steps were slow and carefully placed until she was behind the desk. She picked up the two canvases and gave one last look to unfortunate Gregory to her left. On his throat, Sigil of Baphomet was carved into his skin. His black, empty eyes were wide open in what was once fear. It was as if he had been awake for a few moments before he finally died. Daisy’s mother flashed into her memory. The same position of her body, the same eyes, and the symbol on her throat—it was all the same. In his hand, there was a sharp pen covered in blood. Daisy’s stomach flipped over with a horrible understanding.

She felt the floor under her feet give an almighty groan and Daisy jumped to wall in one leap. She felt the ground fall away with a muffled crash, but she hit the wall and was standing on a tiny bit of safe floor. She looked behind her to see the desk and the body crumble out of sight and Kyle and Archer screaming. She raced along the wall and pushed past Kyle and Archer. She ran as fast as she could down the stairs, her two prizes clutched to her chest. She could hear Kyle and Archer thunder down behind as she literally kicked down the door (she picked up skills randomly; she learned how to kick down a door in a book) and tumbled into the driveway.

“Daisy! Wait! Stop!”

She screeched to a halt and looked behind her. Archer and Kyle were jogging up behind, panting in shock. They were standing the middle of the driveway. She was still holding the painting and the sketch.

“Let’s look at those before we run off,” Kyle said.

She nodded and sat down on the driveway, setting the two items they just stole from a dead guy side by side. The house layout was detailed, showing the upper level and the lower level with seemingly perfect dimensions. In the corner of the layout, the Sigil was sketch out in what looked horribly like blood. Daisy then switched her gaze to the painting.

“Damn,” she muttered.

It was like déjà-vu. There was the chamber from her dream, every detail perfected.

“Daisy, can I tell him now?” Archer asked weakly.

A/N: Yah, speed writing much?! This is easily the longest chapter for this story so far! A little over 4,000 words! :D I really quick wanted to apologize for the 1984 move that I pulled in the fourth chapter. I promise though, that it'll be relevant to the story. (Thanks, GrannyP, for bringing that up! :D) Thanks everyone who's been reviewing! I hope this is an improvement from the last chapter! ;) And please support me in the SKoW when voting begins!

-Kay (Brownies for my lovely reviewers!)