Chapter Ten
“Oh my god, are you seeing this? It’s one of the stick figures. Who do you think made this?” I hand him the page with the drawing as I keep looking through the rest.
“This drawing? This could be anything; it looks like a child drew it. I’m telling you, locals get off on scaring tourists.
I bet when we go to town, we could ask anyone and they will tell you the same.
You’ve been letting this place scare you since we got here and I think you’re making connections where you want to.
Plus, you haven’t been sleeping. You really need to try and relax and get some rest.” He hands me back the page, irritation flooding my mind as I stand up.
I take a step away so I can turn and look at him.
“What are you talking about? It’s exactly like the weird figure you found and don’t tell me to relax. Of course I’m scared. Freaky, fucking shit has been happening nonstop since we got here. I don’t understand why you are so calm about this.”
“To you. Freaky shit has been happening to you. I haven’t felt, seen or heard anything abnormal here, at least not more than someone should expect.
It’s an old cabin in the woods… They’re always creepy, but there’s nothing here.
I think you've been stressed at work and with your dad’s diagnosis and—”
I hold my hand up, interrupting him. “Don’t gaslight me, Luke.
Screw you. Just because I’m stressed doesn’t make my experiences here any less real.
And don’t talk about my dad. You told me we didn’t have to on this trip.
He’s going to be fine and it’s really shitty that you would use that against me.
Maybe, just maybe, YOU are ignoring the signs that something is wrong here, because you’re so desperate to turn me into some kind of camping Barbie who will backpack across the world with you when you know that will never be who I am!
You talk a big-talk about wanting to take care of me and keep me safe.
Wake up and try doing that!” I turn away from him and storm out of the room, taking the notes with me.
I hurry up the stairs to the bedroom, continuing the fight in my mind the entire way.
I don’t understand what’s happening. Why isn’t he seeing the things I am?
Or is he just refusing to? Am I the problem?
I’m really trying here. The thoughts swirl faster in my mind until I climb into the bed, letting the sheets drape back down around the frame, hiding me away from everything outside, everything I don’t want to look at.
I spread the notes across the bed, hoping to make sense of them. I sort through them the best I can. It helps that their author added dates to most of them. The ones that seem to have been written in a hurry, the date forgotten, I set aside.
9/15
I think my uncle lives in a haunted house.
We’ve only been here for a few days, and the weirdest things have been happening.
It started small with bad smells, animal noises inside and outside, doors opening on their own and lights that seemed to have a mind of their own.
The worst part is how dark it is in this place.
9/16
Today my dad found a doll made of twigs outside at the bottom of the steps. He told me I could keep it, but I don’t like it. My stomach and head started to hurt when I touched it, so I left it outside. Later though, I found it on my bed.
9/17
When we woke up this morning my Uncle and his truck were gone.
He didn’t even leave a note. I want to go home but mom says we can’t.
Our car got a flat tire even though it was fine when we got here and there aren’t any phones so we can’t call for help.
Dad decided to go try and find a neighbor.
Fingers crossed he gets back soon. I don’t like it here.
I feel someone watching me constantly. They walk around at night.
I have felt their fingers in my hair and their breath on my skin.
I can’t sleep and when I do I have the worst dreams. They make me feel bad.
Sometimes I see myself in them, like I’m outside of my body.
9/19
Dad came back but didn’t find help. Something is wrong with him; he is sick.
I don’t know what we are going to do. He was tired when he got back yesterday but seemed mostly okay but then he started walking around the house in a daze, refusing to speak to anyone.
A few hours later he came down with a fever and started shaking so badly we had to carry him to bed.
When I got up this morning, I overheard mom saying she found him in another room staring out the window in the middle of the night.
He is back in bed now. I wish he would start talking again.
I’m scared. Something isn’t right here. This place is bad.
Right as I’m about to start another, there is a knock at the door.
I gather up the notes and shove them under my pillow.
I don’t know why, but I don’t want Luke to see what’s in them.
I crawl under the covers and roll onto my side, pretending to be asleep.
I know it’s childish, but I don’t want to face him yet. I hear the door open.
“Hanna? Are you awake?” I close my eyes and don’t answer as I hear him walk over to his side of the bed and climb in next to me.
He puts his hand on my cheek, running his thumb across it gently.
“I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I always want to protect you.
I love you. Sometimes I just let my big mouth get in the way. ”
I open my eyes, but don’t turn to look at him yet. “I need you to believe me. Don’t be another person in my life who makes me second guess myself.”
“I promise.” With a sigh, I roll toward him and give him a small, forgiving smile before scooting closer, tucking my head under his chin.
I bring my arms in so they are resting on his chest as he wraps his arms around me.
Automatically, I feel more at ease. My lack of sleep starts to take a quick effect; my body feels heavy as my mind starts to drift.
The last thought I have before sleep takes me is of the notes: ‘This place is bad.’