When Time Stands Still

Chapter 5

My hand shakes over the musty lid.

This is a bad idea.

Summoning every ounce of courage, I flip it open and brace myself.

Inside is a camera.

The click. Is this what's making the click?

It's big and old and looks like something that would make the noise I finally heard for myself. But how does a camera take pictures by itself? It's impossible.

Eva didn't think it was impossible.

I pick the camera up and it's heavier than I imagined. Underneath it lays photographs. A lot of them.

The top layer is face down but one underneath catches my breath. I see a table, like an old operating table, and blood. A lot of blood.

My head feels fuzzy like I'm going to pass out any second.

What the hell have I found?

I don't want to look but I'm already putting the camera down and my fingers are reaching for the pictures. As soon as I look I drop them onto the floor and cover my mouth.

What is this?

A man, a doctor or surgeon, standing behind an operating table cutting at the bodies of children. There's so much blood it's hard to see anything else. Limbs are missing, huge gashes run from the top of the body to the bottom.

He's not operating on them. He's mutilating them.

My throat fills with the metallic taste of bile.

Is this the answer to what's been going on? Is this man somehow a spirit or some sort of paranormal entity, hell-bent on continuing his gruesome and evil work?

Seriously, how realistic is that?

I shake my head. It's not real. These pictures are probably fake. It could be Eva. She's clearly disturbed by something. She could have left this here to scare me like she did when she woke up that night.

That has to be it. That's the only plausible explanation.

Ghosts aren't real.

They're not real. They're not real.

"Sienna," Mum calls. "I'm home."

I jump at the sound of her voice and frantically gather the photographs I've looked at, shoving them back in the box. I put the lid on and take a breath. I've no idea what to do with this information but I know that Mum will freak. It could be the key to getting her to leave here but we have nowhere to go.

Tiptoeing back towards the loft hatch, I pray that she won't come upstairs looking for me. It'll be mega awkward to explain that one away. She knows I'm not a fan of heights and I've never braved a loft before.

"Be down in a minute," I shout as I lower myself down the ladder.

I get to the bottom and very quietly put the ladder and hatch back. Dashing downstairs, I smile for Mum. "I was just finishing a book," I explain before she's even asked. "How was work?"

"It was fine; I'm glad it's the weekend now, though. Lasagne and salad for dinner?"

"Sound good to me."

"Are you okay, love?"

No. "Yeah, why?"

Do I look shifty?

Mum shakes her head. "I don't know; you look a little pale."

Images of what I've just seen shove their way to the forefront of my mind and I feel like I'm going to hurl. All those kids. I shake my head.