Forever Trust In Who We Are

Chapter LX

The light in the window welcomed him back in Talbot Avenue. The beautiful sight of her unfolded before him as he opened the door, she waited for him in that pretty dress he knew so well, her dark curls dancing over her shoulders as she busied herself around, unaware she's being observed.


The smile that blossomed from his chest reached his lips, tired and weary as he was, a blissful feeling of self accomplishment filled his heart. He'd made it through the journey, now all he had to do was hold her near to be back home.


But as he strolled forward to pull the vision to his arms his feet felt slow and burdened. Staring down he found them sunk in a dirty flood that reached up to his calves, and when he glanced back looking for her, she wasn't there anymore. He found himself in another place, another familiar place...


The empty old house laid in ruins, faded wallpaper peeling down from cracked walls where only the black contours of frames long gone remained for decoration.


"Cricket?" he called her, but the only response was the echo of his own voice. Yet he knew it wasn't her whom he'd find in this place. The bitter certainty hit him as the wooden floor creaked upstairs with the achingly familiar cadence of her walk. Splashing with every stride he reached the foot of the stairs, the carpeted steps narrowing before him. Trembling with excitement he grabbed hold of the frayed oaken handrail —the one he had slid down so many times as a child— and began the climb, each stair squeaking under the weight of his sloppy steps. His chest heaved painfully, about to burst with anticipation. As he climbed up the last step, his heart got caught in his throat at the glimpse of her skirt, vanishing through a dark corridor.

"Who's there?" his question was drowned in the soft murmur of her sweet soprano voice, humming that Elvis song she loved, the way she did when she was painting, or busy in her household chores.


Suddenly he couldn't move forward, his feet nailed to the old, dirty, carpet, he just watched her shadowy figure wander in and out of the rooms across the dark hallway, the volume of her chant growing louder or softer as she passed by.


All this years he'd waited for this moment, dreaming to see her again, having had long imaginary conversations with her, in which he'd tell her about all he had accomplished, about how his dreams were coming true, making her proud. Other times those conversations would turn into resentful interrogatories, in which he would reproach her abandon, demand why she was so weak and stubborn, why she never fought to stay with them, why she never asked for help. And now, having her so near, words simply deserted him and tears blurred his sight.


There, standing at the top of those stairs he was a little boy again.


"M—mom?" his voice was so thin, the word faded away as soon as he pronounced it.


But she heard it, her feet stopped for a moment, but she wouldn't turn in his direction, just a brief pause before vanishing into another chamber.


"Wait..." James forced his legs to walk, interning in the dark hallway. "Mommy, wait..." A raddled door closed before him, devouring the murmur of her voice. His shaking fingers closed around the knob, but when he opened the door right all he could find was an endless pit of darkness.


Hesitating to get in, he cried in the threshold, "Mommy? Where are you going?" Inside he only heard the sound of her footsteps walking away, the low humming fading in the dark. "Wait!" he screamed, afraid to follow her. "I can't find you in there... please don't leave!" his cries echoing off the dank walls. "I'm sorry mommy! I'm sorry I was bad, please come back!"


Falling on his knees he whispered, "Please! Stop leaving me..." But only his sobs kept him company in the dark.


Suddenly he was startled by another noise coming from another room across the corridor, a faint grievous wail. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, slowly getting up, drawn to it, which repeated once and again, calling him there.


"I—is that you?" he asked, trembling in fear as he crossed the hallway, the low cry growing in intensity as he pushed the old door ajar. The putrid smell inside made his stomach turn, the room lied in shadows, but he could see the rotten furniture inside. His pale face, broken in a thousand pieces welcomed him, reflected by a broken mirror hanging from a damp wall. But the mournful cries came from the darkest corner of the room, where an old cradle rested, with a ragged mobile, pending from the dirty ceiling, slowly spinning with a sinister squeaking.


"Oh, shit!" the floor creaked under his feet, the baby seemed to yell harder at the sound of his steps. His heart wanted to jump out of his throat, unable to breath as he approached the abandoned cradle, he covered his ears to stop the horrible wails that pierced his soul, slowly leaning out in fear to see what creature lied in there...





The rings of the phone felt like a hammer drill cutting through his brain, but he awoke sweating and shivering.


"Kristen, the phone," he grunted, squeezing his pillow against his ears, but after some more rings gone unanswered, he blindly reached for the auricular himself.


"Hello?" James croaked, still half sleep..


"How is she?" A woman bellowed through the speaker, stirring the brutal headache that ailed him.


"Huh?" he groaned, blinking several times, confused to remain in the darkness after opening his eyes.


"James? How is Kristen?" This time he recognized the desperate voice.


"Penny?" he asked, totally disoriented. "What are you talking about?


"Are you alright? What's going on? Why aren't you at the hospital?"


" H—hospital? What hospital?"


"James, Kristen is in the hospital."


"What?" He sat up, looking for Kristen's body in vain. "How, why?"


In the dark, the red digits of the alarm clock displayed 8:06.


"I—I don't know... she left a message in my answering machine two hours ago, she sounded in pain but said she was okay, apparently she had a car accident, she said she was at the St. Francis Memorial, downtown."


"Are you sure?" The room came to life as he turned on the bedside lamp, but the light felt like thousands of nails piercing his eyes.


"It's what her message says."


"Why didn't she call me?"


Me.


"I really don't know..."