The Richmond Curse - {The Richmond Haunting 2}

Chapter Thirty Five

By now, you're probably thinking, this nightmare will never end. That Fiona and her family will always be at the peril of the old man. And you know what? You could be right.

Because the next day, after reading about Father Jacob, Fiona, when she had brought Katrina home, was again bitch slapped by the old man.

It came when she was in the bathtub, washing her hair underneath the water. She could hear somebody drumming their fingers on the bathroom door. A faint tapping sound, like a quarter note on a piano. Tap, tap, tap.

And when Fiona came up from the water, she saw the old man.

He didn't say anything - but calmly walked over to her; began touching her face with his cold fingers. Then he began to sniff her hair.

Fiona, by this time, had gone numb; she felt vulnerable sitting in the bathtub naked, the old man sniffing her, touching her.

She couldn't move a single muscle, only pray in her thoughts; the devil might go away.

But the old man didn't because in that split second, into the water she went.

In a flash, the world around her became a dangerous place, a sea of chaos, desperate to kill her. She tried to bring herself up from the water. But the hand holding her down was too strong, too slippery. She couldn't grip it.

The bath sea gushed into her mouth and nostrils. Fiona, on the brink of being murdered by the old man. Really believed this was the end for her, that it would be lights out.

She couldn't let that happen. She had to save herself, for the girl's sake.

'Please, God, help me!'

The old man, who she could see — despite the water blurring her vision, was leering over her. The demon was smiling, but his mouth didn't look human. It was to slice across his face. Yellow teeth, gleaming.

'I want to kill you; I need to kill you. I will kill you.'

The old man meant it — he wasn't fooling around or playing nasty games — this really was the end.

No — it couldn't be; Fiona had to fight it - she couldn't let this old cunt win. But the old man was too strong. She couldn't escape, and now she was struggling to breathe, the water suffocating her.

Gurgling sounds came from the water, bubbles farting, and Fiona screaming.

She kept trying to come out of the water. But the old man's fingers were too glued to her face. There was nothing she could do.

It really was the end.

And you know what? There would be nothing spooky about her death.

'Oh, she fell asleep and drowned in the bathtub.'

That's what they would say in the coroner's report: death by drowning.

But that wouldn't happen because finally, she was free; the devil gone.

................

The following day, after the bathroom incident, a social worker made an unexpected visit, and it couldn't come at a worse time because Fiona was in the middle of cleaning out the oven.

Her hands were full of soap and grime.

The social worker, during her visit, had questioned Fiona about Katrina. How she was doing at home? Were there any problems she wanted to speak about?

Fiona, naturally, couldn't tell the social worker about the old man; she had to play dumb.

But not so dumb — she couldn't ask the social worker why she had called around.

'It's common for social services to get involved when a child's at risk.'

'Yeah, right!' Fiona had thought. 'I can see it in your smug smile, in your eyes. You think I'm to blame?'

The social worker — as though she had the power to read into people's thoughts, had told Fiona not to blame herself.

But Fiona did, and before the social worker left, as a safeguarding measure, she told Fiona to take away all the medication and knives around the house.

She also had Fiona agree to a section 20, meaning the local authorities could place Katrina in foster care.

Could this shit get any worse?

...........

Yes, but for now, it was back to CAMHS.

And there at the appointment, waiting outside, her bum not agreeing to the chair she was sitting on. Too spartan, Fiona couldn't stand the waiting anymore.

'I have to know what they're talking about.'

She hoped, as always, Katrina hadn't mentioned the old man, all the terrors back home. Because who would believe that? Not an outsider.

'Try to keep your mind occupied.'

Good idea; the only problem — the magazines on the table next to her didn't interest her. Gardening — home design. All boring stuff in her eyes. And it was the same on Facebook, nothing of note.

'So what, now?'

The ongoing fear. Katrina would be taken away. It really was getting to that stage, especially after signing the S20 document.

How Fiona had been gulled into that; really was trickery. The social worker had put the idea into her head; it was all for the best.

'You want to do what is right by your children, don't you?'

Fiona couldn't say no; it would make her look like a bad parent,

So, she put her signature on the paper, and now with that finger trademark. Fiona would still have her rights as a parent if Katrina became looked after by the state.

Could this shit get any worse? Yes, if that answers your question. There was Harmony.

'He's going to hurt me, real bad.'