Shrieking Manor Chapter 12 (Patreon)

Before Rebecca knew solace from the haunting visions of Melissa’s torment, she was tumbling onto the hard, unforgiving floor. She landed on her side, caught only by the meat of her arm to save her from more harm than a dusty elbow bruise. Her mind was still with Melissa’s memories. The sensations, the taunting, the complete and total helplessness. It all came crashing onto her in waves. Rebecca screamed. There were no concerns of alerting or angering Mommy. There were no considerations to where Melissa or the others were. At that moment, Rebecca was alone more than she had ever felt before. She heaved, lurching against the urge to vomit. Tears streaked her cheeks. Her hands clenched as they shivered against the dirty ground.

It took Rebecca several moments to collect herself. As the tears faded from her eyes and the wailing eased from her throat, she was met with a familiar darkness and silence. The room was just as she knew it to be: abandoned, filthy, and pitch black from both the darkness and the char caking the walls. Rats scurried and squeaked in odd intervals, but none of it rattled Rebecca the way Melissa’s memories had. She stood. Her head rested against her head to soothe the pounding. She looked around the room for the only source of light she knew that she had in the manor. Miraculously, the camera stayed on. Rebecca had no coherent concept of time, she was just thankful that the battery could hold out for as long as it did. The camera rested on the floor by the door. Rebecca got her bearings, taking a moment to find her balance from the whirlwind of hysteria she had just endured, and reached to pick it up.

“M-Melissa?” Rebecca asked softly. She held up the camera and looked around. Silence answered back, one both comforting and unnerving. Heavy breaths fell from her lips. Rebecca stared into the grainy green screen glowing back at her. The room was absent of both Melissa and mommy, reverting to its decrepit, cindered state.

Light greeted Rebecca once she stepped back out of the room and into the central hallway. The lights that had illuminated the way remained brightly humming. Rebecca picked up on the faintest sounds of laughter and unrest farther down the corridor. A dense cloud of misery hung over the wing. It carved a pit deep into Rebecca’s gut. She swallowed and looked around.

“You did it,” Malachi said from behind Rebecca. She spun to see Malachi’s ghostly figure standing with a somber expression resting across his face. Behind him stood Dylan and Scarlett, looking back at her.

“Did what?” Rebecca asked, her head still spinning. “Where’s Melissa?”

“You freed her,” Scarlett said. “She showed you the worst of it and, well, now she’s gone.” Rebecca stood and stared, her expression twisting quizzically. She thought for a second and looked away.

“That… was hell…” Rebecca said.

“Nothing compared to the fire,” Dylan commented quietly.

“Yes, but that was over much more quickly,” Scarlett said. A pause fell over the group. Rebecca stared back at the three spirits before her. A vacuum in the shape of a spirited, sweet young girl howled silently. More weight of what the Manor was to them crushed down on her chest. Rebecca cleared her throat. Her eyes began to well and ache. She sniffled, gaining the attention of Scarlett and Dylan. Rebecca buried her face into her hands. Slowly, she began to sob.

“I… I’m so sorry… that you all had to…” Rebecca said. She stopped before weeping harder, making speaking nearly impossible. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Tears poured down her cheeks. Scarlett came closer. A chilling current brushed against Rebecca’s arm as Scarlett reached out to touch her.

“It’s okay,” Scarlett said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Rebecca managed in her cry. “But…. you shouldn’t have had to…” She paused again. Dylan let out a hard sigh.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dylan said.

“It does, though!” Rebecca argued. “You all had lives! Passions. Families.”

“Families that allowed for all this to happen in the first place,” Dylan barked back. “Some of us had nothing. Not even a reason to be here.”

“I had Nicole,” Scarlett said softly. Dylan groaned.

“Fine,” Dylan said. “Then maybe… maybe I was luckier to not be missing out on anything.”

“Dylan,” Rebecca said. “When you get free, when you can leave this place… what will you do?” Dylan stared off. His arms, thick and muscular for his age, were crossed in front of his chest. His brows furrowed as a hardened grimace came to his face.

“Don’t know,” Dylan said. “Never thought about it. Don’t really have any ties to anything.”

“Nothing?” Scarlett asked. “Not friends or maybe an old sweetheart?”

“And what good would that do me?” Dylan asked. He stopped for a moment, his face deep in thought. “Maybe I’d go see how my old buddies are doing. The least I could do is make sure they’re all doing alright. Can’t imagine them, or anyone, really cared after I died, but what the hell?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rebecca said. “You’ve gotten me to care.” Dylan shrugged. “Maybe you can count me as a friend.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted me as a friend,” Dylan said. “You still need to go through what I went through.” Rebecca thought for a moment. She huffed and came closer to the boy.

“I don’t care about that,” Rebecca said. “I know… I’m doing all this to get out of here, but after seeing what I’ve seen… you all deserve that too. I’m not just doing this for me anymore.” Rebecca turned around and started storming down the hallway.

“What are you saying?” Dylan said, following her. “Don’t act like we all of a sudden matter.”

“You do,” Rebecca said, turning around to face the floating apparition. “And I’m sorry if you died thinking otherwise. That ends today.”

“You still intend to free them all?” Malachi asked dryly from the back.

“I do,” Rebecca said. “I don’t care what this ‘Mommy’ puts me through. I’m getting out of here, but not without all of you.” Dylan looked back. Scarlett shot him a sly grin.

“I didn’t think… anyone would keep going through this for us,” Dylan said. His tone lowered, the anger in his voice softening. Scarlett glided closer.

“I didn’t hold out well either, Dylan,” Scarlett said, her delicate red hair flowing behind her as if suspended in water. “But no one deserves to stay here.”

“She’s right,” Rebecca said. “Now what happened to you next, Dylan?”

“Me?” Dylan asked.

“Yes,” Rebecca said. “If it’s to prove to you that I’m serious, that you matter, I’m freeing you next. Now where did she take you?” Even in Dylan’s ethereal form, a light pink glow bloomed slightly in his cheeks, despite the absence of blood. He looked away, shifting anxiously where he stood.

“If you’re serious,” Dylan grumbled, “room 12.” Rebecca turned to the plaques on the walls reading room numbers with slots to be filled by attending physicians. She flipped a strand of loose black hair out of her face and pressed forward. Rebecca let a slow, dragging breath escape through pursed lips. The haunting groans of laughter continued through the halls like a distant, anguished melody. She went forth, stepping around debris and medical waste, until she came upon the room marked ‘12’. Rebecca stopped. A shiver ran across her back. She stretched out and cracked her neck before turning back. The other three had followed, with Malachi standing behind.

“You’re serious about this?” Dylan asked. His tone had reached a strange calm, a temperate content with the absence of anger. “There could be another way for you.”

“She’s certain,” Malachi said. They all turned to him. Malachi shot them all a quick smile. “This is the only way.”

“I don’t know about either of that,” Rebecca said. “But Melissa is gone… and I’d like to think that what I’ve done finally set her free. So, I’m going to do the same for all of you.” Dylan nodded. Scarlett looked down with a smile.

“Fine,” Dylan said. He gestured toward the door. It was solid and uniform with all the others. Rebecca breathed slowly inward and outward before reaching for the handle. “Hey.” Dylan stopped her. He came closer. Rebecca looked back. “Whatever happens… you know… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rebecca said. She grabbed the handle firmly and gave it a solid tug. The door creaked open heavily, releasing a puff of dust and the pungent odor of rot. Against the interior of the door, a crackling piece of paper clung to the metal by a magnet. It resembled the other entries that Rebecca had found, shorter than the log pages and far more personal. She reached up and carefully pulled it closer.

‘Day 89

I’m afraid that T.I.C.K is hitting upon some hard times. Critiques are circulating. Contrary studies have been released faster than I can dispute them. The media is consuming our mission here and regurgitating a monstrosity. I cannot allow this to continue. The best that I can do in these trying times is continue to produce and supply records of stellar results, which get cataloged week after week. This is what allows me to put on a brave face every morning, smiling and keeping my worries pressed down. But no matter how much I provide successful results to the general medical community, the consensus is that my methods are ‘barbaric’ and ‘cruel’. ‘Boarderlining lobotomies’ one article described. I fear the media’s skewed image of my work will lead to its inevitable downfall. Still, I put a smile on.

The staff need work. The patients need their corrective programs. The medical community, the ones being so harshly critical of my work, have already failed them. Only I can bring peace to these patients. It seems the world, maybe God himself, is fighting back against my efforts to do good. Why can’t they see the genius? If only they knew the truth then maybe they wouldn’t mock me so openly, or at all. I could be a giant. I should be, for my findings. But right now, I must focus on the small spectrum. The patients, their families, and the staff that need me.

Peggy is my rock in this challenging era. Always has been. She is a loving wife who does everything she can to support me and Malachi. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s developed a special report with the patients, even going as far as to suggest Malachi have his own correctional program. For what, I cannot say, but it wouldn’t hurt having another patient on file with which to provide positive results, even if I have to fill them in myself. Doing what’s best for T.I.C.K is ultimately doing what’s best for the family. Peggy sees this. She’s always so cheerful, much more than she was before. Despite everything, she makes me the luckiest man alive.

G.E.’

Rebecca let the page fall to the ground. She stepped inside the room, the camera raised to help see in the dark. She scanned the room slowly, the chill of Dylan following her frosting at her back. Rebecca studied the room, trying her best to identify the grotesque shapes within the fuzzy frames on the screen before her. Her hands shook. As she breathed, she sucked in the staleness of the room baking in dirt and smoke for years prior. Rebecca coughed. She raised one hand to her mouth, partially to fight back the urge to spew. The air itself tasted of mold and death. She was so preoccupied garnering her own sensory stability that the sudden slamming of the door behind her forced a sudden shriek from her mouth.

“What the hell?” Dylan said, looking back. Rebecca dropped the camera in her recoil. It hit the ground with a hard crack, the screen instantly going black.

“Shhh-crap!” Rebecca shouted. She dropped to the floor, feeling around with her hands to find it in the abysmal darkness. She brushed away scraps of broken metal, layers of dirt, and what she only hoped was not actually rat droppings. Rebecca grunted as she scrambled to find the camera in the rancid, dusty dark.

“Oh god…” Dylan said, her voice fluttering with deep breaths. “No, no, no, no…” The boy kept repeating the two phrases in a low, gravely tone.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked, trying to get a sense of the room. “What do you see?” Her hand stumbled upon a cold, hard steel chunk. She followed it up blindly to feel it attached to a linked chain.

“I… I can’t… I can’t see any of it…” Dylan said.

“Dude, seriously, you need to work with me,” Rebecca snapped back.

“No, I mean…” Dylan started, tears crackling his voice. “I… I can’t see! I can’t see! Oh god!” The boy was screaming. Rebecca frantically tried to get a feel of the room where she had nothing by which to see. Rebecca followed the chain up to a makeshift pulley system, leading the other end of the chain to a cuff of some sort.

“What’s happening?” Rebecca asked loudly. Dylan only screamed.

“I can’t move!” Dylan shouted. “Oh god, I can’t see!”

“What do you mean?” Rebecca shouted back.

A chill shot through Rebecca like thousands of bullets riddling her nerves. Her breath escaped her. She looked across the room as Dylan shouted through his fit. A faint light hovered before her as a figure. Tall. Inhumanly white. Arms that reached out with dry, frail hair that became tangled against the skeletal form of a woman. Rebecca’s eyes fixed on her. The woman’s jaw unhinged. It swung as she spoke, one meatless hand reaching toward her. Rebecca heard the woman’s horrid voice. It stayed with her, becoming a part of the room just as much as the fetid stench permeating the air. It slipped into her mind like a worm wriggling through her ear. Rebecca found herself frozen in place. She thought about stepping back, falling, screaming, anything to deter the woman who had found her, but there she remained as she would for a torment she had yet to face. The last thing she heard before all went dark was the woman’s voice repeating the same word.

“Pun... ished…”