I Need To Leave This House

I Need to Leave This House

I’ve always been a thoughtful person, much more so than Tim, I’m sure. Often lost in the maze of my own thoughts. But ever since stepping into this house I feel like my thoughts have become more cloudy - there’s something I can’t quite put my finger on. Something off. Something wrong. I can't focus on anything. Like I can't tell where I am, or when I am. But one thing I am assured of is that the moment I took my first step through the door, a single thought overtook everything else:

I Need To Leave This House.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Tim said as he dropped his bags. He sighed happily and looked around, taking the moment in. I’m not quite sure what he was looking at to evoke such a carefree reaction; looking around the only thing of note, other than the surprising scale of the long hallways and open living room and kitchen, was the wallpaper that appeared to be peeling off, revealing the layers of the stained old oak that splintered off in various directions, almost like a scar.

“I mean, it could do with some touch-ups, sure,” Tim noted in a mundane voice. 

“Thinking about it, I suppose the furniture is also somewhat dated.”

He wasn’t wrong there, the furniture felt dated, like the same furniture my parents would collect when I was younger. 

They poured so much time into collecting furniture. It was a thing I didn't really question at the time, but as I got older it's hard to say that I didn't find strange. Leather, wood, brick, metal, whatever they could get their hands on… the more unique the better. And they would just leave them sporadically placed throughout the house. I never liked that house. I wanted to leave the moment I got the chance. And that moment came when I ran away and met Tim, he offered me an escape, and I took it as soon as I could. I felt I had to. He would appreciate me. But my regrets started building upon looking at this house and its drab colour scheme, its damp floor, its mouldy carpets, its large maze-like hallways where cold air creeps through… 

“Yes,” I breathed with melancholy.

“Sure, it could do with some touchups. I mean…” Tim walked into the centre of the room and blew heavily on a dusty table. He coughed and sputtered as a thick black cloud overtook the room. He continued to cough for 5 minutes. Just continuously coughing, his voice horse and raspy and thick. The cloud dispersed and floated into the back of the hallway until it began to sink deeper and deeper into the floorboards. I swear something moved within them. 

"It's nice," Tim said as he sat on the large brown leather chair in the centre of the room. All the other chairs were angled to face it. The chairs point in no particular direction, they simply look ahead into the copious amounts of nothing. 

"Want to sit down? Honey." 

I'd rather not, something is unnerving about being unable to change the direction you face, only being able to look at one chair, one man, against your will. But it's either that or return home. 

"Sure," I said, as a smile lazily grew on my face. It quickly dropped as I sat down. 

Tim took a heavy breath.

"Well!" He slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair and rubbed his paws together. They're dry and rough.

I Need To Leave This House. 

"What say we put our bags in our bedroom? Honey." 

Right, the bags, I had almost forgotten. I'd brought quite a few, which Tim graciously helped carry into the house for me. He, on the other hand, only brought one. He carried my bags for a long time, all the way up to the house. I'm thankful for that, at least. 

I dreamily walked through the hallway, noting the rough walls and all of its bumps and cracks that line them and twist and tangle like a maze. Painted portraits of old residents of the house line the walls, all worn with time - the brush strokes scattered throughout the canvas as though thrown about in a panic and the colour turning an unsightly grey. All these features gave the paintings… life. But the people depicted within them, something seems wrong about them, I couldn’t quite focus on their faces, there’s something similar between them all. They’re all… women? I was on the verge of making it out when suddenly an arm grabbed me and pulled me into the bedroom. 

"You okay?" Tim chuckled casually. 

"Yes," I felt the words escape my lips. I didn't feel okay.

I Need To Leave This House. 

"This house feels so big," Tim continued to laugh, the occasional cough interpreting his glee. "You could get lost in here if you're not careful". 

He walked into the centre of the bedroom. It's spacious but aside from the double bed placed within its middle, it was baren. I watched him closely, as he looked around the room in awe, proud of owning all the bare space. His eyes wandered upwards, catching something in the ceiling. 

"Would you look at that!" he cheered with delight, "this house has all sorts of secrets." but my eyes never move away from Tim. I follow as he walks to the corner of the room and jumps up, hitting the ceiling, revealing a hatch that leads upwards. 

"Could be the attic" he murmured under his breath, quietly. Did we climb up to the top floor somehow? 

He turned to me, an infectious smile emanated from his face. 

"Want to go look?" 

I don't. I turned my head to look towards the door. It's open. Nothing is behind it but darkness. Something oozed from within. 

I Need To Leave This House. 

"Sure," I say within a daze. 

The attic was large and dark, except for the wide circular window located at its end. I couldn’t make out any other details other than that, as I became completely in awe of the moonlit sky just outside the walls. 

“Be careful, Honey,” Tim laughed. 

I stepped closer, in a trance, towards the light which had ahold of me.

Tim’s voice turned serious. Angry. 

“Be careful. Honey. Don’t go wandering anywhere without me. This house is so big.”

The moonlight shines through the glass window, I feel enraptured within the light that blooms around me. Soft, blue, chilling, freeing. For the briefest moments, I feel… awake.

"Don’t go wandering within the house, honey. Don’t get lost now. You don’t want to be lost, do you? Don’t you love our house? Don't you love it?" I hear a muffled voice say in the distance. My heavy breaths became deafening, blocking out the voices clattering within my mind. 

"No," I say plainly. 

All of a sudden a feeling overcame me. Fear. 

I Need To Leave This House. 

I turn around to escape the attic, running straight into a web. Was this always here? Dolls with missing eyes caught within the sticky bags of slime turn their heads to face me. Are those even dolls? 

I Need To Leave This House. 

As I clambered out of the room, a brief thought entered my mind. "Where did Tim go?". Suddenly a thick sting and a powerful heat overtaking my senses as I fall down the hatch, slamming my head against the floorboards. My vision blurred, my ears ringing, I can barely make out what I'm looking at. 

I Need To Leave This House. 

My eyes open wide. I'm in the bedroom. 

My eyes drift slowly to the corner of the room, something jitters and grunts. My breaths create a smoke of fog, impeding my view. It lets out a moan like it’s in pain, and struggles for small gasps of air like its choking. Its skin was cold and blue like ice, but its hands were glowing with pain. Thick breaths. Heavy grunts. I don’t like how it looks. I don’t want to be in here. I’m cold.

“Honey?” I ask, creeping towards it. It jitters in surprise… but then it calms. 

With a vacant look in its eyes, he turns towards me, a smile stretched across his jaw. Wide and vacant. Darkness.

“Honey” it groans like a rusty pipe, “Isn’t this place wonderful?”

I put my hand towards my mouth to gasp. I want to scream.

“It’s wonderful,” I hear a voice say. My mouth is wide open, my jaw unhinged. My smile gaping. “I love this place.”

Tears stream down my eyes, flowing into my smile. I begin to choke on them.

I Need To Leave This House.

The door slams. What was I doing? The cold wind blows against my face, averting my gaze from the piles of ash and glass and mud strewn across the ground. I’m in the hallway. In the distance, I hear what sounds like screams of women, their cries of suffering. My legs move before I am even aware of it, I’m running, scrambling to get away, as fast as I can. These halls seem endless. The paintings, the women within them, they all cry out in pain. Trapped. I see the door. I’m so close. I can see the light within it. I trip and fall to the ground. The door is just within my grasp.

“Honey, this house is great. Let’s stay here. Sure, it could do with some touchups. But we could make it work. We could make it work. We could make it work. We could…” the voice groaned on and on, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, like a hinge that needs oiling. Legs crawl across the floor: long, thick, hairy. The floorboards snap into pieces as it clampers along the ground. “Krow ti ekam dlouc ew” echoed the voice. The only thing illuminating the darkness of the house was pairs of red glowing orbs. The dolls faces, an eerie smile stuck onto them. I can’t move my body. The house bellows with a thick and heavy screech. I can’t hear myself think. It climbs onto the ceiling, struggling against itself to get closer and closer, its sacks of fat jiggle and pulse. I feel like I want to get closer. Its jaw opens wide. I want to live here forever. I take a step forwards, but then the floor beneath me snaps and I fall backwards, snapping me from my delusion. I Need To Leave This House. I Need To Leave This House. I Need To Leave This House. The voices of many women scream within my mind.

You Need To Leave This House.

I turn and grab the door handle and push forwards with all my effort.

I fall outside, the bright sun shines on my face. The darkness swept away. I look behind me; all that awaits me is a blank blue sky. “Maybe I should go back home,” says a voice within my head. My voice.