Screams In The House

“They say screaming is actually good for you.”

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s true. There’s something new called Scream Therapy. Supposedly screaming helps to release endorphins.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she continued, optimistic that he seemed interested. “In fact, there’s a theory that screaming can help those who have experienced trauma in their lives, even in childhood.”

“Well, thankfully we don’t have to worry about that.” He grabbed her hand smiling at her. “Come on, let’s get on line. Hopefully it’s moving fast.”

They walked past the carousel with horses bobbing up and down, mothers trying not to hover, holding poles next to their children. Her heart pounded as her favorite haunted house came into view with its giant gaping mouth as the entrance. She’d been going there for years but this time was different. Cautiously optimistic about her new relationship with Victor, she hoped he would be the one to finally open up to.

***

“Enter at your own risk. Remember, you signed up for this.” That was a creepy thing to say, she thought, as she handed the old man her ticket and entered the darkness.

The wide openness that she had expected from previous years was instead a series of tight corridors snaking their way to and fro. The spatial arrangement was disorienting, a classic trick that made one feel unsettled and uncomfortable. Her mind was trying to work it out, focusing on her footing when the mechanical arms jolted out of nowhere and caught her off guard releasing her first scream. She joined Victor in laughter as the familiar adrenaline of the scare started coursing through her body.

Blindly holding her arms out in front, her mind brought back another dark hallway with a little girl sneaking out of her room thirsty for a glass of milk to help her sleep. Silently pouring in the light of the refrigerator she prayed no one would hear her, that her sister would not wake up. The silence of the house was a relief.

The floor beneath her suddenly changed from solid to questionable. She gasped while her stomach lurched.  A few more tentative steps until she realized she was walking on foam pieces from the local craft store placed haphazardly about. She thought back to her gymnastics classes tumbling on the foam floor then turning to look for approval through the waiting room window. More times than not her mother looked anxious and unsmiling, her attention off to the side keeping an eye on her sister rather than her.

Dim light filtered in as they exited the maze finding themselves in the cemetery, the tombstones funny rather than macabre giving a short reprieve from the horror of both past and present. “I told you I was sick,” Victor read, laughing. That tombstone inevitably showed up somewhere in the display year after year. They walked around laughing at the plastic hands placed strategically in the piles of dirt next to the graves. “Good stuff,” he said, smiling at her.

“Oh, look, this is new.” She was excited to discover the fun house mirrors scattered about with people laughing, clustered in groups. “This is awesome!”

They stood at the first mirror seeing their reflections short and stout. Feeling silly they swayed back and forth watching their images morph with every move. “Woooaaahhhhh,” they exaggerated their voices to match the distortion. 

Laughter pumped from the speakers, maniacal fun house laughter, mixed and mingled with the scene playing out in front of her. She felt dizzy as if the room had begun to tilt and spin around her like a warped carousel of horses.

Echoes of past laughter coming from the bedroom at the end of the hallway where her sister was alone with the door closed. Devices had been taken away as punishment before the realization settled in that she was not misbehaving. A memory from long ago bringing with it both fear and sadness from a time when everything had started to change.

“This one is hilarious, tiny head and gigantic body.” Victor was checking himself out in the next mirror. Moving slightly, he laughed as the proportions changed. “Now I’m an alien!” He leaned forward, his eyes growing large like saucers. “Take me to your leader.” He reached out, pulling her into the reflection. 

She stared at those giant unrecognizable eyes gawking back at her, then saw all those eyes looking at her in the patient’s day room while she squirmed in her seat. She promised to be there for her sister, to be the strong one, the brave one. Inwardly she had tried to shrink away into nothingness, pulling her oversized hoodie closer around her. Blinking, she was back at the mirror, Victor’s face again morphed, this time tiny little eyes looking back from far away.

As if in a trance she was led by Victor through the hall of curtained off scenes depicting classic stories. Making the appropriate “oohs” and “ahhs”, she was lost in memories of the less well-known horror story of her own past. Hardly seeing the Headless Horseman or Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, she saw instead two little girls playing with dolls and having tea parties. Flash forward to teenagers sharing cute outfits and sitting in front of the mirror with hair sprays and makeup trying to perfect their look. Eventually those cute outfits sat untouched while the same clothes were worn day after day. The once shiny hair became dirty and lifeless, then clumps of hair found on the bathroom floor after being cut off rather than dealt with.

Each one of those terrifying changes became a piece missing from the picture of health and instead forming the puzzle of illness.

With each mechanical jolt thrust in her direction she screamed. At every actor popping out from the shadows she screamed. In reaction to all the blasts of forced air shot out at the crowd she screamed.

She screamed for the little girls growing up in their own house of horrors.

She screamed for her sister who, unlike herself, did not buy a ticket to the haunted house, did not “sign up for it” as the old man on the stool had told them upon entering. 

She screamed for herself, the little girl who wasn’t allowed to scream once upon a time.

Worst of all she screamed for those who would never find the exit of the not-so-fun house as they lived in the blurred reality of the mentally ill.   

***

“We survived our first haunted house together. It wasn’t too scary, was it?” Victor teased her.

She laughed, glad to be out in the sunshine feeling the gentle breeze on her skin. She took his hand, swinging his arm slightly as they walked together. “It was plenty scary, trust me.”