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IT WAS ONLY four hours later that Alaina woke up again, arms shivering as her lips faded blue. She frowned with her eyes closed, hands rubbing together beneath her blanket to fight for some warmth, but then she heard it. That one, single gust of wind, it blowing through the room and whipping her hair away from her cheeks. There was a breeze, which sent the girl into a panic, because there was no possible way a breeze could be present in their bedroom. She never learned. Anything was possible there.
She sat up with a groan, cold hands stiffly moving up to rub her tired eyes before the cold rush hit her again, but harder. She opened her eyes, the lamp beside her still lighting up the room, which explained why she could clearly see the window illuminated by the bulb - open. The window was open, widely, and seemingly jammed at the top. Her blanket almost flew off the bed as another breeze swept through the room.
Slowly, with a nervous and trembling gulp, she craned her head in the other direction. She almost expected to see that same little girl, the deceased Mullins daughter, standing in the doorway with that creepy doll latched onto it's arm, watching her with a sickening grin. Thankfully, she wasn't, but the door was open. She'd seen Jack lock it, so how was it open?
She quickly climbed out of her bed, leaving her blanket draped over her pale sheets as she crept across the creaking floorboards. She reached for Jack's bed, shaking his sleeping body with urge and fright and utter desperation. It only took a shake or two for him to blink his eyes open with a muffled yawn, the boy slightly sitting up as he examined her petrified face.
Before asking the girl what was bothering her, he tried to find the answer for himself. The first thing he noticed was the window and door, both wide open with darkness lurking on the other side. Even the hallway outside their room was pitch black, nothing visible from their beds beyond the badly-painted doorway.
"Why'd you open them?" He asked with a tilted head, looking back at the standing brunette to try and grasp an understanding, but then as she looked back at him with wide, shaking eyes, it clicked. She hadn't opened them. He hadn't opened them. Who opened the window and the door?
