Waking to a new day, I smiled despite the annoyance at being stuck in this town. It was Sunday, and that meant that I could use Brad's computer to play games.
Pouncing down the stairs, I inhaled the delicious scent of pancakes. The lovely couple at the bed and breakfast were more than happy to feed us last night and even sent us away with a breakfast basket. They searched and found a brochure that used to be given out to new residents. It had the opening hours, which were standard for all businesses.
Our window for grocery shopping was small, and once breakfast was over, Brad was going to do the shopping.
"Parcel arrived for you this morning."
Sliding up to the breakfast bar, I pulled the package closer to me. It was wrapped in brown paper and twine, seemingly soft on top with a hard chunkiness to the bottom.
"From who?"
"The school. Apparently, it's enough to get you through the doors tomorrow. You'll need to see the lady at reception about your sports uniform."
"They cannot be serious. I am not doing sports."
"I get the feeling that you're not going to get a lot of choices."
Huffing loudly, I pulled the twine and opened the package. The uniform was simple. A white shirt with sleeves to the elbow, matched with a deep blue skirt that went to the knees. White socks and that chunkiness were the black shoes. All of the sizes were correct, which made me a little uneasy.
"Did they ask you for my sizes?"
"No, and if they did, I wouldn't know what to tell them."
"Then they are definitely weird."
Brad flipped the pancake onto the plate, making a two-stack of fluffy yumminess. He then turned to put it in front of me. The package of creepiness was pushed aside for the plate of deliciousness. I had to use the syrup sparingly as there was nothing else on offer. It was better than nothing, which was the alternative.
One of Brad's pancakes was already cooking. He had two frypans going. The man clearly liked to do the dishes. When he returned to the stove, the second pancake was slopped into the frypan. I had to give him credit. It was undoubtedly an excellent way to get pancakes onto the plates in an efficient time.
We didn't have a dining table. Life was spent with a meal in front of the television, not the greatest, but it was how we did things. It suited us, and to be perfectly honest, it was a complete improvement on what life used to be like with my mother. She might have made dinner before leaving for the street corner. If she did, there was a limit on what she did for me. I don't recall a time when we had dinner together.
Breakfast was often spent with me in front of the television, watching the morning cartoons, then being yelled at for making too much noise. She was trying to sleep, and I was a nuisance. Lunch was the only meal that we spent together, and that was just the weekends. That is if she didn't decide to hit the street for a little early afternoon trade.
One would think that with all the time she spent on the street, we would have been rolling in money. I have no idea what she did with it. Food was always in the cupboard, but it was always a generic brand, and what was in there was limited.
So, moving in with Brad had been a bit of a shock. Having him around all the time was just as bad and took some time to get used to. I could have said that I was used to being alone, and I might have done that quite regularly, but it was always done with a lot of hesitation. I wanted Brad to be at home with me. I wanted company. A parental figure that guided me through life rather than leaving me alone for hours.
She was not a good mother, but that didn't mean I loved her any less or didn't miss her. I still cried, wishing she was here even if my life had improved infinitely. She was taken from me. I used to fall asleep every night expecting to wake up to the sound of the cops knocking on the door. I never believed it would happen. But it did.
Moving the parcel aside, Brad slid up onto the stool and ate his breakfast. Between us was the meal plan for the next week, including lunches for me, just in case they didn't have a cafeteria like the other schools.
"Well?"
"It works."
We finished our stack of pancakes in silence, looking at the week of meals. Brad liked to try and cook, even if he was mediocre at it. He'd had many successes and a few failures.
I didn't mind. I'd happily take the good and the bad any day.
After breakfast, I stacked the dishes while Brad prepared the shopping list.
"You might want to wash that before you wear it. And because I cooked breakfast, you get to clean up. Have fun."
With a merciless chuckle, the jerk left me to wash up. Before I did that, I took the uniform and made sure it fitted. Unfortunately, it was a perfect fit which did not help the situation. After redressing, I took the clothes to the basement and put them into the wash. They went in together. My aim was that the blue would leak dye and stain the white shirt and socks. Therefore, I will not be able to wear them tomorrow.
Smiling, I turned and left the washing machine to do my dark bidding.
The dishes were done, and I got half an hour of game time before the washing machine started to beep at me. With a skip in my step, I made my way down to the basement. Disappointment soon found me. The damned skirt must have been colorfast.
"How rude," I muttered.
Dumping them in the dryer, I said a silent prayer that the lint filter would catch on fire. Then I retracted that because the whole place would probably burn down.
Returning to the game, I lost track of time until Brad returned home. Pausing it, I ambled out to the car and helped him bring in the groceries.
"Sounds like your clothes are done."
"Yeah,"
"The clothes didn't discolor?"
"No." I grumped.
Brad chuckled, making my frustration worse.
It was warm in the basement because I'd forgotten to open the vent. Pulling the clothes out of the dryer, I thought I heard something thump. Warily I stood, lifting the basket up with me.
"Brad?"
His heavy boots thumped overhead, making his way to the door.
"What's up?"
"I think I heard something."
He walked down the stairs and looked at me and around the area. It wasn't a large area, enough to fit the appliances and a table if I wanted to fold the clothes down here. I wouldn't. It was too stuffy for my liking.
"There's probably a rat in the wall. I wonder if I can get a pest exterminator out on a Sunday."
Brad turned to the stairs, muttering about Sunday rates. I wouldn't worry about that. I'd be more concerned that the sleepy town of Hades wouldn't trade on a Sunday at all. It was surprising that he was able to get groceries.
His heavy boots thumped up the stairs as I drew closer. My heart was racing as I looked at the crack that had grown overnight.
"Please don't call the exterminator." the wall whispered.
I screamed, dropped the basket, and ran up the stairs.
Brad ran down the corridor, fear in his eyes after hearing my blood-curdling scream. Before I could get a word out, Brad gripped my shoulders, searching for whatever it was that had me sobbing hysterically.
"What's wrong? You're not bleeding anywhere."
"There is something in the wall."
"Yeah, I know, the rat."
"No," I quivered, pressing my back to the wall.
Escape was not that far away.
"Something that spoke."
"Yeah, good one."
Brad laughed but stopped when he saw the horror on my face.
"I'm serious. It said, please don't call the exterminator."
"Well, at least it was polite."
His attempt at a joke was met with nothing but tears and snot bubbles.
"Fine," Brad said with a heavy sigh and a roll of his head. "Let's think about this rationally, shall we?"
I nodded though I didn't want to discuss it. I wanted to get out of here. To go back to our last home. It was a new build. There was no chance of there being someone in the wall.
"The wall has been up since this house was built. If someone was trapped between it and the land, they would be very dead or very hungry."
"It could be a camera and a speaker."
"Why would they ask us not to call the exterminator? This doesn't make any sense, Evie."
Brad sighed heavily, leaning on the wall beside me.
"Look, I know it's rough being moved around all the time, but this is the best that I could do while I had to look after you."
"Geez, I'm not incapable. You could go back to your office job."
"The woman from child services made things very clear to me, Evie. I had to take complete responsibility and ensure that you did not take a path,"
"What? Did she say that prostitution was bad and that my mother was a selfish person?"
"Prostitution is illegal, and your mother was selfish. She never reached out to me. I would have helped her wherever possible. How many school days did you miss because she passed out from drug use?"
I shrugged. Was I worried about her? Absolutely.
"Did she ever thank you for it or try to clean herself up? No. What did she do, Evie?"
"Punish me," I whispered.
"The woman from child services saw the bruises. There was one thick file on the two of you. Because of that, I've had them breathing down my neck for the past three years. They barely accept all these moves but understand because I had my employer submit a letter that said I was either in the office, on the road, or out of a job. Look, my point here is that you've got one more year. Once you've finished high school, you can go off to college or university or get a job. I can go back to my office job, and we can go home. So, can we get through this year? It's a nice house, right?"
Again, I shrugged.
"I swear, I heard a voice. Am I a liar?"
"No, but,"
"What, Brad? What could you possibly offer to make me think I'd misheard it?"
He stared for a moment, unable to answer me. Then he turned and walked to the basement door.
"Don't go down there," I begged desperately, tugging on his arm.
"Evie, I'm going to see what's going on. This isn't some horror film that has a creepy guy in the wall. The crack is barely big enough to get a screwdriver into it."
The crazy man continued down the stairs. I remained at the top because I did not want to go down there.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
Brad knocked on the cinder block wall.
"Anyone trapped in there?"
Still nothing.
Brad looked at me, giving me a vague shrug. Leaning down, he picked up the clothes and put them back into the basket, then walked up the stairs. Once he was through, Brad put the basket on the lounge and gave me an uneasy smile.
"I don't know what to say, Evie. I believe you when you say that you heard something, but there were no sounds when I was down there. Maybe someone said something into the ducting. You could have a prankster sitting outside the house whispering into the pipes."
And I'd just given them a great show. Well, that was just perfect. I'm sure it was some jock that would be telling everyone Monday morning, and by the time I got to school, I'd be the laughingstock of the entire place.
Starting school in a new town was the worst. Not only did I have to make a good impression, but I had to navigate corridors and rooms and try not to annoy anyone by getting in their face or taking their seat. Don't look at a guy for too long. His girlfriend could be watching, and I'd make an instant enemy. Add to that the rest of the female population of the school wouldn't trust me because I'd be labeled a boyfriend thief.
"Because you know that the vent is right next to the fence line. Anyone could jump it and have a big laugh at our expense."
"Sure."
Happy with his efforts at dousing the fire, Brad returned to his task. Find an exterminator. Looking through the basket, I realized that he'd left one of the socks downstairs. I couldn't wear any old socks. They had HHS on the sides.
Huffing, I turned and looked at Brad.
"You left a sock downstairs."
"And you are more than capable. There is nothing down there."
"Fine, but if something jumps out and kills me, I will haunt you for the rest of your life."
"I have no doubt that you will," he muttered. "Did you know that there is only one pest controller in this damned town, and his website is atrocious? Can't find any information."
I rolled my eyes, leaving Brad to his annoyed mumblings.
Gripping the rail, I slowly eased my way down the stairs while staring at the crack in the bricks. I was certain my legs would give out at any moment. They wobbled and felt like jelly. My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it easily. The heavy thrum pulsed hard as the anxiety rose.
"Hello?" I whispered.
Nothing came, and I picked up my sock.
"You scared the life out of me, no-one person who is not hiding behind the crack in the wall."
"I'm sorry."