Nope.
Despite the violent shivers charging up and down her legs, Arielle ran. Bolted past the door, turned right, scrammed halfway down the balcony corridor before realizing she'd hit a dead-end—the stairs were the other way.
With how her insides had liquefied and her bladder struggled to contain her fear, she had a hard time reversing her strides and hurrying the other way. And she was still unsure how she'd actually get out, since the door was locked. But she'd have to figure that out one step at a time; her priority was to get down the stairs.
But when she arrived at the banister, reaching out to grab it, a whooshing breeze jammed into her. It shoved her away, towards the room she'd exited.
"Nope, nope, nope," she yelled as she worked to swerve past the breeze—or under or through, she had no clue—and race down the stairs. But again it threw her off.
Groaning, holding in the urge to claw at the air in the hopes of somehow moving this thing out of her path, it became apparent she'd have to wait for Penny to be distracted by something or someone else before she'd get a chance to rush downstairs.
"Fine, fine! Get away from me!" She ducked and gathered the last remnants of her strength to hustle to the room by the stairs and squeeze inside.
She slammed the door behind her, wheezing, her lungs so tight and painful she saw black dots and stars forming before her. Her vision became so blurry shadowy shapes swirled in her eyes.
"Shit, shit, shit." This dwelling, like the former, was bare. Its windows allowed in moonlight, but it didn't make the area any less uncomfortable. A slitted, closet-like door loomed ahead of her, and on some weird whim she couldn't understand, she raced to it, heaved it open, and hid inside the tiny space.
A plastic hanger dangled from the rusty rack above, and debris she couldn't identify covered the floor. But she had no strength to remain standing any longer. So she fell into a huddle, her back pressed against the wall, her nose sliding between her knees. Her breaths came out foggy, glacial, and she couldn't stop her teeth from clattering.
Fuck.
If this was still a dream, it had turned into something she hoped to forget when she woke. Too real, too intense, too troubling.
Floorboards creaked somewhere ahead—not in the room, but close, possibly on the main landing, near the balcony. Refraining from gasping, Arielle stuffed her mouth against her knees and muffled her whistling breaths.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Now would have been a great time to wake up, to understand it was another nightmare, albeit gloomily realistic. Every sensation she experienced knotted in her guts and twisted them, pulled at them, banged at the linings of her stomach. Seething, she waited for the nearby squeaking noise to cease, and she redressed herself and pinched her forearm.
Wake up... please, wake up.
Once, twice, three times for good measure—but nothing happened. She didn't open her eyes to find herself lounging in a bed, screaming, Stella atop an adjacent mattress staring at her in concern. Nor did she experience any relief, any lessening tension, any sense that everything would be okay.
Because this house, the spirit tormenting her, the breezes and creaks and creepy messages on mirrors—they were happening. For real.
Penny...
Penny brought her here and seemed adamant on making her lose her wits.
For the millionth time that night, she chided herself for being such an idiot, for not listening to Stella's warnings. Penny was a diabolical ghost; she had malicious intent from the start, and Stella knew it. But Arielle... ignored her and chose to pursue her mission, nonetheless. To press onward, to get answers, to locate and save Jade from whatever limbo-like hell she was stuck in, and to understand why everyone she loved had to die.
All her actions in the past few weeks culminated in dreadful question marks floating above her head. And they grew bigger and bigger by the second, causing her fears to amplify, intensify. Because now, she was in danger of death, not those she cherished.
They're all gone... and I'm the only one left.
She was in peril, on her own and unsure how to proceed. Yet she wandered closer and closer to getting answers about the afterlife the way Penny predicted and intended; you must die to discover it.
I don't want to die. I'm not ready to die.
Every time she released oxygen from her mouth, it clouded around her, as if she stood outside in below freezing temperatures. Chills undulated in all directions on her spine, slithering beneath her skin and coating her bones in ice. And the prickling sensations nipping at her neck, her wrists, even her toes, only worsened her convulsions as she did her best to swallow her dread.
She was doomed. Locked in an abandoned house, in the middle of a forest who-knew-where, trapped with a malevolent specter whose intentions were unclear?
Sure, yeah, I'll get out of this alive.
She was well-acquainted with death; but not her own. She'd never been so close to it, never had fear warp her mind in such ways. Prodding at her tauntingly, licking its lips in preparation to devour her. She wasn't anxious by nature—though she always imagined the worst-case scenarios—but she'd never fallen this deep.
And she caused it. By being too stubborn, by convincing herself she wasn't afraid. That she'd locate Jade with or without Stella's help, that she'd get closure and tell her best friend that she loved her. As in love-loved her.
She heard Stella's screeching on repeat in her head.
"You're a moron, Ari. Look at what you've done! Why didn't you go home?"
And then Jade, tutting, pursing those beautifully full lips of hers.
"Why did you put yourself in this situation? Stella knows spirits, I'm well-versed in the shows, the terminology. But you were only along for the ride, sweetie. You had no business digging into this shit."
She shuddered. Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie echoed in her skull, first in Jade's voice, then morphing into some creepy, croaky, cruel timbre. It crawled through her brain and provoked more chills, sweeping them up and down her arms and legs. And it was so real, so palpable, so outside her head.
She should have never taken off from the hotel. Never driven in such a state of sorrow and despair. Never left her damn phone in the damn car.
And the damn ghost blocked her, wouldn't let her down the stairs, and somehow kept the front door sealed.
But what if she plowed through Penny's windy barrier? What if she made it down there, found something to shove into the door, force it open, or something to pick the lock with—
Who the fuck am I kidding?
This wasn't a movie. Not some silly TV show or video-game where the main character had all sorts of plot hacks and items that appeared to her magically, when in need. She'd find nothing in this house. No knives or lock-picks or screwdrivers or baseball bats—nothing.
Her last resort would be the kitchen, but to get there... she'd still have to leave the safe confines of the closet. She'd have to venture out where Penny could reach her, push her, set her frigid ghost hands on her neck and whisper and write on mirrors—
No.
She couldn't end up like this. Suffocating in a tiny closet because she'd been irresponsible, stupid, hadn't been more careful? If she were in a movie, she'd be laughing at herself. The girl who ran and hid instead of facing her fears and escaping. The one who waited for death to strike her.
Ghosts can't kill.
The more she saw the words flashing in her mind, the more she doubted them. This ghost had prevented her from burning and drowning a Ouija board. It had plagued her at a Lighthouse, threw letter pieces in her face, followed her to a woods bordering a freeway. It had guided her to an old, squeaking house, and scribbled half-sentences on not one, but two mirrors. And it had her panting in trepidation and counting down the minutes until she perished.
No, no... I'm not dying tonight.
She needed something. Something to pry the lock open, something to distract Penny, something to give her an ounce of hope that she'd survive.
Moving carefully to avoid any sounds that might draw the specter to her, she touched the surrounding floor, the debris she sat atop. She sliced her finger on a sharp edge of blank paper, picked up what might have been a massive dead spider, and grabbed clumps of something feeling like hair.
With only tiny beams of moonlight streaming through the slits in the wardrobe door, she had little means to see anything else. And after a few minutes, and her breaths speeding up and fogging the compact space, she realized she had no choice.
Unarmed, then.
Her fingertip bled, more than it should for a small paper-cut. She watched the blood as it trickled out, shiny and dark, swirling around her finger as it coated her skin.
Blood.
It wasn't a weapon, nor would it help her break the front door lock—but it might do to leave a message for Penny's next victim. Or something to say to those who'd discover her rotting corpse in a few months' time, if she didn't escape.
Wow, gloomy much?
Before she could stop herself, she was writing on the wall. Using her blood as ink, desperate to warn any other innocent person that Penny brought here to torture and terrify.
Ghosts are real
She winced, the cut stinging as she passed the tip of her finger along the paint-chipped wall.
But they can't KILL
The last L smeared a bit as she tried to make it more legible. She was about to suck on her finger to halt the bleeding when she decided she had one more thing to say.
Get out, fast
Slurping up the coppery taste and grimacing, she again wished she had her phone. To call the cops, an ambulance, a horde of paranormal investigators, the press, the freaking president.
Ghosts are fucking real, and they're fucking crazy.
She'd cried so much already that thinking of Stella and Jade didn't trigger her tears anymore. All her energy had evaporated the moment she entered the house; she felt drained. Empty. Alone.
What do I do now?
She'd left her message, she'd pep-talked herself enough to be persuaded to make a break for it. To attempt something reckless, to get the hell out of this haunted home. But... she still needed a push.
Placing her bruised hands on the floor, she hauled up to a crouch, and the slit, to peer out into the room. All seemed immobile, dead, quiet; if Penny knew where she hid or cared to search for her, she didn't manifest herself.
Is she attached to the mirrors?
Her eyes widened as she tipped away from the door.
The mirrors! Yes!
If she broke one—or both—she'd have shards. Weapons. Maybe sharp enough to fiddle with the downstairs lock and open the front door.
A whiff of vanilla seeped into her nose. And whether or not she imagined it, the scent reminded her of Jade, and infused her with courage, with the force she'd need to save herself.
Ghosts can't kill... but they can make you lose your wits.
One palm pressed to the door, ready to push it, she stilled. A wailing noise reverberated throughout the room, fluttering under the threshold, swarming her with dread.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."
She clapped her hands over her ears, cringing, her eardrums ringing in agony.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeee... Peeeeeeeeeennyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..."
"What the—" she removed her hands and though the scream pierced every nerve in her cranium, she listened, biting her lip, waiting. Because it sounded a lot like it was saying Penny, drawn out, whimpering, painful.
Oh, how she wished she'd paid more attention to Jade's rambling about this show or that. About what Zak would do, what equipment worked best, and what was rigged. How she wished she'd been able to get that stupid loan and buy the crap they needed. Because then, maybe she wouldn't be so at a loss here, stuck in a closet while some freaked out, hyped up demonic ghost howled and haunted her. And oh, how she wished she'd followed Stella home the second she told her Penny was a spirit she'd do best to steer clear of.
And she had steered clear, she'd tried... but Penny wanted Arielle. Wanted to talk, tell her truths, and horrify her.
No. I won't let her bully me!
Sucking in a breath of stale, stuffy air, she kicked the closet open and hurried to the bedroom door, wrenched it from the door-frame, and unleashed a yelp louder than Penny's.
"I am getting the fuck out of here, you bitch! And you can't stop me!"