Page 16 of Strangled
It sounds bizarre, even to my own ears. And that’s probably not even what happened. The guy’s voice must have just sounded different in the dark stillness of the room. It had to have been something other than what I’m thinking.
“I don’t know!” I yell over the noise. She shrugs and lifts her drink. I give her a weak smile that I’m sure she can’t even see through the haze and snag my phone off her table and shove it in my pocket.
“Where’s Cade?” I nudge her shoulder. She points into the sea of bodies rolling to the beat. It’s chaotic down there, so finding them would be next to impossible—not that I want to, anyway. As long as Iris knows where they are, that’s good enough for me.
“Gonna go smoke,” I lean in and shout near her ear, so she doesn’t come looking for me. She shoots me a thumbs up and places her headphones back against her ears, the song changing once more.
I keep along the wall as I make my escape from my own party, my phone burning a hole in my pocket. The stairs feel more unstable than ever as I make my way up, veering around people lining the rails.
I mistakenly thought there would be less people up here, but I should have known. Once I round the corner, I’m caught in a swarm. It cannot have been more than an hour since I was up here… but within that time, drunk-fueled people have found their way up and into the murder room.
So much for the fucking lock.
My hands clench at my sides as I take in the bodies piling out of the door and congregating in the wide hall. I shoulder past people until I reach the door frame. Whispers and slurred murmurs float around the static-charged air.
“Everybody out!” I shout, my voice barely audible over the cluster of noise. When nobody moves, I shove the rest of the way through, breaking through the throng. I slam my hand against the wall, ignoring the strike of stinging pin needles. “Fuckingout!”
Groans and mumbles assemble, but they slowly start piling out, except for the drunken few leaning against the back wall. I watch everyone disperse, my skin crawling, prickling with awareness.
Minutes later, it’s just me and three inebriated jackasses. I clutch the doorframe, my fingers curling around the brittle wood. I lower my shoulder and sweep my arm out. “Come on.”
The three of them share a look before stumbling off the wall. “What makes you think we’re going to listen to you?”
“Don’t be a fucking dick. This isn’t some attraction you can visit at your leisure. This ismyfuckin’ house, so if I say get out, well—" I take a step toward them, my jaw clenching as the alcohol in my gut heats to an uncomfortable level. The dude to the right clenches his fist, and I hold my breath, preparing myself for a fight.
A fight I don’t even want, that I’m too drunk to be a part of, but I guess this is what I deserve after bringing all of these people here. The majority of them, I don’t even know. They have to be from a couple of towns over because there’s no way everyone here is from my small-populated town.
The room is much too dark for the exposure of moonlight gleaming in through the smeared glass. I squint my eyes, taking another step. My heart is hammering away in my throat, hindering my breathing.
“You’re really gonna try to take on all of us?” the middle one slurs, almost tripping over a ridge in the warped wood as he steps. He’s just a couple of feet away from the stains on the floor—the exact place their corpses sat, rotting.
Just as I open my mouth, my ears ringing, hands slick from sweat, a deafening growl resounds throughout the room, effectively cutting off the small squeak I emit unwittingly. My eyes fly open in unnerved shock.
A slow, methodicaltap, tap, tap,follows the vibrations of the growl still lingering in the room. It never sounds in the same place twice, the clangor increasing in volume with every thump.
“W-what the fuck?” one of them breathes out, their tone high-pitched and words surprisingly enunciated.
Undiluted fear is enough to sober anyone up.
For the first time since I started hearing the strange noises in this house, I find myself relaxing in their presence instead of crawling out of my skin. Don’t get me wrong, I’m unsettled because this isn’tright. It’s not normal.But right now, I couldn’t give a fuck less about right and normal.
What I care about are the three dick heads scurrying out of the room like their asses are on fire. Once the door slams shut, I sag against the wall, sliding against it until I land on my ass. The tapping resumes in a legato rhythm, lulling me into a false sense of security.
I should be out of my mind with panic. Someone is here, in the fuckingwalls—mere feet away from me.
But all I am is grateful—for some sick, fucked up reason.
I feel protected.
Eventually, the sound cuts off, leaving me in ringing silence. I take a deep breath, my eyes closing briefly as I try to work around what just happened, but the only thing on my mind is my phone. More so, what I can find on it.
I pull up my browser and search for the town’s online newspaper—the Sanseph Journal. Once my phone finally loads, I pull up the digital archives and type “Marius” in the search box.
I stare at the dotted circle as it spins, my shoulders hunched as I curl in around my phone. My ears strain, listening for the distinct tapping of my… whoever it is. Clicking on the first of several articles to pop up, I read every line, every word written about this house.
It doesn’t take me as long as it should, but that’s because there isn’t much written about it that I didn’t already know. There’s plenty about the discovered bodies, but the rest is merely speculation.
Any mention of the Marius’s son is brief, and it’s highlighted multiple times that it’s all conjecture—and to use the information how you will.
