House Down the Hill, Part 5

That night, the screaming wakes me again. I double over, covering my ears, trying to ignore it. When that doesn’t work, I recreate my fort and retreat there. There are other noises mixed in with the screams tonight. Slamming doors, chains being dragged, the loud revving of a chain saw. All of it only serves to make the voice more shrill and panicked.

I call the Student Advisor on Duty, my hand shaking so much I almost select the wrong contact. The phone is pressed hard to my ear so I can hear the ringing on the other end.

“Hi. This is the CGR Duty Phone, how may I help you?” a tired but perky voice says on the other end.

“I’m in Campbell Apartments number 4 and I keep hearing screaming.”

“Screaming? Do you know where it’s coming from?” I can hear the guy on the other side moving around and the jingle of keys.

“I think it’s coming from that house.”

“What house?”

“The one next door. The creepy looking one.” The screams subside a moment and I hold my breath, hoping that would be all for tonight.

“Oh God! Oh God! Somebody help me! Help! Somebody help!” I jump and bump my head on the bottom of the bed.

“Please hurry, someone’s calling for help now,” I say, almost in tears. “Please.”

“I’ll be right over,” he says, a little more immediacy in his tone.

The words become intermingled in the shrill screams. Across the room, I can see Catherine still soundly asleep in her bed and I envy her. I envy her and am appalled at the same time. How can she not hear this?

Just as quickly as the screaming began, it stops. My mind instantly fills with images of torture and death. I have no idea what is going on, but I only hope it stops. That someone is able to do something and it stops.

There’s a knock at the door. I scramble from my hiding place, relieved the SA has finally arrived, but stop dead as I turn the corner. Stepping back a few feet, I cover my mouth, muffling the scream dying to escape my throat. An angular shadow takes up the window behind the screen. It knocks again, more insistent, and is breathing so loudly I clamp my hand tighter over my mouth to mute my cries. The shadow pounds on the door and starts rattling the door handle.

My heart is racing as I run to shake Catherine awake, shushing her as she comes to, mumbling complaints. I’m practically hysterical at this point. I can hear the pounding and rattling still and I fear the next sound will be the glass shattering. “What’s going—?”

“Shhh-shh-shh.” I’m shaking so much my voice is unsteady.

The pounding stops. I pull Catherine’s hand, trying to lead her to my little fort of safety. Fear and worry are etched across her face. There’s more knocking at the door, this time more polite. Catherine looks at me a moment before slipping from bed and heading out of the room.

“No, don’t answer that,” I whisper after her. “Don’t answer that. Catherine, don’t. Please don’t.”

A moment later I hear the door open.