House Down the Hill, Part 6

 “Suze,” Catherine calls kindly. “Did you call the duty phone?”

I crawl out from under my bed and slowly creep into the living room, peeping around the corner. The man standing there is vaguely familiar, and nowhere nearly as tall or angular as the shadow I had seen. He has a kind face though it is currently etched with concern. A woman is entering behind him; I don’t recognize her, though she’s shorter than him. Both of them are in pajamas and look a little less than awake.

Catherine closes the door behind them as the man asks, “You called about screaming?”

I nod and Catherine stares at me. “It woke me up. Really loud, shrill screaming.” I’m holding onto the wall, still hiding behind the corner, but it doesn’t help steady me any; if anything, I’m shaking more violently now, wondering where the shadow disappeared to and if they’ve seen it.

“You said something about calling for help, too.”

“Yes. The screaming stopped when I called you…and then it started again, but someone was crying for help. They-they sounded terrified.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” the woman suggests. “It’s ok,” she insists.

Cautiously, afraid the shadow will return any second, I move towards the couch in the opposite corner. Catherine brings me a glass of water and sits beside me, rubbing my back.

“You said it was coming from down the hill?” he asks.

I nod, taking another swallow of water. “This isn’t the first time, either.”

“How long have you been hearing screaming?”

“The past couple nights. Tonight was the first time someone was screaming anything coherent.”

The man and woman nod. Catherine squeezes my hand and offers me a tissue. “Something else happened, though,” she says to me. “Why didn’t you want me to answer the door, Suze?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. It sounds crazy, even in my own head, but maybe it isn’t. If they had seen it retreating, they would know I’m not losing it.

“Something was at the door. It was banging so loudly. I was scared it was going to break in.”

They look at each other and the woman leans forward. “We didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. We didn’t hear anything either.”

“The screaming stopped before the banging.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just a nightmare?” she asks kindly.

I shake my head. “I was wide awake.”

“I don’t know how to explain what you heard and saw,” she says, choosing her words carefully. I suppose they train them in those sorts of things. “No one else has complained about screaming or loud noises out here the past couple nights. And the house you’re hearing them come from is condemned. It’s unsafe to enter. Mostly due to termite damage. But there’s nothing in that house.”

“You don’t know what I heard.”

She nods, her lips pressed as though biting back what she really wanted to say. “No, I don’t know what you heard. Because of that, I can’t do much for you right now, especially as the house is condemned and I’m not permitted to search it.”

There’s a harsh rapping on the door and I jump, splashing some of the water from the glass. Catherine takes it and sets it on the counter as the woman stands up to answer the door. One of the officers from the Department of Public Safety steps in and speaks quietly with her. I can make out some mention of the house down the hill and loud noises. The officer makes some remark about ghost stories and demolition. The woman nods and closes the door behind the officer, wishing him a goodnight.

“Why did he go?” I inquire as she sits back down.

“There isn’t anything we can do tonight. He’s going to check out the house more regularly on rounds and see if there’s anything suspicious going on. But we really can’t do much more right now.”

“What about what I heard?”

“If you’d like, we can set up a time to talk tomorrow and see if we can’t do something to make you feel better,” she suggests.

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

I shake my head and sit back on the couch. They aren’t going to do anything. Stupid bureaucracy has their hands tied and they can’t do anything, except offer me a counseling session or two and diagnose me as something I’m not. I’m fat and find my body absolutely disgusting, but I’m not crazy.

“Thank you for coming out. I’m sorry I woke you up,” I say, staring down at my hands.

Catherine sees them out, having some conversation I don’t stick around to hear. I grab my laptop and earbuds again and barricade myself in the fort beneath my bed. When Catherine comes in, I ignore her, turning the volume on my laptop up until she finally surrenders and crawls back under her blankets. A sinking feeling in my stomach tells me she thinks I’m going crazy and the screaming will continue anew the next night only to make me seem more so.

The house is taunting me. I’m not sure what I ever did to it other than not cross the street to pass it; whatever it is, that place has it in for me. If no one else is going to do something about it, I suppose that leaves me.