Chapter 8

Anderson claps were the only sound in the room. “I'm impressed at how you've managed the situation. I thought we'd have to retrieve your body lifeless and cold. But, you've proven resourceful.” Anderson said. 

Cyrus for the better part of himself ignored Anderson and stalked off to the bathroom. Inside, he locked the door and opened the basin's tap. He scoped a mouthful into his mouth and rinsed. He expected to see cut marks that usually remained on his tongue after an act like this when he opened his mouth in the mirror but there was nothing. It was spotless. If he had not rinsed the blood off himself he wouldn't believe it. 

“Hey, come on out here! There's no window to escape in that room.” Anderson called. 

Cyrus frowned. He proceeded to wash his face and step out. Anderson's men gave way for his path, their gun pointed downward as they watched him with extreme caution. With a raised eyebrow he looked around and spotted a laptop on the bed stand that showed the live footage of the other room. 

Cyrus sighed and settled beside Anderson.

“How?” He asked. For them to set up meant they knew where he was going and just waited. 

Anderson pointed at Selene. Cyrus glared at her. She blew a kiss in return.

Cyrus's head recoiled. He felt the impact of a web-like force hit his face. The world around him spinned twice and he dropped to the ground. Faintly, he could hear Anderson's voice. 

“Would you tell me the reason behind your futile attempt at escaping ?” Anderson asked. 

Cyrus snared as his eyes closed. 

A series of bumps, the impact of tyres against the speed blocks on the road, woke him. He scented the smell of pure leather and brought his hands to hold his head. It ached and churned. He groaned as his eyes adjusted to the car's interior. He saw buildings and streetlights pass by; the speed at which they passed made his body shiver. Anderson sat to his left with Selene sitted in front, at the passenger side. 

He knew at the sight of them that they were returning to the hotel, his head felt like one would with an extreme hangover. Hazy and clouded. A repulsive dread settled over him at the thought of the room. He reached for his side of the door with a shaking hand. It was better to just roll out of a moving car than face whatever was at the hotel. 

“How about you take a look at this before you jump out?“ Anderson said. He produced a laptop and showed Cyrus the screen. In it a lady and a boy of two years ran around; the lady lifted the boy and spinned. Both of them giggling. 

Cyrus hand squeezed the door frame. “Leave my child out of this!” He almost screamed. 

“I would but it has gotten to my notice that there's something strange going on in the town they live in, it…” 

Anderson trailed off because Cyrus strong hands were around him neck, squeezing tight. “Where?” 

“I'd book you… on the next flight if you'd get us… what we want from that room,” Anderson forced the words out. Cyrus let go and Anderson took a deep breath. “Get us the rabbit foot and we have a deal.”

Cyrus punched the seat before him, absently running a hand through his hair. His gaze fixed hard on the road throughout the rest of the ride.

The door to the hotel's room clicked open once he turned the key. He dropped the meal they'd given him on the bed and settled down beside it. On the stand by the bed a digital clock displayed ten, thirty-five, pm. 

The room was designed in an old English way with wallpapers that had odd spiral patterns. A phone by his bedside and two matching pillows for his king-sized bed. The effect of Selene spells were still heavy on him so once he laid his head on the pillow he was gone. He difted still clothed. 

The consistent sound of flushing from the bathroom made him turn and roll on the bed, he took a pillow to cover his head. 

“Da… Da… Daniel,” a voice hissed and called. The sound was barely above a whisper. But, there was a running feet across the carpet in responds. 

Cyrus eyes were wide open. Underneath the pillow he felt the loud beat of his heart. 

“Daniel…’’ the voiced dragged. “Be… careful child” 

Cyrus bolted up and turned in the direction of the bathroom. His eyes wide from adrenaline rush and the ramming of his heart against his rib cage.

There was nothing. No one. 

But, the bathroom lights were visible beneath the closed door. From within he could hear the sound of running water. He was taking his hand to his face when he saw the foot prints. 

There were black leg tracks that materialized from the bathroom to his bed and from that to the cupboard where the clothes he wore to sleep were neatly folded and place on a little table. The hairs on his skin rose as goosebumps broke out on his body. 

He scanned his body, only his underwear remained on. The sound of his heart racing occupied his hearing. The food at the edge of the bed where he left it had maggots swimming around in it with the foul stench of decay in the air. Cyrus turned to look at the digital clock. It displayed three am. 

“five hours,” Cyrus muttered. “It's not possible. Nothing like this is possible,” He added. Except it was. He felt his last meal threatening to rise within him. He gagged, jumped down from the bed and made his way toward the bathroom. 

He was reaching out to the door when there was a click sound from the inside and the door swung open. Inside was dark. Cyrus could not move, he stood, rooted on the spot. 

An old lady with a four wheel cane slowly made her way out, there were dired stains of blood on the silver gown she wore. She hissed and called into the room as its temperature dropped. 

“Da…Da…Daniel” she wailed. Her face twisted when her gaze landed on Cyrus. “Be… careful” she shrieked. 

The light in the bathroom flicked revealing a bloody floor. The old lady's deformed body pieces spattered on the shower curtain with many more across the room. There was the swarming sound of flies in the air.  

Cyrus legs wobbled and he dropped to the floor. A deep groan and sob broke out from within his throat as his body shook. “You're just hallucinating. it's not real, not real, can't be real,” he muttered. 

The light flicked and came back on. Bright and stable. The blood, the old lady and the flies were gone. The bathroom was spotless and the basin's tap water was gushing freely. 

Cyrus dragged himself into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. He splashed the cold water on his face and rubbed down. 

While he kept splashing water on his face, the light flicked and in the mirror his reflection stopped washing its face and crossed its arms. 

“Hey, that's not going to help you,” 

Cyrus paused. Slowly, with held breath, he looked up. In the mirror he saw the bloody scene with the swarming flies and behind the door were the broken wheel cane. It was rusted. The tap was gushing too. But what flowed was blood.

Cyrus looked down at the clean water in his hands and let it drop. He looked at his reflection and it was grinning. 

“All those years you spent studying the occult, the most important researcher at the foundation,” it snickered. “You know that's a lie. You've never believed because that would make what happened at the orphanage with Jennifer your fault. A child meddling with power he had no right to use.”

“Shut up! You don't know anything, it was an accident. I… I did not have anything to do with it,” Cyrus wailed. He looked down at his shaking hands and formed a fist. “It was an accident.” 

“Look at me! You coward!” It shrieked. Cyrus gaze rose to meet the black eyes of his reflection. In its hand it held a female doll made of hay with the name Jennifer sewn into it with a red thread. A large kitchen knife stabbed it clean through its chest and from the insertion blood dripped into the sink.

 Dip, Dip, Dip. It echoed. 

“You killed her!” It screamed. Cyrus pushed himself from the mirror and fell to the floor. Panting and sweating. 

“I did not kill her, that's just a stupid doll. I did not kill her,” he replied.