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* * *
Several times I woke, groggy, some deeper part of me screaming, “You have to get up!” before the sleepy, confused part muttered, “It's just the pills again” and I drifted back into unconsciousness.
* * *
Finally I remembered I wasn't taking the pills and I did wake. To the sound of labored breathing. I lay there, my brain still fuddled, heart racing, as I tried to call “Who's there?” But my lips wouldn't move.
I rocked wildly, unable to get up, unable to move my arms, scarcely able to breathe. Then, as I struggled to inhale, I realized where the sound of heavy breathing came from. Me.
I forced myself to lay still, to calm down. Something was tight across my cheeks, pulling the skin when I moved. Tape. I had tape over my mouth.
My hands were tied behind my back, and my legs . . . I squinted into the dark, trying to see my feet, but with the door closed and no light coming in, I couldn't see anything. When I moved my legs, I could feel something holding them together near the ankles. Tied.
That crazy bitch!
I never thought I'd call someone that, but with Tori, no other word fit.
She hadn't just lured me into the crawl space and knocked me out. She'd bound and gagged me.
She was nuts. Absolutely nuts.
Well, duh, that's why she's locked up in this place. Mentally disturbed. Read the label, Chloe. You're the idiot who forgot.
Now I was stuck here, gagged and bound in the dark, waiting for someone to find me.
Will anyone find you?
Of course. They wouldn't just leave me here to rot.
You've probably been unconscious for hours. Maybe they've stopped looking. Maybe they think you've run away.
It didn't matter. Once Tori'd had her fun—and her revenge—she'd find a way to let someone know where I was.
Will she? She's crazy, remember. All she cares about is getting rid of you. Maybe she'll decide it's better if you're never found. A few days without water…
Stop that.
They'll think someone broke in. Tied poor Chloe up and left her in the crawl space. That would make a good story. Chloe's last story.
Ridiculous. They'd find me. Eventually. But I wasn't going to lie here and wait for rescue.
I flipped onto my back and tried using my hands to push myself up. When I couldn't get a grip, I rolled onto my side, then twisted and squirmed until I was on my knees.
There. At least I could inch forward. If I could make it to the other side of the crawl space, I could bang on the door, get someone's attention. It would be slow going, but—
“Chloe?”
A man's voice. Dr. Davidoff? I tried to answer, but could only make a muffled “uh-?uh” sound.
“. . . your name… Chloe…”
As the voice drew near, and I recognized it, the hairs on my arms went up. The basement ghost.
I braced myself and looked around, knowing even as I did that I couldn't see anything in this blackness.
This complete dark.
“. . . relax… come for you…”
I shifted forward and smacked nose-?first into a post. Pain exploded behind my eyes and they filled with tears. When I lowered my head, wincing, I smacked my skull into the post, and toppled sideways.
Get up.
What's the use? I can barely move. I can't see where I'm going. It's so dark.
I lifted my head but, of course, saw nothing. Ghosts could be all around me, everywhere—
Oh, stop that! They're ghosts. They can't do anything to you. They can't “come for you. ”
“. . . summon them… you must…”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing. Nothing but breathing, blocking that voice.
“. . . help you… listen… this house…”
As terrified as I was, the moment I heard the words “this house” spoken with such urgency, I had to listen.
“. . . good… relax… concentrate…”
I struggled against my bonds, trying to push myself up.
“No, relax… come for you… use the time… make contact. . . I can't. . . must get. . . their story… urgent. . . ”
I strained to pick up more, struggling to understand. Relax and concentrate? Sounded like what Rae suggested. It had worked when I was with her, at least enough for me to see a flash.
I closed my eyes.
“. . . good… relax… summon…”
I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined myself making contact with him. Pictured him. Visualized pulling him through. Strained until my temples began to throb.
“. . . child . . . not so…”
His voice was louder. I balled up my hands, willing myself to pass through the barrier, to contact the dead—
“No!” the ghost said. “Don't—!”
My head jerked up, eyes flying open to blackness.
Are you there? I thought the words, then tried saying them, an “uh-?uh-?uh” against the gag.
I ticked off two minutes of complete quiet. So much for pulling the ghost through. I must have shoved him farther out of reach.
At least the interlude gave me a moment to calm down. My heart had stopped its scared-?rabbit pattering, and even the dark didn't seem so bad. If I could inch toward the door and bang on it…
And what direction is the door?
I'd just have to find out.
I started toward a sliver of light that probably came from around the door. The ground trembled, and I pitched forward.
As I straightened, the bindings around my hands moved, loosening. I twisted my arms, pulling my wrists apart. Whatever knot Tori had tied was poorly done, and slipping.
Rich girls, I thought. That's what Rae would say.
I worked my hands free. When I reached for my legs, the tremor came again, stronger now, and I had to brace myself to keep from falling over.
