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Mia, who has been strangely silent, is staring at the pictures on the screen, and she grabs my wrist, her hold so tight that I feel that my blood flow will cease.
She’s shaking like a leaf as she says, “The—that room. I know where Halley is.”
16
Halley
My head is groggy and thick as my eyes open.
Encountering darkness, I blink.
What’s going on? Wasn’t I in the car with Uncle Raymond just now?
My eyes adjust to the darkness and it’s then when I realize that my movement is hindered by something cold and heavy on my wrist.
I try to pull and I hear the clanging of metal.
Chains?
The dullness fades from my mind, as I taste the bitterness of fear on my tongue.
Why am I chained to what is clearly a wall?!
My eyes adjust to the darkness as I see the large expanse of the room, and it takes me a few minutes to recognize where I am.
The cellar of the old abandoned church was always considered haunted, and as children, we used to explore it in the hopes of finding the ghosts that everybody said haunted this place. The last time I was here was on Cam’s eleventh birthday, a week before my entire life shattered.
“Uncle Raymond,” I whisper into the darkness. “Are you there?”
There’s no response.
I reach out with my leg and try to sweep it along the floor in the hopes that he’s here and just unconscious like I was. My leg touches something and I freeze in shock, and my voice trembles, “Uncle Raymond?”
But once again, all I’m greeted by is heavy oppressing silence.
Shivering, I curl into myself, significantly aware of how the metal is biting into my skin, trying to remember how I ended up here.
But nothing comes to mind.
We had stopped for gas and Uncle Raymond had gone inside to get some snacks. He’d brought me a soda. I’d felt sleepy after that and he’d promised to wake me up when we reached...
What hap
pened to him?
I open my mouth to scream but I don’t want to attract the attention of whoever brought me here. There is no way someone aside from this person would hear me.
I look to my left and I see a strange figure. It’s in a horizontal position and looks like a person but it is too still.
“Hello?” I whisper out, my voice cracking.
There’s no movement.
I’m scared and I try to stand up but the chains are short, my arms slightly raised. They are hanging next to my head, and as I shuffle, trying to think past the suffocating fear, I feel a pinch in my hair.
The hair pin.
I had put one in this morning to keep the hair out of my eyes.
