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Wait. The journal. Matthew's journal. She could take it with her, read it this evening. It might help make the time pass more quickly.
It might help her understand the crazy things that were going on in this house.
She walked quickly to the rocker and picked the book up. The old leather binding was warm to the touch, as if someone had just been holding it, but she knew it was only because the book had been lying in the late afternoon sunlight that was streaming in through the open window...
The window, and the shutters, slammed shut.
Kathryn whirled around, her heart pounding with fear.
"Who's there?" she demanded.
There was no answer.
"Dammit, is somebody here?"
She forced herself to step forward and swing the light around the room.
It was empty.
Take it easy, Kathryn. Be calm. Be logical. There's got to be a simple explanation.
The flashlight shook as she swung the beam over the room again. With the sunlight gone, everything was changed. The walls seemed to have grown closer and to rise at a strange angle. She flashed the light up over the rafters. They seemed to rise forever, with no end in sight.
And the corners...
She swung the light again.
Moments ago, the corners had been filled with nothing more ominous than dust balls. Now, they overflowed with shadows.
Shadows that moved.
Kathryn felt the hair rise on her arms. She wanted to scream, to run, to fling herself at the door.
But she didn't. Anything like that would be a mistake. The thing to do was to walk slowly but steadily from the room.
Pick up one foot. Now put it down. Pick up the other...
How long could it take to cover the twelve or fifteen feet to the door? An eternity, Kathryn thought, oh yes, an eternity. And every step of the way, she fought the terrible urge to take just one quick look behind her and see...
What?
Something, Kathryn. Something. Something that was, even now, reaching out to clasp her shoulder.
With a cry, she threw herself through the door and slammed it shut.
The bolt wouldn't catch.
"Come on," Kathryn whispered desperately, "come on, come on!"
The door turned icy cold under her hands.
Nausea rose within her.
"Close, damn you," she babbled, "close!"
The bolt snapped home.
A little sob of relief broke from her throat. She put her palm against her heart; it felt as if it were going to burst from her chest but she wasn't about to stand here, waiting for it to ease back to a gallop.
