The Curse Runs In Our Blood

Going Mad?

Candace decided not to retort about the man's lack of kindness, just paid for her ticket and headed for the available seat closest to the exit door.

Looking out the bus window, she didn't see anyone nearby. She really was exhausted. She must have been impressed by what happened in Room 647, to continue hearing the phrase Mr. Staton had spoken.

The drive to her house was smooth. After about half an hour, she arrived at her destination and motioned for the bus to stop. She saw the smirk still on the driver's face as he glanced in the rearview mirror. She shook her head, disapproving of his behavior and got out of the vehicle.

She lived in an apartment two blocks from the bus stop. The day had been reasonably hot, but it had cooled off at night. All she wanted was to get home, take a nice shower and get something to eat. The grocery store around the corner was open, so she went in, bought some sausages, macaroni and cheese. She was definitely in no condition to cook anything fancy.

She didn't feel like she was being followed. With the change of environment, her body and mind must have relaxed and stopped paranoia.

The building was dark gray, already fading in places. The neighborhood was poor, but she didn't want to spend too much on rent at the moment. She preferred to save for the moment so she could buy a house of her own in the future. She climbed the three flights of stairs and turned right, putting the key to the third door down the hall. As she turned the key and looked inside the door, she felt something strange, as if she weren't really alone. The feeling was almost the same as when she came home from school and her grandmother was there, lying on the bed in her room, waiting for someone and forgetting that she even had a granddaughter.

She put her hand on the wall, looking for the switch. She ran her hand about three times and couldn't find it. She found it strange, because after months of living there, it was clear that the movement of turning on the light was automatic. She withdrew her hand, took a deep breath, and tried again. This time, the switch was there, where it should be.

Leaving her groceries on the kitchen counter, Candace headed for the bathroom, removed her skirt, the pale blue blouse her mother had given her last Christmas. Everything went into the laundry basket, along with the underwear.

She turned on the shower and let the warm water wash away not just the dirt, but the worries and bad feelings she'd had since the old man had mouthed those words. Coming out of the shower, she put on her robe and grabbed a towel to dry her slightly wavy brown hair. She rubbed the palm of her hand on the mirror to clean off whatever steam from the shower had left there. The first thing she saw when she looked into the mirror was the reflection of her greenish eyes, staring back at her. She took the comb she was leaving in the sink and began to untangle the knots.

Still in her bathrobe, she went into the kitchen to prepare dinner. She regretted not ordering a pizza. The telephone in the living room rang and she turned off the fire and went to answer it.

"Hello?" Nothing. Silence at the other end of the line. She frowned and spoke again. The answer was the same, that is, none.

She looked at the device. Would it be broken? But he was new. She unplugged the line from the connector, waited a few seconds, then plugged it back in.

If it was important, they would call again. Suddenly, she smelled burning. She looked into the kitchen and saw smoke rising. She quickly ran to the stove, put out the fire, and realized the noodles were no longer edible. But how weird, because she remembered having blacked out!

It was almost 10:00 p.m. She wasn't going to call and wait another hour for food. She heated up the sausages and that was her dinner. She brushed her teeth and threw herself on the bed. At least tomorrow she could sleep later, since after the 12h shift, she would rest 36h.

Her night was filled with nightmares, with shadows, a faceless man and the words 'It's about time' echoing all the time. Finally, she decided not to try to go back to sleep. She glanced at her bedside clock and saw that it read 4:02 a.m.

"What a piece of crap!", she said to herself, and sat up in bed. She pushed the covers aside and put her feet down, looking for her slipper, but what she felt was water. She gave a little cry and drew her feet back. She looked at the floor and saw that it was flooded. Closing her eyes tight, she cursed, something she rarely did. When she looked down at the floor again to contemplate the damage, she was stunned, her mouth hanging open. The floor was dry. Dry!

She laughed to herself, out loud. But what a joke! She must still be half asleep, that's all. She panicked about nothing. She put on her flip-flops and went to the bathroom, as her bladder was about to burst.

As she passed through the hallway, she saw a pillow on the floor. She bent down and picked it up. She was surprised, as she hadn't even sat on the couch last night. When she turned around to take the pillow back to the correct place, she ended up dropping it from her hands, such was the fright she got. It was all overturned! The sofa was overturned, the lamp on the floor and broken, its CDs scattered on the carpet, some even with the covers cracked. The TV was on, but synced to some channel that had no signal.

"What the hell happened here?" she asked aloud. If someone had walked in there, she would have heard all this commotion. Thinking of the door, she ran there. She was locked up. Another thought came to her mind, because with the door locked, there were only two options: either they had the house key and locked the door on the way out, or they were still inside.