Jolting violently, I fall backward off the bed, landing painfully on my
tailbone. I hardly feel it when panic has taken over. I’m not even capable of screaming for help, too lost in terror to do anything but desperately kick my feet, scrambling back toward the wall and away from the eye.
I plaster myself against it, chest heaving and heart racing. The rain outside grows stronger, droplets slamming into the window with a ferocity that rivals the beat of my heart.
My nails dig into the wood as another low creak breaks through the pounding
in my ears.
Someone is in there. Can they see me now, tucked into the corner of the room?
Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it, waiting for something to happen. It feels
as if my head is shoved into a guillotine, trapped in that heart-stopping moment
of anticipation for when the blade drops.
I’m expecting a figure to break through the planks, a terrifying demon straight
from a horror film, bent backwards on its hands and feet and crawling toward me
at an unnatural speed.
Something I’d enjoy watching from behind a screen—safe and sound.
But I’m anything but safe in this place.
Another flash of lightning, followed by a loud crack of thunder.
I flinch, expecting to see the eye still staring at me from between the wood,
but nothing is there.
A noise slips free from my throat, something between a wheeze and a laugh.
I’m going insane. I have to be.
Shakily, I climb to my feet, my knees nearly clacking together from my fried
nerves. It’s enough to momentarily distract me from the lingering pain in my body.
I’m an idiot. Someone hiding in the walls is just preposterous. But then my smile slips with one sobering thought.
That girl from Satan’s Affair used to watch people from within the walls of the haunted houses before she killed them. But it can’t be her. Last I heard, she was still locked up.
There’s no one in the walls, Addie. You’re being crazy.
Right. I’m being crazy.
Determined to prove it to myself, I decide the only way to know for certain is
to look. Tiptoeing to that spot in the corner, loud creaks emphasize each step. I
haven’t learned any of the quiet spots yet—haven’t had a chance to.
It’d be less terrifying if I could flip on the light, but it’s too risky. I’m not willing to attract their attention and would rather take my chances with the lurker. That’s another sobering thought—realizing that I feel safer with the monster in the wall than I do with the ones that run this household.
But if I’m ever going to sleep again, drugs or not, then I need to be sure there’s no one hiding in there watching me sleep.
Another flash and I rush forward to investigate the depths behind the wooden
boards.
Nothing is there, at least not that I can see. I’m not brave enough to put my
eye right against the planks, but it’s enough to satisfy me right before I’m plunged back into darkness.
Slapping a hand on my chest, I breathe out another laugh, choppy and
uneven.
As I’m making my way back to the bed, I step on an uneven spot, the wood
shifting beneath me. I freeze and look down. Wiggling my foot, the wood shifts
again, groaning in protest.
My curiosity piques, along with a spark of excitement. I crouch down as
quickly as my body will allow me to, which is admittedly very fucking slow.
While I’m healing from the car accident, I’m still just as achy from the lack of
movement.
Planting my hands on the plank, I slide it as far down as it will go until there’s
a gap.
I pick at the edge of the wood, hissing when my nail bends backward painfully, nearly tearing from my finger. Blood sprouts, but I ignore it, determined to see if anything is hiding in the floorboard.
Finally, I find purchase and manage to lift it high enough to lodge my finger
beneath it. Carefully, I pop the wood out and stare down into a black abyss.
Blowing out a breath, I plunge my hand into the hole and feel around,
cringing when my fingers brush across bug carcasses, and lord knows what else,
but my disgust morphs into excitement when I bump into something solid.
I snatch it up and almost squeal when I see that it’s a journal.
No fucking way.
I just stare.
Finding Gigi’s journal inside a wall in Parsons Manor was unbelievable.
Something that only happens in movies.
But finding another journal inside the floor?
Impossible. Fucking impossible.
But the evidence is in my hands. A cheap leather notebook, nowhere near as
fancy as Gigi's. The material is cracking and completely missing in some areas,
yet it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Eyes wide, I open the journal and almost yip when I find several written entries inside.
I glance around the room, almost like I’m searching out for someone else to
confirm that I’m staring at what I think I am.
It’s too dark to see anything now, so I stuff it back in and replace the wood,
promising myself to read it later when I can see clearly. Then I stand, too excited
to whine over the pain, and slip back into bed.
My heart is racing, partly from the euphoria of finding another journal and partly from disbelief.
She-Devil? If you did this… thank you.
I lie down, feeling slightly comforted that I now have something to cling onto
while facing whatever is coming for me.
The storm raging outside lulls me back to sleep, and just as I’m slipping into
consciousness, footsteps creak from within the wall, slowly retreating.
Chapter 8
The Diamond
“You have such pretty hair,” a soft, whimsical voice says from behind me.
Inhaling sharply, I whip around, startled from the unexpected intrusion.
It’s her.
The girl Jerry was carrying in over his shoulder when I first arrived. The girl
with fire and ice in her gaze, and the same creepy smile tipping up her lips that
she’s currently wearing.
Long blonde hair curls around her waist, and deep brown eyes stare at me from the doorway. She’s slightly hunched and terribly skinny.