Her footsteps sounded unreasonably loud in the silent house; the soft soles of her shoes against wood were like a siren announcing her presence. All around her the house remained eerily still. Delilah noted that if this were one of the movies she watched late at night while her parents slept, now would be the precise moment when the killer would jump out at the unsuspecting victim, slashing them to pieces. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, half expecting to find someone there.
Delilah had always believed she was more clever than the average girl, but in that moment, with so much space between herself and the front door, she wasn’t so sure. Why was the house so still? Was it nervous? Was it confused? Or was it somehow lying in wait?
Delilah texted Gavin again: I’m here. The house is so quiet. Are you sure this is ok? It doesn’t mind?
Her phone buzzed only seconds later with his reply: Of course I’m sure.
It’s really dark, she told him, wincing in apology as she hit send. She didn’t want to come off as nervous or needy. . . but the lack of lights coming on in the house and the lack of a fire blooming to life in the fireplace was starting to feel a little odd.
Really? he replied, and then immediately after, added, I’ve never needed a flashlight before, but I know there are candles in my nightstand.
At the top of the stairs, a hallway stretched long and shadowed in front of her. Framed photographs of a smiling Gavin—spanning from toothless to the tall, lanky boy she knew today—covered the walls.
She paused at a particularly large grouping of frames. In the first, Gavin stood alone with a much simpler version of the house looming behind him. In the second, both Gavin and the house had changed considerably: both had grown taller, and certain features had become more clearly defined while others had softened. And it continued: Each photo depicted a progressively older boy standing in front of a much larger and more complicated house.
Delilah realized she was standing in front of what could only be considered a series of family portraits.
Against the same wall stood a long, narrow table, a simple bowl of red apples she recognized from the tree out back resting on top. Delilah took a step back, her eyes following the ornate legs to where they ended, carved into what looked like the paws of some wild jungle animal, long claws digging into the wood floor. She wasn’t sure why this particular detail stood out to her as strange, surrounded as she was by a house that lived and breathed and had raised a seventeen-year-old boy, but it sent a chill through her anyway.
She continued on and passed several rooms, doors ajar and filled with the same fading light as the rest of the house. Delilah hadn’t paid much attention to them before—with Gavin nearby, it was hard to concentrate on much else—but now each one seemed to call to her, as if every corner held some new and deliciously dark secret.
Delilah cast the light of her phone into first doorway. It seemed ordinary enough: a large bed draped in fluffy white down, a nightstand, a rocker flanked by gleaming windows. The next held a set of twin beds, identical quilts covering each one. The wallpaper changed abruptly just before the third room, where a sea of hunter green abutted a yellow wall of dandelions.
She stopped in the doorway of a nursery, the space practically bulging with sloppily packed boxes, various toys spilling from beneath the cardboard flaps. Delilah remembered Gavin saying that the house provided whatever was needed, and she couldn’t help wonder who all this was for. Gavin? Someone before him? Someone after?
The sun had all but gone, and the room swam with strange shadows. A doll peered at her from the top of the bookcase, its head lolling to the side, glass eyes dull and—thankfully—lifeless.
She moved down the hall, stopping short at a creak just behind her. She stood still, breath locked in her throat, the hair on the back of her neck standing up straight.
Delilah had always been the kind of girl who let her imagination run wild, and though she was certain that was the case now, it did nothing to stop the pounding of her heart inside her chest.