Night #4
Who is Jessica Daniels?
The officers sat outside all night. Maybe it was because the town was quiet? Maybe because there was hardly ever any crime in this town, but they seemed intended on catching the intruder. His parents seemed to know the intruder but how could that be? He would have to ask them but it would not be an easy task, especially sense his father had made his mother sit outside on the front porch to make sure that he completed the cleaning of that stupid barn. That was another mystery, what was up with that barn? Did I really not move all those wooden boards and clear out the pile of “shit”? He had to count it over several times feeling like he was beginning to learn remedial math again. If it was back to the way it was maybe his father would actually believe him. “I’m not moving all that shit again,” I could hear myself say as I still lay with the sun beginning to pour through the windows.
It was still early and I groaned slightly I hated being tired and not able to fall asleep. It was a problem that few would know or even understand. Ever since we moved into this house strange things had been happening and they seemed to happen every night. How could he spend two full days of labor and somehow it just magically returns to its original condition. No I didn’t believe that . . . I couldn’t believe that. It just didn’t make sense but then again ever sense I came here nothing was making sense. The first night I had seen a figure at the top of the stairs. The stairs lay unfinished and the second floor was unreachable, “it was dream”. I heard myself whisper sleepily. A dark figure had hung from the tree in our front yard and what about the figure that stood in the middle of the street? Could that figure be somehow related to the person that broke into our house? Maybe it was the same person? If only he had hung onto the burglar’s ankles a bit longer. He didn’t think he would ever forget that voice and the way his hands were thrown from the intruder’s ankles. The hoarse voice was so cold, “get off me kid”! Jack almost could feel the intruder’s ankles pull away as if slipping through his fingers all over again.
The intruder had long hair almost a greasy oil look to it. I was almost sure that the intruder was a girl but I couldn’t be positive about that. Everything about the situation was insane to begin with. The house was weird and things were only starting to get worse. When I finally opened my eyes I tried to hide the dread of waking and the thought of what “unusual” incident would happen now? “YOU FINISH THAT DUMB STAIRCASE,” my mother was screaming from the kitchen. It was funny because I had never really heard them fight before. However through the maze of boxes and stepping around furniture our house was getting more and more like a mouse trap. “The stairs will be done by tomorrow,” “I WANT THEM DOWN NOW”! My parents never fought in front of me and it was a very humorous situation. They would usually start arguing in the kitchen but eventually they would always end up in the garage. I felt myself smile into my pillow where would they go to argue now? There was no more refuge, no more safe haven. Maybe they would argue out in the middle of the rotting barn outside.
Finally unable to ignore the yells and pretend that I was still sleeping I began to rise and walk through the many pathways towards the kitchen. As I entered my mother had finished “Well it better be done by tomorrow or you’re going to sleep outside in that shit hole that you call your future workplace.” “Don’t worry about it I’ll have Jack . . .” he stopped when I entered the kitchen they looked at me as my mother wrapped herself tighter in her robe. “Oh hey Jackie your father and I were just . . . talking” I shook my head a little, “I’m not five anymore, I could hear your,” my fingers made air quotations as I said “talking”. “I will get started now huh,” my father gave a nervous little smirk making his face resemble a round egg. “You do that,” she muttered her tone still stern she turned back to me, “you will help him right”? I shrugged “I’m sure unless I have to move all that wood again”? “Again,” my mother repeated, “why would you have to move it all again”?
I hesitated a moment not really sure if I wanted to go down this road and so early in the morning. My mother’s face was filled with concern, “it’s just I spent all day moving those boards.” She nodded, “I know” I however was shaking mine, “no there is something wrong with this house”. She smiled “Oh I think somebody is home sick,” I shook my head again “not home sick, I’m being serious, there has been a lot of weird stuff going on around here”. She placed her hand on my shoulder “don’t worry Jack soon you will get attached to this house as I did”. “Is the sheriff still out there,” deciding to change the subject was probably the best idea. I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to tell her the full story because I didn’t even know all the details. What had I stepped into when I arrived at this house? “Yeah they are still out there. I’m sorry that you had to see that last night, it must have been awful you were really brave to try to fight her off ”. I almost felt like I had crashed into a back wall so it was a girl. “It was a girl,” I asked as I watched my mother’s face fall when she had realized her mistake. “So you do know who did this,” her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she seemed to be dwelling on the best way to answer the question.
“No,” I somehow knew she was going to take it this way always trying to hide the world from me. “Mom, you are a really bad liar can you just be honest please,” “I am being honest,” she snapped back. Her face was growing redder always a danger sign with her. If I was going to proceed with this conversation I would have to do it in a very delicate manner. “It’s just weird mom, I mean we are out here in the middle of nowhere. Why would a girl break into OUR house, you don’t find that a little . . .” “That’s enough Jack! I don’t want to hear anymore and I won’t stand for your accusations . . . now go! Go help your father with that staircase”! “But mom she wasn’t just a burglary, I think she was looking for something,” but my mom did not seem interested in the slightest. She just pointed out the kitchen “Out Jack get out there and help your father”! “But what about the sheriff outside,” “Those officers will stay there until they deem it safe”.
I shook my head, “so you expect the girl to come back huh”? My mother was about to yell when I said, “I know, I know . . . out”. I turned from her and walked through the maze of boxes to try and find the best path to the stairs. I decided to climb over our large sofa where my dad was already hastily placing boards on the stairs to form the actual steps. Maybe I could get some answers from my father? Obviously everybody knew who this person was because the sheriff wouldn’t still be outside waiting for her to come back. What did I really expect to do when I first saw her slinking off into the corn fields? I had never really gotten a good look at her. If I knew later that night she would be breaking into my house then I should have called out to my parents. I should have told them when I had the chance, but what was in the past would have to stay there. The fact remained that my parents were keeping something from me and I needed to find out everything I could.
“Hey dad,” my father wiped his sweating face, “hey Jack,” he replied with a small smile. ‘Whenever you are ready you can come and help me you know,” he looked around at the almost finished staircase. “It’s almost done,” “it looks good” I said not really interested in the stair’s craftsmanship. “So dad what did the sheriff and deputy talk to you guys last night about,” my father stared at me. He looked unsure if he really wanted to answer the question, “Well . . . it’s adult business, nothing for you to worry about”. I groaned “come on dad don’t give me that adult business”. “How about you grab a hammer and help your poor father out,” not really sure what to say next. “I will dad can you just please tell me who is Jessica Daniels”? My father gave another unsure look at me, “she . . . well, she . . . used to live here, we bought the house from her”. “Live here,” I said gazing around the house, “but why would she . . .” my father shook his head, “no more questions Jack just get over here and help me”.
Constructing the stairs was hard work and soon the stairs began to finish. My father gave me the honors of hammering in the final nail. We stood at the top of the stairs and patted each other on the back. My father was happy enough for the both of us. He stared down at his creation as he yelled “hunny come in here for a second”! Footsteps could be heard coming through the pathway as she stopped almost dropping the dish that she was wiping dry. Her mouth was wide with shock, “oh my god it looks beautiful”. My father shrugged “well not beautiful but I will stain it and everything. It won’t look so . . .” My mother smiled, “I am just happy we can clear this stuff out of here”. He just smiled back, my mother waved her arm, “You can take forever on the staining I just wanted to get some room in this place”.
With the stairs complete now it was time to move everything up them. My father sweating profusely began with me bringing all of our stuff up the stairs. Box after box we grudgingly carried up the stairs. The hours passed as the first floor began to empty slowly. After several minutes of complaining my father answered my pleas of food with “alright just help me with this couch and then we can eat”. “Couch,” I groaned, “well do you want this couch in your new room”. “I guess,” I said not really wanting to carry a heavy sofa up the stairs. “But what about the living room,” my father began to grip the couch, “your mother wants a whole new set . . . out with the old in with the new I guess huh?”
“Yeah whatever,” I replied in a very tired tone, “let’s just get this couch up . . . I’m starving”! Gripping the couch we hoisted it up and began to climb the wooden stairs. “Wait stop,” I yelled, my father’s face was all red as my mothers did whenever she got angry. “The stairs are going to collapse,” his father gave a soft, “no Jack they are fine I am a carpenter after all”. I applied more pressure onto the second step and the stairs groaned with discomfort. “Dad are you . . .” “Just go Jack this couch is heavy as shit”. Despite my better judgment I began to hoist the couch up the stairs. They creaked and groaned with every step and maybe it was my imagination but I thought I heard some of the wood cracking. My father either growing tired or worried that his precious stairs might collapse hurting us both he began to push harder, “come Jack hurry up”! “Alright,” I yelled back reaching a small landing, my dad called it “the halfway point”. However the large wooden boards gave a groan that was unlike the previous. This groan actually made me yell, “Stop dad the wood is . . .” I felt the wood beginning to crack, “hurry Jack,” yelled my father. “Wait dad,” I yelled but the wood snapped and I felt my feet almost sinking through the wood, “dad I’m going to . . .” Crack, I let out a little yell of terror as I fell through the stairs. I must have fallen about eight feet as I hit something hard, shattered wood rained down upon me as I covered myself. I heard the couch drop onto the stairs, which began to groan louder. “Jack, Jack,” my father’s voice was distorted and seemed miles away. I don’t know how long I laid there but when I opened my eyes I was staring into blackness. I was almost not sure if my eyes were fully opened. My father was looking down at me through the giant hole in the stairs.
“Jack, are you alright,” my father’s voice was worried and scared. “Yea dad,” I said weakly, “I told you the stairs was breaking”! My father gave a soft, “I know Jackie I am sorry”. I began to wipe the rubble off of my legs as I began to take notice of my surroundings. It was dark and the dust filled the room like a thick fog. It smelled old and felt like a crypt. “Dad,” I asked as my father began to stretch out his hand towards me, “take my hand Jack”. I began to get up, my tailbone and back was sore. In addition, my legs didn’t feel right either. As soon as I put pressure on my legs, they wobbled dangerously. I began to reach my hand for my father to pull me up, when I noticed a stairway leading down into darkness. I began to retreat from my father’s outstretched hand, “Jack where are you going”? I began to move closer to the stairs edge, “hey dad there is a stairway leading down here”. “I know Jack, take my hand,” “but dad I think there is a room down here”. “I know Jack,” he said starting to get angry, “will you just take my hand Jack so I can pull you out”! Reluctantly I walked over to my father’s hand and gripped it, “you knew that it was down here”? My father began to pull me up as he said through his pain, “yes we knew about it”. As my father lifted me out of the hole I wondered, why would they build a staircase over another room? It was obvious they wanted to keep it hidden but why?
(To Be Continued)