Chapter 25
Samantha's sudden illness had taken her out of school for several days, and although she had no fever, her mother was at a loss to explain the rapid onset of her symptoms. Ruling out anything unusual, she came to the safe assumption that Samantha had, somehow, managed to pick up a stomach flu. Henry told her they had been exploring another abandoned house but mentioned nothing of the events that had taken place there. It wasn't that he didn't consider it. However, those who consider themselves to be sane generally do not believe in such things as the disembodied dead or anything else they see as irrational. Samantha's mother had occasionally entertained the idea of a spirit world but only because Samantha was a believer.
The next day, Henry stopped by to see how she was doing. Her mother answered the door with a tired face, having been up for most of the night watching for any signs of infection. Letting him in, she told Henry he could see her for only a few minutes due to how sick she was, and showing him to Samantha's room, she quietly knocked on the door.
“Sam, honey,” she began. “Henry's here. He just wants to see how you're doing. Is it okay if he comes in for a few minutes?”
Although Samantha was covered with several heavy blankets, she would occasionally tremble from sudden chills. With a weak voice, she strained to be heard as she raised her head off the pillow.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Henry walked in and sat next to the head of her bed.
“So, you okay?”
He'd never seen anyone that sick before and didn't quite know what to say. Even a brainless question was better than a grim remark.
“I've been better,” Samantha answered. “But I should probably take a break from everything for a while.”
Henry agreed and offered to drop off her homework assignments from school. But before she could respond, Samantha had drifted back into a deep sleep. A moment later, her mother knocked on the door and stepped in with a hand on the door frame, indicating that Henry's visit was over. He got to his feet, and put a hand on her head as her mother looked on, thinking how good it was to see the two of them as such close friends.
Stepping back into the hallway, Henry also informed her mother that he'd be bringing her homework for her. He asked if he could stop by again, and while Samantha's mother admired his concern she thought it best to apply some limits.
“In a couple more days,” she said.
She showed him to the front door, and as she opened it thanked him for stopping by. She was not yet aware of Samantha's budding relationship with Melissa, but she knew her daughter well enough to know that she and Henry would never become anything more than friends. There had never been any discussion of the issue, and as long as Samantha remained silent about it, there probably never would be.
Every day, Henry stopped over with a reading list from Samantha's classes, and every day, he would inquire about how she was doing. It wasn't until the second or third day that he was allowed to visit again. By this time, Samantha was sitting up in bed, eating soup. Her mother kept after her to drink plenty of fluids, intending to speed her recovery. Once again, her mother went to her bedroom door, and knocking, asked if Henry could visit. This time, her answer reflected noticeably more energy, leading Henry to believe that Samantha's condition was better and walking in, he immediately saw that her face had regained its healthy color.
“Hey,” he began. “You look a lot better.”
Unlike his previous visit, Samantha now had the energy to dress but did little more, not wanting to exhaust herself. She had also started the homework assignments Henry was bringing on a daily basis. Again, he sat near the head of the bed, planning on staying a little longer than his last visit.
“So, what happened?” he asked.
The last two days were something of a blur, but Samantha clearly remembered the experience she had right before her sudden illness. Describing it as accurately as possible, she expressed her interest in returning to the house. But for now, she needed to take a break until her strength and appetite returned to normal.
The next morning, she woke at around nine 'o clock to the sound of her phone. Samantha still required more sleep than usual but also realized she would, at some point, have to begin getting up early when she returned to school. Slowly moving the covers away, she reached out towards her desk and picked up her phone, assuming it was Henry checking to see how she was feeling. Melissa had also called over the last few days, having been told by Henry of her illness. Their conversations didn't last more than a few minutes, but they took the time to catch up, and express their affection for each other. Touching the phone's screen with her thumb, she expected to see a text message. But what she saw instead both confused and frightened her. There, on the screen, was a picture. It appeared to have been taken at night and within the illuminated frame, Samantha found herself deeply asleep. Perhaps her mother had come into her room last night and trying to access her texts, accidentally took the picture. But the image seemed perfectly framed and Samantha didn't believe that her mother would examine her phone without her permission. Yet, there it was. Someone had come into her room during the night, and photographed her as she lay in a deep sleep. A chill rushed over her as she tried to consider the possibilities but none were forthcoming. Sitting up in bed, she studied the picture carefully. The only thing she found odd about it was that it was there. Otherwise, it was just a picture.
Throwing off the covers, she got out of bed and hurried downstairs. Her mother had already left for work, leaving a note on the refrigerator door, encouraging her to eat and stay hydrated. Now, another thought entered her mind. Perhaps someone else had entered the house during the night. The rational side of her dictated that this was unlikely, and those things rarely happen in towns like Norway. But the paranoia triggered by the picture on her phone told a different story. In that narrative, not only had the house been quietly broken into, but the intruder was hiding somewhere inside, and it was this individual who had taken her picture, if for no other reason than to play a cruel joke.
Rushing to the kitchen, she quickly took a long serrated knife from the silverware drawer and cautiously began a search of the house. There were several moments when Samantha was so stricken with fear that her legs became stiff, refusing to move. Her breathing shortened, as her heart raced while she inched from room to room, holding the knife out in front of her. An hour later, Samantha had searched the house twice, peeking under the trap door into the attic, and creeping down the stairs into the basement. Finding nothing, she went into the living room and sat on the couch. Still, with the knife in her hands, she asked herself if it was good or bad that the house was empty. Had there been an intruder, the image on her phone would have an explanation. On the other hand, an intruder might very well have killed both her and her mother, or worse.
Feeling the relief of being alone and safe, there was still the overwhelming fear of not knowing who or what was responsible for the picture on her phone. Samantha thought the possibility that she could have taken it herself. After all, between her experience at the abandoned house and her sudden flu, she believed it was very possible she could have been sleepwalking. But examining the picture again, she noticed that both hands were visible and tucked slightly beneath her pillow. It was a mystery she was unable to ignore and a clear test of her sanity. However, she found a way to put off her anxiety. She would wait until her mother returned from work, and hopefully, she'd be able to offer an explanation. Even a rational possibility would be better than the psychotic idea that her phone may be watching her.