Megan shook her head. The coffee was too unsteady in her hands so she placed it down. Marc said he’d be back in a few minutes; he’d log on to his computers in his room and check everything. Megan perched on the edge of the sofa. Thoughts raced and jumbled. If Kerry and Sarah were in the lake then they never left the property. CCTV showed them leaving the property. Did someone kill them and then brought them back to dump their bodies in the lake? Was that even possible? They never left- they couldn’t have left. If it wasn’t them on the CCTV then who was it? You couldn’t see their faces, thinking about it, you couldn’t, it was just their backs.

  Then who was it? Someone else? What other women? Deborah? Only Deborah lives here. She’s slim, similar build, with a wig she could look like them, both of them. Wigs- there were wigs, lots of them. With sudden realisation, Megan knew that she had been shown them- she was shown the wigs. Jumping up Megan said she had to go, she tried not to look at Deborah differently but it must have shown. The fear and realisation must have shown. Deborah blocked Megan’s path. Her tone now changed to sinister.

  ‘Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,’ Deborah shoved Megan down onto the floor into the centre of the room, moved the oriental vase and released the lever.

  It happened so fast. No time to move. Before Megan knew it, her stomach lurched and down she fell. She dropped fast and hard and landed with a thud and a sickening crack. She screamed for she was sure her legs were broken. She looked up in blind shock to see the trap door close. The door she’d fallen through.

  ‘Oh my god, Megan,’ a voice cried.

  Megan briefly saw her sister trapped in a cage before she passed out.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Megan’s eyes flickered open; she hadn’t been out cold for long. She was instantly aware of a figure clamping something around her ankles, something cold and heavy. The pain was immense and she cried out. The figure grabbed her wrists as she tried to bat their hands away. She relented through the pain and the figure cuffed her wrists. Megan’s eyes started to focus and found herself looking into the face of Ian.

  ‘What the hell,’ Megan sobbed.

  Ian’s phone vibrated from his pocket, he checked it, smiled a wicked smile and disappeared out of the door. His footsteps could be heard running up a staircase.

  ‘Sammie?’ Megan cried, shuffling over to her sister who was cramped up in a small cage.

  ‘I’m in so much pain,’ Sammie cried. ‘You have to get me out... did you know?’

  ‘No, I don’t know what the hell-’

  ‘The keys, on the table, he’s left the key’s,’ Sammie waved her hand through the bars.

  Megan screamed out and grabbed her legs as she twisted around to look. There was a bunch of keys on the table. She didn’t waste time in dragging herself over to get them. The pain was unbearable but she made it back and fumbled with the assortment of keys. The third key fit the cage lock and with a click it opened. Sammie screamed as she crawled out. They hugged each other briefly and tightly before trying the keys in the locks of Megan’s chains.

  ‘None of them fit,’ Sammie cried.

  ‘Keep trying, try again.’

  ‘I am.’

  Sammie tried frantically but none of the keys worked.

  ‘Try the door,’ Megan pushed Sammie’s hands with the keys away, ‘just go, get out, get help, go.’

  Sammie dragged herself over to the door, reached up and tried the handle. It opened. She looked back at Megan wide-eyed.

  ‘Go,’ Megan urged.

  Sammie hauled herself up the steps and met with another door but that too was open. She pushed through it and immediately screamed for help. Her whole body was barely through the door when two boots appeared at her eye level.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Ian smirked and roughly grabbed her shoulders, shoving her backwards.

  Sammie tried to fight him off but once he’d shoved her to the top of the stairs he swiftly kicked and punched her, sending her tumbling down them. Megan screamed at the sight of her sister crashing back into the room in a heap. Ian emerged after her, closely followed by another person. Deborah.

  ‘You bloody idiot,’ Deborah slapped Ian across the face, ‘You left the doors unlocked? Really?’

  ‘I thought the keys were in my pocket,’ Ian rubbed his cheek.

  Deborah slapped the other side of his face and ordered him to chain Sammie up. Sammie screamed out and begged to be left alone but her cries were futile.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Megan shouted to Deborah.

  None of this felt real, if it wasn’t for the searing pain she felt, she could have sworn this was all some joke or dream or something, anything than what it actually was.

  Deborah smiled, ‘I’ve been longing for an audience. You know, I’m just going to show you a film. My work. It’ll explain everything. You’re both going to have to stop this crying though or you won’t hear it.’

  Ian pulled down a projector screen and started rolling the film. Megan and Sammie clung to each other, shaking and panting through the pain. Deborah cupped her hands under her chin and her eyes shone. She had the look of a child full of anticipation and excitement. The screen lit up and then a film clapper appeared indicating the take. Then appeared the Title- ‘Blind House 1878’

  Megan and Sammie looked on in horror at the opening scene, Deborah had put on a white coat resembling a doctor. There was a woman, chained, who Megan instantly recognised as Sarah. Her arms were bleeding from random incisions. Deborah started cutting away at Sarah’s hair, the woman was crying and pleading for her to stop. She was then forced to dress in a white gown, screaming out the whole time. Next Deborah produced a sack and covered Sarah’s head, proceeding to douse her in water.

  It was Sarah. Patient Number One was Sarah. Megan remembered the Ouija board spelling out Patient Number One. A patient but not a patient. ‘You’re sick,’ Megan spat. Deborah dismissed her and laughed. She winced through the following scenes as Deborah inflicted cruelty and torture on Sarah. Deborah got Ian to fast forward through some parts eager to get to the best bits- to Kerry arriving, falling through the trapdoor. Megan looked away when Kerry’s death played out, her throat slit. Sammie sobbed uncontrollably.

  ‘That was genius wasn’t it,’ Deborah laughed and mimicked her own words from the film, ‘You lose.’ I knew I had a flare for writing.

  Ian nodded over to her and winked in agreement. He skipped to the end scene. Sarah fought with Deborah until Deborah plunged a knife into her stomach.

  ‘Now that was just beautiful,’ Deborah gasped. ‘The perfect ending, the build-up of dramatic action, the fight and then... oh it couldn’t have gone better. Sarah fuelled my script perfectly. I’d say you couldn’t write that kind of action but... I did,’ Deborah laughed.

  ‘You’re a fucking monster,’ Megan screamed, holding her sister tighter who was excessively shaking.

  ‘I’m not the sick one. It’s everyone else,’ Deborah snorted. ‘You know, my parents did everything they could to prevent me from studying beauty therapy. They said I wasn’t safe to work with the public. I mean who holds their child back like that? Their own fucking child. Then they moved to Australia and left me. Ross... well he holds me back too, blocking my attempts to break into acting. It’s true you can only rely on yourself you know.’

  Ian let out a loud cough.

  ‘Yes, Ian has been the only one to ever support me and nurture my talents,’ Deborah quickly corrected. ‘Like any powerful, independent woman, I took the bull by his balls and made my own fucking movie.’

  Megan couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her mind whirled trying to make any sense from Deborah’s madness, ‘But this isn’t acting, you’ve killed two women,’ she spat.

  ‘It’s called getting into character. I was the doctor. Kerry and Sarah were my patients, they were genuinely mad. Do you think that they could sleep with my husband and that’d be okay? Women need to stop believing things will just be handed to them on a plate,’ Deborah turned to Sammie, ‘Did you really think you would just be handed an offer to work on a film set? No one is self-made anymore; it’s always about who you fucking know. Ross relied on contacts to get him where he is today. Everyone does it. It’s fucking spineless.’

  ‘Does Ross know you’re doing this, that we’re down here? Does Marc?’ Megan asked suddenly afraid that Deborah and Ian weren’t the only insane people in the house.

  Deborah laughed, ‘Have I not made myself clear enough? I’m brilliant in my own right. Ross and Marc are idiots and have never suspected a thing. You know why? Because I’m a fucking good actress.’

  ‘But two women are dead,’ Megan sobbed.

  ‘But two women are dead,’ Deborah mimicked in a childish tone.

  ‘Their spirits are-’

  ‘There are no bloody spirits,’ Deborah howled, ‘I know Marc has been playing those bloody pranks. Another example of a man thinking I’m an idiot. I knew all along it was him. There was never any ghosts. Sarah and Kerry only died in the early hours of Sunday.’

  Megan couldn’t take it in. They were only killed the day before she arrived at the house. ‘What was that all about then, finding peace for Dr Holdstock’s patients?’ Megan was struggling to get her words out now with the pain.

  ‘Oh I was just winding that silly old boot up, Nancy.’ Deborah burst into a laugh, the kind of laugh where a silly prank was played, like when you pull a finger and the other person trumps. Tears started to stream down her face through the fits of giggles, ‘I was just messing with her. She’s another sour faced cow because she didn’t get what she wanted. This house should’ve still been in her family and she hates it. Tough. Another case where someone expects something handed to her.’

  ‘So you were just making stuff up the whole time for fun?’ Megan whimpered.

  ‘Fun?’ Deborah said, her tone changing, ‘It was fun getting Nancy’s back up but this is serious. This is art, this is my work. You know what this is? It’s a choose your own adventure story. Dr Holdstock was actually an expert in his field, a compassionate man who treated his patients with dignity and respect. Well I chose a better ending. One with a more dramatic impact.’

  Ian started unpacking a bag of props. He pulled out two white gowns, just like the ones Sarah and Kerry had worn. He held them up and said it was time for Megan and Sammie to get ready.

  Sammie was the first to scream, ‘Help. Ross. Help.’

  Megan screamed out for Marc, Ross, anyone.

  ‘It’s no use, Ross is unconscious in bed, completely shitfaced. And I’ve locked Marc in the cellar. I told him you were down there,’ she said looking to Megan, ‘he went scurrying down there and I bolted the door. He’s just the other side of the wall actually,’ she pointed to the far wall, ‘well there is a bit of a void between the two cellars and it’s well sound-proofed. I haven’t figured out what to do with him yet. He obviously didn’t find anything on the CCTV showing Sammie leave and I couldn’t explain where you’d gone Megan.’

  Ian was shaking his head, realising things were snow balling.

  ‘It’s all fine though, we always come up with a solution, a way round things. Ross and Marc have always bought everything I’ve said. They don’t even know what goes on under this roof, don’t even know this part of the cellar exists.’

  Megan shuddered knowing that she must have heard Sammie fall through the trap door when she’d hid in the cellar for those few minutes. The minutes she now regretted. But how was she ever to imagine any of this? Ian threw a gown each to Megan and Sammie saying that if they didn’t dress themselves then he would do it for them with force. He waved the keys to their handcuffs until they both nodded in agreement. He unlocked the cuffs and warned them not to do anything stupid.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me,’ Sammie sobbed to Megan.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Megan pleaded, taking Sammie’s hands.

  ‘I was stupid to trust you. You brought me here.’

  Deborah gushed, ‘Isn’t this precious, and perfect as part of my new script. C’mon get changed.’

  Megan and Sammie slowly and awkwardly slipped off their clothes and pulled on the gowns.

  ‘Perfect,’ Deborah said. ‘So do you know why this house is called Blind House? Well before Dr Holdstock started using this house as a residence for the insane, he used to open it up as a day care centre for the blind. For respite, activities and care, that kind of thing. Again he treated his clients professionally. So I decided to write a prequel. People love a prequel don’t they? Ian read a bit of my new script.’

  Ian picked the script up and scanned a few pages and smirked as he settled on the passage he wanted to read, ‘The Doctor pulled out a scalpel and said to Patient Number One, “You refuse to see reality for what it is. What use are your eyes if you cannot not see physically or something deeper. There is more than one way to see and you have proved incapable. Your eyes are merely decoration." The doctor restrains the patient before making the first incision around her eyelid...’

  Deborah grinned, ‘I think we’re ready for our first take.’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Megan clung to Sammie who had begun hyperventilating. She tried to stay holding on to her but Ian was now wrestling with her to put the chains back on. Megan closed her eyes willing for all of this to stop, that this couldn’t be happening. Surely Deborah wasn’t sick enough to take their eyes? She pictured Kerry and Sarah’s apparitions in the lake and her heart broke.

  ‘You’re wrong you know, there are ghosts. They’ve been watching you all along. I know they’re in the lake. I saw them. How else could I know they’re there. How does that make you feel?’ Megan shouted.

  Deborah exaggerated a thoughtful look, ‘Their bodies floated to the top? You fell in, like the stupid little clutz that you are and found them. I thought I’d weighed them down enough, ah well. No matter, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again, won’t we Ian? The boat is stored in the outhouse already to take you on your final journey. Everything’s set.’

  Megan closed her eyes, praying that when she opened them, she’d be back in Devon sat on the dragon’s back. That none of this had happened, that she never took that phone call, that she never ended up here. She opened her eyes and through blurry painful tears, she made out the shape of a large black hound in the corner of the room. Deborah was barking orders at Ian and her words now drowned out, muffled under water sounds as were Sammie’s cries. The dog just sat there staring and Megan knew that this time it was finally there to take her- take her to the other side.

  ‘Now who shall I cast as Patient Number One and which one Number Two?’ Deborah’s voice boomed back into clarity. ‘Megan you’re Number One. Ian let’s get a quick take in. I’m exhausted... run the cameras.’

  ‘Take one,’ Ian smacked down the clapperboard.

  Deborah had thrown on her doctor’s coat and entered the scene pretending to make notes on a clipboard. She then got up close to Megan’s face as if examining her eyes, ‘I’m going to need a knife,’ she said sternly, marching over to the table where Ian had laid out her props. She marched back holding the knife up, examining it’s blade. Kneeling down to Megan’s level, she held the blade to her cheek. The whole time, Megan couldn’t take her focus off the hound. Sitting there, waiting for her. Waiting to take her to Kerry, to Sarah... to Christina. Her whole body shook and she felt close to passing out. Sammie screamed and begged Deborah to stop.

  Deborah slowly let the knife sink into the flesh of Megan’s temple, then withdrew it. She felt the trickle of blood run down her cheek. Sammie was shaking her head rapidly as Deborah turned the knife on her.

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Megan screamed.

  ‘You have the prettier eyes,’ Deborah cocked her head to the side looking at Sammie. ‘I bet you’re jealous of everything about your sister, aren’t you?’ she spoke to Megan. She suddenly raised her eyebrows, ‘I haven’t scripted this but I’ve just had a brilliant idea. Ian, did you bring the shotgun like I asked?’

  Ian confirmed that he had and pulled it from its case, then handed it to her.

  Deborah aimed the shotgun at Megan’s head then ordered Ian to unlock her cuffs. She then forced the knife into Megan’s hands.

  ‘You take her eyes, cut out her eyes or I’ll blow your brains out.’

  Megan could barely hold the knife through shaking, she looked at her sister who was deadly white and covered in a film of sweat, tears and snot.

  ‘You know you want her eyes so have them,’ Deborah pointed the gun closer, like she meant business.

  Megan could still see the hound. It was still there. She looked at her sister, she looked at the hound. She would die anyway, so she wouldn’t harm her sister. She scrunched her eyes shut and refused to budge. She waited.

  Bang, bang, bang, the knife clattered to the floor. Deborah jumped back dropping the shotgun. The room was suddenly full of police officers led by Detective Page. They’d battered through the door. Megan’s eyes flew open and sucked in a huge breath. It was a whirl of chaos, of voices and hustle. Deborah and Ian were pinned to the ground in a swift motion and Page was shouting for the keys to the chains and shouting for medics. It was all so fast, a blur. But through the action, Megan had noticed one thing, the hound had vanished.

  Megan and Sammie were carefully lifted from the cellar where ambulances with stretchers were waiting for them. Whilst officers were storming the cellar, other officers had stormed the house. Marc was found hammering on the cellar door off the pantry and was let out. Ross was dragged from his alcohol induced sleep, disorientated and confused. Both Ross and Marc were handcuffed, guarded by officers out on the driveway, waiting to be taken away for questioning.

  ‘Megan,’ Marc shouted over at the sight of her being lifted onto a stretcher, ‘What the hell’s happened?’

 

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