In the House
"What're you doing, Uncle Lawrie?"
He looked away from the wall, pulling his ear away as well before giving a look to her. Emma, Bren's daughter, looking pale as a sheet in her little nightgown. He gave her a smile and tapped the side of his head to the wall again.
"Thought I heard rats, love," he admitted with a sheepish look. "That's all. Probably just old house noises, yeah?"
The little girl looked a little nervous at the mention of rats, but much more comfortable with the idea of house noises.
"Haven't been in a place like this for ages," he continues. "You like it up here, away from most anywhere, plenty of peace?"
"There's no peace here," Emma replied, something... odd to her voice. Like she was saying more than she was saying and almost, almost like someone else was saying it. Her face broke with a smile then and that strange other quality left. "I just mean, what with the sheep and the wind and the water and everything. You know?"
He knew. But he also knew other things, dark things. About government and monsters, those Man had made and those it had only discovered when it delved into the deepest, darkest corners of the world. He knew them the hard, real way. The painful, terrifying way.
And he knew, no doubt, that you don't dismiss the odd. That human beings were given gut feelings for a reason and that those who dismissed them tended to go without them soon enough.
Guts, that is. Usually in the messiest sort of way.
"Right, Em," he agreed with a smile before tipping his head towards her room. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"
She nodded.
"Had to pee."
He could understand that.
"G'night."
"G'night."
He waited until he heard her settle under her covers before putting his head against the wall again, silent and careful. He'd have to be a little more discreet or hell, Bren might stumble into him and then where would he be? It's not as if his cousin hadn't been giving him looks already.
But I'm not crazy, so if I'm hearing voices... it's not me, he thought to himself. Especially not with all that seems wrong about this place.
His ear to the wall, his eyes drooping closed as he hadn't gone to bed yet and it was late, he almost convinced himself he wouldn't hear it again. He put his hands to the wall as well, almost as if trying to wake up a stubborn sleeper.
He almost startled when he heard it again.
Help me.
What he'd been hearing for the past two days.
Help me, please. He'll catch me. He'll catch me. Please.
Emma, please. Why did you leave me here?
He pulled away from the wall.
Shit.
He looked away from the wall, pulling his ear away as well before giving a look to her. Emma, Bren's daughter, looking pale as a sheet in her little nightgown. He gave her a smile and tapped the side of his head to the wall again.
"Thought I heard rats, love," he admitted with a sheepish look. "That's all. Probably just old house noises, yeah?"
The little girl looked a little nervous at the mention of rats, but much more comfortable with the idea of house noises.
"Haven't been in a place like this for ages," he continues. "You like it up here, away from most anywhere, plenty of peace?"
"There's no peace here," Emma replied, something... odd to her voice. Like she was saying more than she was saying and almost, almost like someone else was saying it. Her face broke with a smile then and that strange other quality left. "I just mean, what with the sheep and the wind and the water and everything. You know?"
He knew. But he also knew other things, dark things. About government and monsters, those Man had made and those it had only discovered when it delved into the deepest, darkest corners of the world. He knew them the hard, real way. The painful, terrifying way.
And he knew, no doubt, that you don't dismiss the odd. That human beings were given gut feelings for a reason and that those who dismissed them tended to go without them soon enough.
Guts, that is. Usually in the messiest sort of way.
"Right, Em," he agreed with a smile before tipping his head towards her room. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"
She nodded.
"Had to pee."
He could understand that.
"G'night."
"G'night."
He waited until he heard her settle under her covers before putting his head against the wall again, silent and careful. He'd have to be a little more discreet or hell, Bren might stumble into him and then where would he be? It's not as if his cousin hadn't been giving him looks already.
But I'm not crazy, so if I'm hearing voices... it's not me, he thought to himself. Especially not with all that seems wrong about this place.
His ear to the wall, his eyes drooping closed as he hadn't gone to bed yet and it was late, he almost convinced himself he wouldn't hear it again. He put his hands to the wall as well, almost as if trying to wake up a stubborn sleeper.
He almost startled when he heard it again.
Help me.
What he'd been hearing for the past two days.
Help me, please. He'll catch me. He'll catch me. Please.
Emma, please. Why did you leave me here?
He pulled away from the wall.
Shit.