Chapter 22

By

Brynn Morgan

Copyright © 2023 by – Brynn Morgan – All Rights Reserved.

It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

Chapter 22

Cynity and Hillary decided on a video call. The call came through Cynity's laptop, and she answered on the second ring.The picture was grainy at first but eventually cleared up, and Hillary came into view.She was a Hastings with dark flowing hair and piercing eyes inherited from her ancestor, Elizabeth. Her face was pale, and she wore no trace of a smile.

"Hello, Hillary," Cynity said warmly.

Hillary looked so tired."Hello, Cynity." Her voice was drab and lacked all feeling.

Cynity took a sip of coffee and waited for Hillary to start. Hillary was struggling. That was easy to see.

Instead, Cynity asked. "Why the sudden change of heart, Hillary? You were dead against it the last time we spoke." she reminded her.

Hillary shifted in her seat uncomfortably and cleared her throat. She leaned forward and looked directly at the camera. Her voice was low. "It threatened Anastacia."

Cynity's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

Hillary blew out an aggravated breath. "I had a nightmare!" she voiced with irritation.

"When?" Cynity asked cautiously.

"The same day that I spoke to you. I dreamed I was at Hasting's house, and the girl came after me and Ana."

"What?" Cynity asked incredulously.

Hillary took another deep breath. "I just want this to be fucking over for God's sake Cynity. She has tortured me long enough, and I will not let Ana endure this torture."

Hillary began to tell Cynity of her encounter with the girl many years ago.

***

"I was twelve years old," she said. "I had been shopping with Mother all day for new clothes. We had just arrived home, and I was tired from all the stores we had shopped in that day. I could barely put one foot in front of the other."

***

Hillary – Then

"When we get home, Hillary, please take your new things upstairs and lay them out on the bed for Beatrice to put away," Marjorie instructed in a soft voice as she checked her pretty reflection in the silver compact mirror and snapped it closed with a click, flinging it back into her white clutch.

Hillary hated her mother. She was so disgustingly kind and beautiful to everyone that it pained Hillary to look at her. Marjorie could have been an actress on the silver screen. Hillary, however, had her father's gangly and awkward looks, and she hated that too. She was not ugly; she was plain, and no one saw her.

Her parents mostly ignored her, and Hillary was okay with that. She was an only child. Her mother and father would go on trips and be away for weeks at a time, leaving her in the care of the servants. Hillary liked her books. If you gave her an enjoyable book, she was perfectly content. She loved hiding in a small cubby in her father's library, behind his large executive desk, and losing herself in the stories she read for hours.

This shopping trip that her mother had forced her into that day was only to appease her guilt for going to Germany for over a month and leaving her alone.

"Yes, Mother," Hillary said in a flat tone.

The chauffeur parked the car in front of the mansion and opened the passenger door for Hillary and Marjorie to exit.

"Thank you, Dusty," Marjorie said graciously and handed him a folded, crisp ten-dollar bill, which he shoved into the black pocket of his coat.

Hillary followed her mother into the grand entranceway of the house, and then she climbed the staircase holding her shopping bags in both hands.

Once she reached the top of the stairs, Hillary turned right to go to her large bedroom decorated in pink and gold. Hillary hated the color scheme of her room. Marjorie chose the colors, and Hillary had no say in the matter. But such was her life. She had resigned herself to it.

Hillary opened the bedroom door and entered the ample space decorated with Queen Anne furniture. She slid her feet out of her shoes, and her toes molded around the thick white carpet. Hillary felt drowsiness come over her swiftly. She placed the bags on the floor and stretched her body out on the cover to avoid messing up the sheets. The room's interior was calm and inviting on that scorching June day, and the light streaming through the open pink satin curtains made her even sleepier. She drifted off to sleep.

Some time had passed, and the sun was going down, casting the room in dark shadows. Hillary woke up disoriented, unsure where she was at first, and then she rose in the bed and noticed that her door was closed and all her new things were strewn about on the floor, ripped to shreds. Someone ruined Hillary's beautiful dresses. Her mother would be so furious. Her dark eyes widened in her pale face.

It was then that she noticed the figure of a girl standing at the far end of the room, with her body facing the wall. Hillary had never seen her before, and she leaned forward to speak to her."What are you doing in my room, and why did you destroy my clothes?" she asked rudely.

Hillary assumed she was a new housekeeper her mother had hired, but she looked so young. There was no response from the girl. She just stood there. Silent and unmoving with her hands down by her sides.

"I asked you a question, and you better tell me who you are now, or I am going to tell my mother!"Hillary demanded in a high pitch.

Ever so slowly, the girl began to turn. The side of her face came into focus, ghastly in appearance, with her mouth gaped open dreadfully and wearing the most evil smile.

Hillary's eyes widened in fright. The girl approached her, and she realized with absolute horror that she was floating!

Hillary was immobilized with fear by the threatening girl. She could not scream. Her vocal cords were frozen. The girl came closer and closer and then hovered in midair, looking at her, daring her.

Hillary moved quickly off the other side of the bed and flew toward the bedroom door, tripping as she fell. She grabbed the handle, turning the knob with sweaty palms. It opened without resistance.

She ran out into the hallway gasping, filled with terror, and turned to look back. The girl glided out of her room, chasing her. Hillary started down the steps and felt the fierce shove in the middle of her shoulder blades. She screamed as she fell.

The only thing that broke her fall was a large, potted plant that the servants struggled to carry up the stairs earlier that day and had left there for the time being.

Hillary sobbed as she grabbed the banister railing and pulled herself up. Elsie heard her crying where she had been dusting the music room and came to her aide, noticing the petrified look on Hillary's face.

Elsie did not ask any questions. She led her to the kitchen, cleaned up her bloodied knees and elbows, applied a healing salve to the broken skin, and covered it with bandages. Hillary was numb and stunned, and her small hands shook uncontrollably.

Hillary was never the same after that day. She became even more withdrawn and reclusive and refused to sleep upstairs. When it would start to turn dark outside, Hillary would sob every night, begging her parents not to let her go upstairs alone; every night, her mother and father insisted that Hillary was a big girl, and they would make her go in and shut the door.

She would huddle in the corner, terrified; the only light was the small bedside lamp on her nightstand, which concealed the corners of the ample space.

Hillary felt that the girl lurked in the corner waiting for her, and she would wait until her eyes became so heavy with drowsiness that she could keep them open no longer.

The girl haunted her nightmares. Hillary began to resist going down the stairs alone. She was horrified at the thought of being pushed down the stairs again. Her tantrums increased, and Majorie finally relented and had a room prepared for her downstairs to have peace in the house again. It did not help matters, though, because she began to suffer from night terrors and would destroy things in her room.

That is when Majorie approached her brother Parker and asked if Hillary could stay with them for a spell. He thankfully said yes.

***

Hillary – Present

"When I came to stay with you and Uncle Parker, I had hoped that I could escape her, but I couldn't, and it was so foolish to think that I could." She said in a harsh, bitter tone. "She has plagued me for years and haunted my dreams for over fifteen years. Sleep meds don't work. Hans holding me has no effect. I still wake up with cold sweats. She is forever there, watching, waiting. I hoped that when I escaped to the other side of the world, she could not haunt me anymore, and that was true for a while at least, and then she resurrected."

Cynity felt so bad for Hillary. She had no idea that she had suffered so.

"I know that the girl is the cause of these deaths, but what can I do? She has been on a rampage for centuries, and I do not know who she is or how to stop her." she finished helplessly. "Mother made me promise that I would keep the house in the family line, but it is torture for me to do so. I am at a loss, Cynity. I truly am. I have kept the house so that she could take no more lives in it, but it is as if she lures them, draws them to her. Like a siren to sailors. She will continue to kill."

Cynity shook her head. "Emily and Lainie want to investigate further, and they believe it all stems from that room at the end of the hallway. That is where I first saw her myself."

Hillary's eyes widened in shock. "You saw her too?"

Cynity nodded. "Yes. I did. And it was the most terrifying experience of my life."

Hillary's gasp was audible. "That is why you never went upstairs again?" she asked with realization.

"Yes. I never wanted to see that face again." Cynity stated with a shiver. She remembered that horrible face coming out of the shadows toward her and floating, watching her.

Hillary sighed. "Emily has my permission to enter the house and investigate the room. I will call Maureen and let her know she will not hinder them in their search. I am still determining how they will get into that room, though. It seems like it has been locked from the inside out. They can take whatever measures they need to get in there." She paused. "But Cynity, whatever happens, is on them. They enter at their own risk," she said in a warning, and her voice was grave.

***

Cynity called Lainie later that afternoon and told her about the conversation with Hillary. She informed her that she had recorded the call, unbeknownst to Hillary, and would send it to her so that Emily and Lainie could listen to her telling the story. She also informed her that Hillary had permitted them to enter the house. Lainie immediately called Emily and shared the news.

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