Chapter SevenI start with the newspapers, endlessly stuck on the windows, covering all views of the house up from the inside and outside. A more obvious understanding of the situation now that I’ve seen the website and all it entailed. A story set as if I was definitely murdered, that the police couldn't find any clues because I had been chopped up in the basement and then eaten. Although we didn't have a basement and my mothers favourite thing to subsist on turned to alcohol and legumes, instead of the meat of young children. Which is how the story apparently went. Angus must have been one of those horror story nuts, and considering he would have been maybe ten when I died, kids' imaginations can go wild. I sigh, can I bme them? This house is not something to see after dark, even with the knowledge that I had the only keys for the house now, both of them left in the newly installed keyholes as Angus desperately made his way away from this pce.

  It… was not the kind of pce I would want to find myself in the dark, at least not knowing that it ‘wasn't’ a murder house. I managed to find an old cleaning supply, the liquids somehow still hanging on after their old age, not that I feel chemicals for cleaning should ever dissipate, but you can't stop what you can't stop. The windows take some work, after all the old newspapers are taken down, small bits still prevail on the gss. Spending more than five minutes on each, the muscles in my arm starting to numb after less than an hour of work, the pain starting within the third window. I didn't touch the upstairs rooms, mine or mother’s. I still haven't looked into hers, it was out of bounds once dad left, a pce that would lead to instant punishment, like she was bming me for it everytime she looked at me. Even more so when I also came out as gay, such disgust in her eyes for being the same as him.

  The tale of the witch, according to the website, started at that point… That she lost her mind after being abandoned. But, he didn’t abandon us, he was forced out, and she didn't murder him, he died in an accident a year ter, along with his new partner… A man I had met briefly, that brought so much joy to my father that I could think nothing ill of him, despite my mother’s constant attempts of poisoning. I tried to go to the funeral, but was brought back to my room and locked in, unable to see him off one st time, maybe that's when she started to hate me more, the way I looked at her for making me lose that st time with him, or maybe with another family that he tried to make for himself.

  Despite my mood I try to find the most hip music I own, hoping that the neighbours hearing it won’t invent more rumours, instead of the crackling of thunder for the witch's house, they can enjoy some Cyndi Lauper expining how she touches herself in obscure ways. Yes, that won't start a scandal for Night Rock City haunting grounds. The best way to give a haunted house new life is by showing there is life inside, maybe I should make a post online… Noo nonono that's way too much attention to myself. The thought of having to give pimpled hormone ridden boys interviews as they ask me about dying does not spark joy.

  It starts to get dark before the floor is done, the giant broom thankfully working hard enough for both of us as it sweeps the entire hallway. My stomach starts to growl angrily, almost painfully as I realise I haven’t eaten all day, much less eaten st night, just trying to get everything done, and I have a list, a singur focus to get what I can done and fuck everything else. I should write one to make sure I tick off for eating as well while I’m so desperate to get everything finished. I sit down on the high chair in the kitchen that faces the isnd in the centre of it, something that mother always said was ahead of its time, the white marble stone top wiped clean as one of my first acts of defiance against the dirt of this pce.

  I scroll through food joint after joint, hoping for something to catch my eye before seeing a pizza pce that had been in this town since I was a kid, that as a family we had visited for a treat, which meant anything worth celebrating at that point in time. I give them a call, hoping that they still had the same pizza I had when I was a kid, wanting to go down there but also knowing that I have too much work to do to really rex.

  Ring… Ring… Ringring… Click “Hello, this is Papa Bresoli’s pizza, this is papa how can I help you today?” The same voice rings through the phone, older now, he must be in his seventies, he could never trust his sons with the ovens, always telling them off for not getting it right, but he would look at our family with so much love for coming in, he treated all his customers like family. So much in this town was still the same, something I was getting more grateful for as I discovered them.

  “H-hi, I saw that you deliver now, and I was wondering if you still do the Papa pepperoni surprise?”

  “Hah… the papa pepperoni surprise, I uhh can make it for you, we haven't had it on the menu in years, not posh enough my son always said, but nothing beats a good spicy pepperoni I always say, of course I can, uhh is there anything else you would like?” I can hear him turning the pages in his little notebook, his hands curled slightly as he grew older, some of the kids used to say he was growing into a monster, I would rather think of it like only the good people in the world suffer.

  “Can you make it family sized, and if you have any soft drink, it doesn't matter which type, I just need some sugar in my system after today…”

  “Of course I can! Now what's the address, and I will send my son Michael over, he is the youngest of my grandsons, not the brightest but ayy what can I do about that, you don't need the smarts to make pizza, only the muscle memory.” I ugh at his joke. He always liked to be mean to them with customers, and they would rib him back, but there was so much love in that kitchen.

  “Yeah, the address is 109 Travellers road, and yes I will be here, I’m cleaning the pce up at the moment.” There is a pause in the phone line and a heavy intake of breath before he speaks again.

  “Y-your not little Jane are you?” I feel tears well in my eyes as I try not to cry.

  “Y-yeah, that's me… Hi Papa, it's been a long time…”

  “Oh… Jane… you… poor thing, y-your food’s on the house, j-just promise me that you will come visit, I'm getting too old for trips out, otherwise I would be there… oh my dear… I’m so gd you're okay…” I hear shouting in the background and Papa covers the phone before yelling back, “I-I send Michael over now, be safe… please come and see me Jane, you were, are, a joy to this old man's heart.”

  “I-I will Papa, thank you…” He grunts in response, and just before he hangs up the phone I hear a single small wail go through the speaker. I put my phone down on the counter, He did always consider his customers as family, maybe some more than others… Cindy uper kicks back in and I jolt in surprise before calming myself. Looking outside it has started to get darker, approaching seven PM I make sure all the doors are locked and try my best to keep focused as the pain in my stomach builds, the need for sustenance growing. I find some cans left over in the pantry, but the thought of touching anything in this house makes me recoil slightly, wanting instead to just do a complete clean sweep and start from fresh, especially since I want to sell it.

  I turn off my music after some more cleaning, not seeming to be able to deal with it while I'm this hungry, prefering to suffer in silence. Thankfully not too long after I hear the sound of a motorbike, as I get outside I see the light behind my car, and a figure approaching with a rge sealed back and a motorbike helmet on. He flips up the eyepiece and eyes me warily. “Uhh Jane, I presume?”

  “Yeah that's me, uhh… i-is Papa okay?” He sighs and starts getting out the giant box as well as what I can only assume is lemonade by the color, thankful that the light from the house reaches out this far.

  “He's… fine, just, haven't seen him cry like that.” Fuck.

  “He was, I used to see him a lot as I was growing up, and it's been a while.”

  “No kidding, he kept saying that he ‘wished he could have helped’ or something. Was kind of distressing seeing him like that, he normally isn't one to get so emotional... A-anyway, uhh enjoy the pizza.”

  “Wait, uhh let me get you a tip or something at least.”

  “Haha noo way missy, Papa made me promise not to take any money off you, he said if I did, ‘You will never see the inside of a kitchen again!’ which in my family is like saying you're getting kicked out of the family, fate worse than death and all that.”

  “Sorry… just, tell him thank you, that I will be in soon to see him, that he is helping me remember that I still have family here, and thank you as well Michael.” A deep blush appears on his face above the visor, I assume a big smile is on there too, he is at that age.

  “Hah yeah of course, uhh see you around, hopefully, Jane. Have a good night!”

  I take the pizza and drink and bring it inside, seeing him turning back to look at me every so often as he gets on his bike. The pizza is huge and I'm able to find and clean a cup before pouring my lemonade into it, thankful that I was right, a drink perfect for my needs. I flip it open and the smell hits me like a truck, not too greasy, but covered in cheese, the peperoni surprise was always that, a big surprise, papa liked to put different ingredients under the cheese and so it was always to his preference and person, a personalised pizza just for me.

  I take a slice out and take a bite, tears instantly filling my eyes and running down my cheeks, this time without stopping. Underneath the cheese I can taste the little sliced cherry tomatoes and chilli fkes, the same pizza that he used to make me as a child. He remembered, he really did remember. I let out cries of anguish as I devour the pizza, slice after slice, tears and snot dripping down my face as I remember all the times that I was happy, as a family. Such a thing long since past but each bite seems to bring such joy as well as sorrow to my heart. I was home, but what did home mean anymore when there was barely anything left?

  This pce was tainted by fear and pain, but underneath it was so much love and happiness as a child. But I’m no longer a child, and I have to face that I will never be able to go back to being the me that was so innocent and without doubt that the world would always be okay. The world is a different pce now, and so was my home. I finish it all and make my way up the stairs, the same creaking at my feet as when I was a child, knowing which steps to avoid, I let them creak now, so that the house knows I'm here. I open the door to my room and let the smell wash over me, before pcing my body on the bed, my head on the pillow while I cradle my clothes in my arms, using them to cover me slightly. The room is warm and alluring like a venus fly trap, waiting for me to become one with it again.

  I fall asleep, wishing I was that child once again, before the disappointment, pain and betrayal. When I was allowed to be ignorant, and full of innocence. As I do, I hear the whispers of her voice as she sends me off to sleep, wishing to also go back to those days, to a time we were happy. When it was just me and my Angel.

  ———

  The hallway is long and dark, shadows seeming to push in from every corner, the walls are jagged and bck, like shining dark crystals tamed to fit a space by human means. I hear her screaming ughter at the end of it, a rising falsetto that begs me to come and find her, and I would, I always could, whenever she was lost I would find her wherever she was. We were always connected, always meant to be together, from the day we met to the day we died.

  I sprint through it, the reflection throwing back at me disfigurement and panic as I too screamed, my throat horse and pained. There was only one way to run but It felt like it was dozens, like if I touched the walls I would suddenly be on another path, the darkness always pushing in, trying to find a way inside me.

  I hear her screamed ughter again and follow suit, I make it to a room and enter it with haste, a table in the center of it, that same tamed crystal along the walls, roof and floor, it was everything that it was made up of, and more, it stretched on inside itself forever and a day. It stretched on inside me too. She struggles with the binds that hold her, and I wait and watch. To see what happens to her. To what happens to me. To what happens to us. I grab her hand in my own, comforting her as she comforts me, the room as it pushes in, asking us questions we don't understand. I feel myself pulled through the dark floor, the room that she is in, that she is waiting for me in, slowly disappearing into the dark depths above me.

  She is alone, and now we are alone.

  ———

  I awake in a shiver, my hand clutching my own, a stark white as I let go and feel the tingle in it, as the blood makes its way violently through the veins that I deprived it of life. I feel the buzzing of a phone against my chest, not realising that I even brought it up with me, it pushes against my stomach to make a mark against my skin. The buzzing against my belly makes me realise that I desperately need to go to the toilet, but that I also managed to eat an entire family sized pizza. My stomach feeling bloated from my own stupidity, and now being punished by my own actions.

  I pick up the phone and see Tommy’s name on it, I quickly pick it up in case something was wrong.

  “Sorry to bother you so early Jane, but uhh… we have had reports of your house being haunted by Cyndi Lauper, just thought I’d let you know.”

  What is wrong with people?!