He shook his head, looking saddened. It made my breath hitch.
“No, you don’t want to find him,” he said. “Go hide under the bed.”
He tried to push me down until finally I dropped to my knees and slid underneath. Mattress stuffing hung down beneath the wooden plats, brushing against my face. He then crawled in beside me, but further back, until I could only see the glow of his eyes.
“Who are we hiding from?” I whispered.
He held my eyes but did not say anything.
The door to the bathroom creaked open, flooding the room with pale yellow light. I held my breath and heard the soft smack of footsteps on tile.
A foot slowly came into view, then another. White, laced with dark veins. I could only see up until mid-calf, but I knew they belonged to a woman. A very dead woman.
This was a house of nightmares, Dex’s nightmares to be more exact. I knew who this woman was and I knew why Michael was hiding.
The feet turned toward me. Creepy, crawly bugs began to slither down her leg and fall onto the carpet, as if she were brushing them off. They crawled right toward me and I stiffened as their tiny legs got tangled in the lengths of my hair.
They were no scarier than the feet that had taken a step toward me.
She knew I was here, she knew we were under the bed.
She walked, slowly and with deliberation. Her pale toes flexed.
Dex’s mother stopped at the foot of the bed, facing my direction.
I waited. One second stretched on and on.
She began to drop down to her knees.
One knee, then another.
One frail hand. Then the other. Both of her palms were covered in blood and bugs crawled out of her broken nail beds.
The scraggly black ends of her wavy hair floated down into view.
I went rigid. Ready run, to fight, to scream. I didn’t want to see her, what would have been my mother-in-law had she still been alive.
Her white face appeared inches before me and I was hit with a blast of cold, feral fear. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, maggots writhing in them. Her eyes were black, just a Michael’s had been.
I expected to feel animosity slither off of her, just like the insects. I expected for her face to contort into fathomless anger, all directed at me. Wasn’t that always the case with in-laws?
I did not expect her dead features to crumble and for inky tears to fall out of her eyes, dripping onto the carpet.
“He shouldn’t have come here,” she said, her voice metallic and weak, like listening to a lost transmission. “I tried to tell him, to warn him.” She reached out and grabbed my hand, slick with cold blood. It grew translucent, until I could see the bones shining through. “It is too late.”
I licked my lips, trying to speak, but nothing could come out.
What was too late?
She gave a shake of her head. “He shouldn’t be with me. Not now. Too young. My baby is too young for this.”
Was she talking about Michael? Mrs. Foray was making no sense but at the same time, I didn’t think she was drunk. She was sober, albeit dead.
“What is this place?” I finally managed to whisper.
“This is Hell,” she said harshly. “My boys grew up in hell. They died here too.”
My eyes bugged out. “Died?”
The light in the bathroom went out. Darkness descended upon us.
“Mrs. Foray,” I cried out, gingerly reaching forward to touch where her hands and face should have been.
There was nothing.
“Michael?” I asked over my shoulder, scooching further back and trying to feel where he was. There was only carpet and empty space.
I was alone. The world was silent.
Almost.
A familiar scratching sound came from behind me, like something was brushing up against the wooden slats under the bed. It sounded like long, spindly legs, crawling my way.
The image of a cat-sized spider flashed through my brain.
I wasn’t wasting any time. I quickly pulled myself out from under the bed and stood up, trying to find the door out through the darkness.
Perry! Dex!
The sound was faint, so faint I thought I was imagining it.
But it repeated once more. Maximus’s voice, softer than the air and only inside my head. He was out there. But if he was calling for Dex, it meant he wasn’t with him.
My heart felt like a block of ice. That sense of loss I had experience earlier came back, tugging me down. I was afraid to know what it meant. Way too afraid.
Where are you?! I yelled. Maximus? I’m upstairs in a bedroom, where are you?
But there was no reply. And the thing under the bed was starting to growl.
I stumbled forward, feeling for the door in the dark. I smacked right into it, stifling a cry, and quickly found the knob. I was certain it wouldn’t turn, but it did and I yanked it open.
The hallway was dim except for orange light that flickered in from one of the open doors. Heart in my throat, I walked forward down the hall. I peered in the first door that had been Michael’s room. It was blackened inside, shaped like a cave. Fire danced in the distance. The dimensions of the house were gone.