Blood Ties

A room full of hate, time travel, and a Mother's love...

-------------------Chapter 8: Room 302--------------------

Dust tickled his nose, but Daniel refused to sneeze. He was afraid that even the simplest noise would ruin this chance--this one time he could finally witness the horrific event that had tormented him night after night. His mind was ready now, ready to face whatever came his way. Pushed to the brink of insanity he had chased floating dolls, painted pictures that moved, endured faceless things dragging him--appearing in mirrors; matched wits (somewhat) with an undead serial killer, and even spoke to a sister he had never knew existed. Nothing could faze him. Whatever happened--whatever he saw here tonight…he would endure and finish this!

He remained stalwart, clenching Old Ben’s bat with sweaty and aching hands. Silence surrounded him like layers of thick cloth, heavy and stifling. Nothing moved in 302, but the air was fraught with expectation--as if holding its breath.

Keeping his own breathing steady, he surmised that he missed the chanting, but remembered the music started exactly six minutes after the boy flees--which happened to be in the next thirty seconds. A scraping sound caught his attention; and he turned just in time to see the door slam shut. Daniel swiveled back and rolled his eyes, trying to calm his thumping heart. Figures, why keep the door open when blood and death are about to begin? he thought. He adjusted the grip on the bat and inhaled.

Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three…

The clock upon the wall began ticking; hollowed sounds--sporadic and clumsy. Daniel’s eyes shot toward it, watching as the pendulum jerked and swayed, and then settled into a measured rhythm. The clock hands wound to 12:45 AM.

Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…

Lights flickered, a lazy strobe effect that made him blink with irritation. Electricity buzzed and wavered with nascent revival, the sound challenging the clock for dominance. Lamps sprang to life then and illuminated the walls with a dull, lemon glow. The overall effect was startling--as previous “lumps” suddenly became furniture, each chair and sofa stained red like his apartment.

Ten, nine, eight, seven…

What happened next was astonishing. Cream-colored walls warped and shifted; dainty pink roses with verdant leaves zigzagged over the surface. Both couches and chair wrapped themselves in pale green coverlets; the bottom tassels beaded and clicked together as they maneuvered into position. Pictures surfaced from the walls like rocks from water, tilting and straightening to perfect levels. An old TV built itself within moments, 32 inch screen ballooning and wood shaping as it materialized against the far wall. The entire room shimmered like a desert mirage, morphing, the effect tantamount to the doll’s aura and Walter’s energy.

The last thing that manifested was the record player, glass and plastic swirling into existence with an abrasive squeal. Daniel watched in awe as the living room reverted to the standard 70’s décor: the effect magical, but unsettling. He knew what came next; and no pretty little time warp was going to make things easier.

Three, two…one…

Even though he expected it, Daniel flinched as music jangled from the record player; the song was unknown to him, but it carried a lively beat. He grimaced at his reaction, but recovered his stance; gray eyes flitted from one end of the apartment to the other…searching.

The sharp scent of perfume hung in the air, the smell like lavender and vanilla. It spun his senses for a moment, but he stepped forward, bat raised and ready.

“Beneath it's snowy mantle cold and clean,

The unborn grass lies waiting for its coat to turn to green.

The snowbird sings the song he always sings,

And speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in spring.

When I was young my heart was young then, too.

And anything that it would tell me, that's the thing that I would do.

But now I feel such emptiness within,

For the thing that I want most in life's the thing that I can't win.”

Lyrics jingled in the background, melancholy and upbeat, but Daniel ignored them and focused instead on the time. He prepared himself for the couple’s arrival. One minute passed, then two, and he broke into a cold sweat. His eyes darted around the room. They should be here by now.

Maybe they aren’t coming…maybe this is some sort of trick…

A woman entered the living room.

He twitched in surprise and the bat swung forward by reflex--but halted at the last possible second. He recovered, his hands shaking and head swiveling as she breezed past him, humming softly to herself. Heavy lavender pervaded her wake, and he realized the scent was hers all along.

She flipped on the kitchen light, oblivious to Daniel’s presence as she sang, her voice rugged, yet, still pleasant to his ears.

“Spread your tiny wings and fly away,

And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.

The one I love forever is untrue,

And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.”

Her hair was long and blond, with shimmering waves catching the light overheard. A gauzy blue nightgown fell to her ankles, but the thin material left little to the imagination--especially around her bulging middle. She rubbed her stomach with affection, caressing with light fingertips as she opened the fridge and obtained a half-empty jar of mayo. Then she proceeded through the cupboards, pushing things around until she gave a delighted “hah!” sound and pulled out a small packet of sugar. The plate came next; followed by two slices of bread, banana, mayo, and then some sugar sprinkled liberally on top.

While she made her sandwich, Daniel came closer, waving his hand and moving from side to side in order to gain her attention. She ignored him, her strange concoction of bananas, mayo and sugar top priority to the mom-to-be, and she savored every bite. Bemused and fascinated, he appraised her, noticing that she appeared as solid as he did, yet, she made no acknowledgment toward him--or even glanced in his direction. He circled around her until he stood behind and his head cocking back and forth in amazement. She continued eating, humming again since her mouth was full.

“The breeze along the river seems to say,

That he'll only break my heart again should I decide to stay.

So, little snowbird, take me with you when you go,

To that land of gentle breezes where the peaceful waters flow.”

Curiosity overcame him, and setting the bat against the counter--he reached his hand out, intending to touch the pale strands of hair clinging to her back. But as he neared, he could feel cold air seeping over his fingers, freezing the tips until he snatched his hand away with a yelp. Unaware, the woman padded out into the living room and turned the volume higher on the record player.

“What’s the matter honey, can’t sleep?”

Daniel turned as a tall man emerging from the hallway, yawning and rubbing his eyes before sliding his dark glasses back on. Styled thick and black as most frames from that era, the spectacles overwhelmed his face, making him seem older than he was. He guessed the man’s age in his early thirties. He wore blue striped pajamas that made Daniel think of the Brady Bunch. His hair was a shade darker than the woman, more of a honey brown than blond. His blue eyes sparkled behind the chunky glasses and his wedding band gleamed as he approached his wife. He embraced her tenderly from behind. She laughed and arched her neck, planting a sweet kiss upon his cheek. Familiar green eyes met her husband’s with the same loving emotion, and she rocked against him; singing along with the last stanza of the song…

“Spread your tiny wings and fly away,

And take the snow back with you where it came from on that day.

The one I love forever is untrue,

And if I could you know that I would fly away with you.

Yeah, if I could I know that I would fly away with you.”

Daniel felt ill; the knot in this stomach twisted as he watched them sway back and forth. The husband ran his palms over his wife's stomach and whispered endearments into her ear.

Shit…there’s nothing I can do…they’re going to die, and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it…

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me? Ma’am? Sir?”

Even though he felt foolish for trying, he frowned in dismay when they paid no attention. They nuzzled each other like newlyweds. He looked around the apartment and wondered what time it was. He had lost track after the woman appeared, but instinct told him that within the next few minutes, this adorable family moment would be shattered. Picking up the bat, he glanced at the clock, his heart speeding along: 1:01 AM.

His eyes roamed the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he felt something amiss. Sweeping back and forth, his gaze fell upon the far wall of the living room; the one that faced his bedroom in 303. A dark stain marred the surface, resembling a big, squashed bug. Daniel squinted his eyes at it, but the lamplight made the details fuzzy.

“I love that song; you don’t mind if I play it again do you?” the woman said, a coy smile upon her lips. The man chuckled and gave her a quick peck on the forehead.

“Of course not darling; it’s only one in the morning, the walls thin as paper, and light sleepers besiege us on all sides,” he teased, “but…I’m sure the nine months pregnant will warrant some sort of clemency.”

“Thank you love,” she winked in gratitude, and placed the stylus at the beginning of the song. The words flowed again, louder this time, and she reclined on the couch with a soft moan. “Baby’s been kicking up a storm today; woke me up out of a sound sleep…the little rascal,” she said with affection, patting her belly.

“Goes to show he’ll be a feisty one,” the man said, giving her a proud wink.

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“Just wishful thinking,” he said with a sly grin. “But knowing my luck, we’ll have twin girls…maybe even triplets…“ he shuddered, putting his hand to his forehead in mock distress. “Can you imagine all the diaper changes? The horror!”

“Oh stop it!” She shot him a playful glare, humming with the song.

The man laughed and looked toward the wall. Daniel’s heart froze as the man then frowned and peered at the stain much like Daniel had earlier. He raised his glasses and looked again, and then lowered them. Walking toward the wall, he leaned over, narrowing his eyes at the stain with puzzlement. His wife remained unaware, murmuring in bliss as she closed her eyes.

“What‘s this?”

She opened her eyes, that shade of green dazzling. “Mmmm?”

“Honey, I think there’s something here. Can you turn on the light so I can see better?”

“What? Oh, okay.” She leaned over, plucking the string of the lamp beside her. Light shone in rainbow hues; the stained glass lampshade reflected like a prism, with blues and greens diffusing upon the wall where her husband now stood.

Daniel’s posture was stiff; his gaze trained on the man as he poked at the stain and scratched at it with his fingernail. “Stop doing that!” Daniel said aloud, gazing fearfully at the wall. “Stop it! Something’s going to--”

With a sudden slurp, the man’s hand disappeared.

They both stared at the missing limb, the effect almost comical as the man blinked and did a double take. No pain registered on his face--only stunned disbelief. He tugged his arm back, but the stain held fast. Black began spreading around his wrist; the center resembled dark mud.

No longer amused with the situation, the man pressed his other hand against the wall, giving a hard yank at the one submerged. His struggles went unnoticed as his wife dozed on the couch and the song swallowed his frustrated yelps.

Daniel approached--stopped, then inched forward; the whites of his eyes seen as the stain suddenly swirled and convulsed--gulping the husband’s elbow with a sloppy crunch.

Daniel’s face went ashen, and the man staggered, his cry of pain snatched by the music. The man’s eyes lost focus for a moment and unbalanced, his body sagged against the wall.

Oh my God…

Daniel edged toward him, his eyes flitting from the man to his wife, the desire for her to remain asleep ambivalent with the hope she would wake and aid her husband.

You fool; you know they both die…said the cruel voice inside Daniel’s head. He lowered the bat, watching as the man became animate again--thumping at the wall with sudden flourish, his face bleach white and agony stealing his voice when his arm twisted within its socket. The song played on, and the wife slept, and Daniel stood there feeling as useless as broken china. What could he do? They were both fated to die, and nothing he did here would change that. He then realized how stupid he was for rushing over here, not a hero as intended, but only an observer and witness to the event as it unfolded. Hearing the screams was one thing--seeing the macabre display was another.

The stain spread again, rivers of shadow upon roses, viscous fluid oozing down the wall. The man coughed and choked, then inhaled sharply--unleashing a hoarse scream.

His wife awoke with a start. She stared about in confusion until her pale eyes fell upon her husband and the black syrup flowing over his arm. She gaped; blinking several times as if unconvinced she was truly awake. Wet slaps punched through his cries as her husband beat the wall with his other fist, the rest of his body thrashing like a fish on a hook. Tears and sweat coated his face; shrill screams clawed from his throat, his glasses falling to the floor and cracking.

How can no one hear that?

No one came to investigate; the door stayed silent and the wife perched at the edge of the sofa, frozen in place like a small, frightened bird.

Even though it was useless, Daniel tried approaching the man again--but when he neared, he felt this indescribable wave of nausea flow through him. It raked and pinched his insides. He retreated as the wife struggled to stand, her hand clutching the underside of her stomach. She shouted her husband’s name in disbelief, still trying to make sense of what she saw.

“Peter?” she blinked, then flinched as he gave a wild yell and jerked his arm violently. Daniel could tell she tried to rationalize all of this, not quite believing the wall was eating her husband. “Peter, what’s happening? Am I dreaming?”

Peter strained, every cord in his neck ready to burst through his skin and his eyes locked onto hers with animal desperation, breath hitching in spasms. He reached toward her with his free hand, fingers trembling, and his voice weak.

“Vivian, hel--help me…”

Peter’s struggles grew feeble as the stain leeched his strength, and his cries tapered into mewling whimpers. The hole spread further; eerie sounds now wavered from the muck, sighs and whispers strummed through the air. Tendrils lifted from the wall, curling around captured flesh and slid skin from bone. The moist sounds made Daniel wince and step back, shaking his head in denial as Peter convulsed and shrieked. Black goo now slurped against the side of his body, strings of red seen as he tried to pull away. With one last, broken spasm, Daniel saw the light fade from Peter’s eyes; watched as he slumped boneless against the muck. Then the wall yawned; goo fanned and enfolded Peter’s body with a snap--swallowing him whole.

“PETER!” Vivian cried, stumbling forward, her hands reaching out…

“No! You stupid girl! He’s dead! Dead! Run to the fucking door! Don’t go near that thing!” Daniel waved the bat at her like a flagman, not caring if she saw him or not.

As if heeding his advice, Vivian stopped and stared at the ichor-like substance, her mouth hanging open and eyes darting across as if waiting for her husband to re-emerge alive and well. A low whine erupted from the muck; large holes appeared like sores and fluid trickled down the surface and splattered over the carpet. Her breath caught and survival instinct kicked in; she bolted for the door, golden hair flying.

Daniel followed; glancing back to gauge how swiftly the black stretched across the walls and ceiling. He watched as it snaked over the floor like dark vipers, tongues flickering red. The wailing began with a squealing gurgle, like wind whistling over glass before launching into the full out howl that Daniel remembered so well.

He hovered behind while Vivian twisted the door handle, jerking, pulling and then sobbing when it refused to turn. She pounded on the door, sweat soaking through her nightgown and her cries for help engulfed by the banshee wails. Daniel’s heart sank as he realized the door would not open; some otherworldly force kept her trapped and helpless; easy prey for that creature in the wall.

Having no luck with the doorknob, Vivian gave up and fled down the hallway; Daniel heard the bedroom door slam the next instant, her crying muffled and the sound of furniture thumped as she barricaded herself.

Well, you could have waited for me damn it…

Daniel spun around, his breath coming with harsh pants. The living room had transformed from retro to nightmare; every surface crawled with plasma and ceiling dripped like black rain. Coalescing above him, the liquid stank like old blood and wove serpent-like down the walls and over furniture. Puddles of the stuff burped and spewed as it collected, defying gravity as it swirled back toward the ceiling like sluggish water spouts.

He backed away as human heads crowned the ooze; multiple skulls that squirmed for release. With a wet, tearing sound, they broke through the membrane. All wailing then rose to a shriek, causing Daniel to drop the bat and cover his ears in pain. The carpet moved under his feet as black squiggling things crept over his shoes. He bleated in disgust and moved further down the hall. He stared back at the bat in dismay, the gleaming metal lost under the ebony tide, and worried that his father’s heirloom was gone forever. It was such a random, stupid thought, especially in light of the current situation--but one he had nonetheless.

Pressing his back against the bedroom door, Daniel shook as half-formed people contorted from the shadows; they circled a central mass of fluid that flowed thick in the middle of the room like some backwards water fountain. As he watched, the blob shaped itself, writhing spasmodically one moment, and then graceful the next. Two arms, lithe torso and a faceless head arched from the mound, each limb waving like a tired dancer. A smooth face fluttered, jaw line vaguely feminine and head bald. The figure's lower half meshed with the black sludge on the floor and gave it the appearance of some dark Venus. Daniel stared, petrified, as the howling people suddenly recoiled from the woman thing, crawling away as if terrified of her. She ignored them, her head swaying as she perceived the direction of the bedroom--and began gliding forward. Like tiny, darting blades, she gave a mouthless sigh, and the tortured souls behind her clawed the walls in agony. Wide, dripping wings sprouted from her back, tenuous, grazing the sides of the hallway as she came.

Daniel flattened himself against the wall, forgetting to breathe--forgetting to think as blind fear numbed his senses. His breath hit the air and froze, ice droplets falling and merging with the creature’s body as she brushed past. His skin felt like insects crawled upon it, their wings beating and pricking. All time slowed as her reluctant cavalcade of souls passed through and over him, intangible mindless spirits. His heart stuttered in his chest as they dove into his body, filling him with brief flashes of unspeakable pain and grief, of moments fraught with savage emotions. He suddenly wanted to tear flesh, feel blood ooze from his hands; he wanted to hear the crunch of bone, the snap of ribs breaking--feel his thumbs gouge the soft jelly of eyes. He wanted screams; he wanted agony. All these feelings rose like a tide, swirling inside until he thought he would burst.

He convulsed when they withdrew and sagged to the floor, sobbing. The she-creature did not hear him, too intent was she upon the door that Vivian hid behind. He could hear Vivian crying and screaming from the bedroom, begging for her child‘s life.

How can no one hear?

Daniel groaned and his body twitched on the floor as black tendrils coated his hands and underside. They felt cold, like someone poured ice water over him. He twisted his head, watching as the creature and her souls penetrated the door, easing through like wraiths. The shrieking within the room became overwhelming, hysterical, and he curled into a ball, shielding himself from the sounds. He was thankful he could not see what it did to her; that no grisly images would taint his memory of how she had looked before.

Tearing sounds erupted from the door, grinding, and Daniel cringed with every bout; Vivian’s screams gurgled to a halt and he let out a shaky breath in relief. At least her suffering was over…

But what if she and Peter joined those souls? What if they never escaped?

He shuddered with those thoughts, rose to his knees and wiped the black fluid from his hands and clothes. It clung, staining his garments and left red marks on his flesh. He blinked, feeling sick as the door swung open--slowly, and with an exaggerated creak. The breath caught in his throat as he saw the red upon the walls, gristle and tissue coating them like thick paint. His stomach heaved and he covered his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.

The thing faced him, its face peering down at something on the floor and head canted in curiosity.

Oh no…the baby.

He came forward, his perception skewed and his head pounding in protest. The creature projected an aura similar to Walter and his doll--but the intensity felt a hundred times more. He could only approach halfway before falling to his knees, black spots frolicking in front of his eyes. The black sludge moved on the floor, revealing a diminutive bundle of pale skin. Streaked with blood and fluid, the little limbs jerked angrily and a mewling sound erupted from the small form. The creature regarded the infant as the baby sucked a lungful of air--howling a cry worthy of the souls surrounding it. While the child screamed and kicked, a piece of flesh flopped to the side of the baby’s stomach, trailing blood along the floor. The umbilical cord.

Daniel felt a rush of anger, fierce, burning--but it died the next instant when the she-thing dipped her hand, brushing the child’s forehead. She wove her head back and forth, the movements reminding Daniel of a mother bird.

“Ah…” she said, her voice ringing his ears and caused him to recoil as if slapped. With no mouth to utter words, he wondered how she could speak--let alone have a voice that could shatter glass. The child fell silent, wide eyes focused on the thing above him with fascination. Daniel could not understand why the infant behaved that way; it seemed unnatural. Did she enthrall the child somehow?

The she-creature bent forward, her essence rolling and drifting in the air; she lowered one finger to the child’s forehead, tapered point pressing gently. Squirming, the child pinched his face in dismay and whimpers escaped, soft and feeble as she spoke: “Innocence is only a temporary reprieve little one. Easily faded…as tangible as breeze,” her souls quieted with those words, floating now like smoke. “Blood calls from within, flesh and power promised long ago…I will collect when the time is right…remember me.”

Voices swirled in the air, and at first, Daniel thought the souls spoke; yet, as he listened, he realized he heard Peter’s voice. He winced as the words snapped above the child like whips, cruel and hateful--completely unlike the original source.

“I told you we shouldn't have a baby, didn't I?”

“Oh, shut the hell up! You can't blame it all on me!”

“Hurry up -- get packed!”

“Stupid little crybaby…”

The baby began screaming, tiny fists curled and legs shaking. Withdrawing her finger, the creature rose to a standing position, the air of satisfaction palpable around her. “No peace until you return…“

Daniel felt that anger again, and he glared in the thing’s direction, revolted that she manipulated this child into thinking his parents abandoned him. He knew who that baby was; he knew now why ‘Walter’ considered room 302 sacred--this creature was the first damn thing he saw.

Stumbling to his feet, he shrugged off the clinging ooze and retreated into the living room. All he wanted to do was get out of this place--he had seen enough. He had a strong inkling that she-demon was what Walter considered his “Mother.” It all made sense, but then the madman’s words whispered in his ears…

“Only Mother loves you…this door will only open when you‘re ready to embrace her!”

He froze. It took him a few moments to realize that all wailing had stopped--both baby and souls. He paused at the mouth of the hall, his hands shaking. Daniel turned his head and gazed behind. His breath choked in his throat. Every soul stared in his direction--silent and drifting around “Mother.” She cocked her head, the sound audible as she regarded him with candid interest.

No…this is the past…she can’t see me…she can’t see me…

Yet, she did “see” him; in fact--she now glided toward him. She sighed in delight, and souls slithered over the walls like eager shadows.

“Daniel…”

He staggered back and the sludge on the floor swallowed his legs. His balance compromised, Daniel shouted in terror as he fell, his arms smacking the viscous guck with a soft ‘splat’ sound. Thick liquid seeped over his skin and clung; stealing his strength--paralyzing him. The souls gibbered and sighed, their dead eyes reminding him of hungry vultures. They surrounded his prone form, some swaying in the air, others crawling on the floor--yet, they did not touch him.

Then ‘she’ approached.

The air tingled like fingers digging, and cold pressure bore down as she weaved closer. Gasping, he felt his breath flee, lungs straining as if squeezed by a vice. Her wings dipped to his sides, lithe form undulating above him and that faceless mask impassive, appraising. Giving a hoarse cry, he looked away as she descended, her breath a burning vapor against his neck. His skin felt tight-- as if it would crack apart, ooze like the walls, that he would dissolve into nothingness, a memory lost and empty.

“Never meaningless, Child of Sin…” she said sweetly, her mind echoing his thoughts. Her voice swirled like wind inside his head--dead wind, riddled with thorns. “…you are more precious to me than you know…”

He whimpered as her face nudged him, warmth flowing from the ear that she breathed against and his head felt ready to explode. There was a sense that he and she could not--should not exist in the same space, or time. That feeling of foreign presence--of unnatural existence drifted over him, but he could not avoid her touch.

She invaded his thoughts now; her mind like a hungry mouth, exploring, tasting. Her breath entered his lungs like rancid air, smothering, and then seeped into his core. Like water, she made herself a part of him, fusing her essence with his. Memories of his muse surfaced then, her voice and manner--the teasing way she goaded his obsessions. The feeling of déjà vu was strong, as if he ‘recognized’ that Mother and his muse were the same--and that he had seen this demon before…somewhere…

“Yes…you have always known me Daniel…by blood…the first act of vengeance…”

He felt his face frown, but the motion seemed detached, far away. “I don’t understand…”

“You will…”

“No…never mind,” he thought, “I don’t want to understand…”

A soft chuckle, loving and cruel.

“You shall…and then the world will suffer…”

“Why? Why must everyone suffer? Why did you kill Vivian and Peter? What are you?”

“I am light. I am salvation. All will be cleansed with fire and darkness…only then can paradise rise…”

“You have no right…”

“I… have…every…right…” She hissed, and he felt his ear pop; the sudden pain making him jerk and blood flowed thick down his neck. He cringed; wishing he could sink into the floor as she strained against him like a greedy lover, his body freezing beneath and sanity on the edge of breaking. His consciousness grew hazy, indistinct, but he sensed her power clearly, strumming inside him like a plucked harp. For a moment, his soul and body felt pulled in different directions, one gravitating toward Mother, the other clinging to this plane of existence. He whimpered and jerked beneath her, his limbs twitching under the stress. She gave a pleased sigh and then drifted away, her parting words harbingering something dark and foreboding.

“Yes child…soon…twelve chimes, then all unravel…like fragile threads of bone and flesh. Eleven left ‘til all is said, and the doors of heaven open…”

Daniel shivered, blood cooling on his throat, and ooze dissipating like black snow. He lay there weak and drained, watching as roses reappeared on the wallpaper, and furniture reverted to its original state. The demon had left--but he could still feel her; she lingered in the cracks, in the crevices of this room--she always had a way inside now, a door that never closed. This room was cursed.

As if mocking his thoughts, the room groaned and reverted to its tainted façade, the smell of mildew and old carpet crawling up his nose. He lay there on his side, ear feeling plugged with cotton and throbbing. Rolling over and attempting to stand, Daniel winced as his legs buckled, but caught himself on the edge of the kitchen counter. He braced against it, panting, and then carefully probed his injured ear. Drying blood, sticky and flaking coated the side of his neck and stained the collar of his shirt. The inner part felt swollen, and he mused that his eardrum probably ruptured. He had suffered something similar as a child, and it had healed in a few weeks. However, back then his ear had not bled as it did now, and it concerned him--the hearing loss even more so. He hoped there was no permanent damage.

Wiping the blood off his fingers, Daniel gave his surroundings a brief appraisal. Looking down the hallway, he noticed the infant had disappeared, as well as the black gunk and blood smell. He prayed these signs were an indication the vision had ended and he was free to leave. He wanted out of 302 and out of this building before Walter, or that ‘Mother’ entity came for him again. However, thinking about that creature made Daniel frown. He wondered why she did not kill him when she had the chance. All she really accomplished was making him feel like shit, sprout some nonsense about ‘twelve chimes,’ and then how ’precious’ he was. What did she mean? Why did she not claim him as Walter said she would?

The apartment door creaked and Daniel swung around, his world tipping as his ear pressure became unstable. He stared at the door, uncomprehending when he saw it remained shut tight. What had made that sound?

He stared around him, but found nothing in the gloom. Distant murmuring rose: quiet at first, but then grew in volume. Panic spiraled inside him as he searched for the cause and stumbled out into the middle of the living room. He eyed the walls in fear. Was it coming back? What it starting all over again? Was he trapped forever in this loop--a part of the past now instead of an observer?

Terror made his throat constrict as the murmuring shifted into muttering. But the speaker sounded familiar. He took a step forward, cocking his good ear to listen. In that moment, rustling and footsteps sounded behind him, and he had no time to react as hands appeared out of nowhere, clasped his shoulders and jerked him backwards out the now opened door.

He fought and shouted as his attacker shoved him against the hallway wall--not realizing that it was ‘Frank’ who pinned him firmly--and that it was Frank who now bellowed in his face, outrage and relief combining to form a volatile mixture of emotion. He shouted his question, pulling the front of Daniel’s shirt to bring him closer. Dumbfounded, Daniel just stared in disbelief, too overwhelmed to speak. Frank snarled and gave him a hard little shake, white hair clashing with the violent red of his cheeks as he repeated what he had just said.

“Damn it! Answer me Daniel! What in God‘s name are you doing in this ROOM?”