Chapter 40 Hello, neighbor!
VICTORIA
I gulped down the painkillers and rubbed my forehead, sighing.
Ever since what I saw last night, I haven't been at peace. The only thing on my mind was that man at the driveway.
“I'll find you, I promise," I muttered and picked up my bag. I took my car key from the table, unlocked the door, and then walked out of the house. My father sent another car to me yesterday.
I slammed the door shut and locked it, then dropped my head against the door. It felt like someone was driving several pins into my head. The painkillers didn't make me get better. Instead, it made it worse.
“Lord, I can't feel myself," I muttered as I gripped the sides of my head, doing a breathing exercise with the hope that I would calm down.
“Hey, neighbor!"
My heart skipped a beat, and I jumped in fear, spinning around to see who the nuisance was that had almost given me a heart attack.
I sighed loudly and brushed my hair back when my widened eyes fell on the woman next door.
“You?" I gasped loudly.
The woman stared at me with owlish eyes that narrowed over my body as if she was searching for something on my dress.
She finally straightened up and stopped her weird stare.
“What? Is it a crime to say hello to a neighbor?" She asked.
My heart skipped another beat as the scene from last night filled my head. The woman reminded me so much of the man standing in the driveway.
“First time you're saying hello to me. I thought we were enemies," I muttered, my brows raised.
"Enemies?” She scoffed, shaking her head with a smirk on her face.
“Do you have sugar? The idiot you brought to my house the last time took all my sugar,” she said.
My lips pursed in anger, and I clenched my fist. I didn't know why I was getting upset that she called Mr Thompson an idiot.
“I don't have sugar!" I snapped and sounded down the porch.
“What do you mean you don't have sugar? Don't you take tea? Coffee?”
I paused and glared at her.
“I don't take tea, and I prefer back coffee. Also, I've been too busy to have my groceries restocked!" I snapped.
Her lips twitched up with disdain, and she rolled her eyes.
“Too busy going out with that man," she mumbled as I walked past her.
I huffed and continued my walk towards my car, but stopped and spun around.
“Did you see the man standing by your driveway yesterday?" I asked.
Her head shot up at my question. She craned her neck back and stared at her empty driveway, as if she would find the man there.
“No!" She snapped when she turned to face me.
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair in disappointment.
“Okay," I muttered flatly.
"Was someone standing outside my house last night?” She asked when I turned around.
I faced her and nodded, pain scribbled across my face.
“He was standing right there," I pointed at the spot the man was standing on last night.
I was sure I saw dread dart across the woman's eyes when I said that.
She glanced at the driveway, then back at me again, her head shaking.
“I knew it!" She spat.
My eyes dimmed, and I drew closer, head tilting in curiosity.
“You know what?" I questioned calmly.
Within me, I wished that the woman would help me out somehow.
She must have seen the man leaving or walking down towards this place or…
“I knew this would happen when someone moved in. This house is haunted!"
My heart dropped into the pit of my belly when she said that.
“What?" I gasped loudly.
My head swerved towards my house, then back at the old woman.
“I don't believe in superstition–"
"It is no superstition!” The woman spat, and my lips clamped shut.
The woman drew closer until there was just an inch between us. She raised her head and stared deep into my eyes, exuding an eerie feeling that made the hairs on my skin stand.
“Whoever lives in that house never survives!" She spat, and my throat knotted.
This was ridiculous, but I still stayed out of curiosity.
“Why?" I asked, trying so hard not to let the mockery in my voice become obvious.
She swerved her head to the sides to be sure no one was watching before pointing at the house.
“Do you know what happened to the last neighbor?" She whispered.
My chest clenched, and goosebumps spread over my skin.
I was getting more invested in whatever thing she was saying now.
“What?" I asked.
"They were found dead. Everyone in the family died, including their little children,” she blurted out.
A horrified gasp escaped my lips, and I staggered back, hit down with fear and horror.
I swerved around and stared at the house, my eyes as wide as saucers.
I didn't know why, but I imagined footprints of blood on my porch. The thought made shivers rush down my spine.
People died in this house, and I never knew about it.
As I watched the house, filled with dread, the old woman's hand touched my shoulder, causing me to jump in fear.
I gasped and gripped my shirt, flushed up.
I didn't know why I was reacting this way over a murder story, but I couldn't help it.
It felt like what the woman was saying was true, even though it was all meaningless conclusions.
“What killed them?" I asked.
"Death!” She spat.
“I think you're seeing ghosts," she muttered. The fear bubbling in me disappeared, and I scoffed loudly.
I could believe the story of the house being haunted, but not the idea of seeing ghosts. I knew what I saw, and it definitely wasn't a ghost.
“No way, that's not a ghost, that's–"
"The woman saw it too,” she blurted out.
“What woman?" I asked.
"The woman who lived here before you. She said she always saw someone standing in my driveway and staring at her window with a cigarette in hand and a hat over his head,” she muttered, and my heart sank into the bottom of my belly.