Layla
I have a type, I’ll admit. Tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. Dalton, unfortunately, checks off all of those boxes, even if our introductory conversation took an abrupt turn.
He obviously picked up on my irrational fear of the house somehow and decided to spin it to his advantage. I got the sense, during our short time together in the kitchen, that he enjoyed trying to scare me.
After my conversation with Curtis, I’d come to the conclusion that the house might just harbor bad memories but not ghosts and ghouls. I’d never outwardly admit that I’m more in tune with the energy of certain places, but after working in hospitals my entire career, I’ve often wondered if the things I’ve seen and heard held weight and weren’t just tricks of my mind.
Still, having someone else in the house now makes me feel slightly more secure in my surroundings as I go through my nightly routine with Aunt Penny.
She’s not nearly as lively tonight as she was during the storm last night. Her eyelids are heavy as I sit in the chair and read another three chapters of the novel we started a few days ago. Her slow, rhythmic heartbeat sends soft beeps through the room as I feel my eyes starting to sag, the room around me going dark around the edges. I only got a few hours of sleep today, and it’s not enough.
I set the book down and rub my eyes before glancing over at my aunt. It’s 3:00 in the morning, and she’s asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful and her hands folded over her lap.
“I’ll come check on you in a little while,” I tell her and turn off the remaining light in the room before crossing the hallway into my own room, shutting the door behind me and locking it.
Darkness sweeps over the space, nothing but moonlight illuminating my unmade bed. The floorboards creak as I walk to the bed and slide into the moon drenched covers, pulling them up to my chin.
But I lie awake with my eyes wide open, afraid to close them.
Dalton mentioned dreams earlier. He also called me Angel, just like the stranger in my dream had whispered while he fucked me. My body tightens at the memory. Unlike my usual, fractured dreams, these felt so real, and I remembered every moment after I woke up.
I need to sleep. I need a few solid hours of rest, or I could very well lose my mind, just like Curtis said. I’m afraid I’m already halfway there when the creaking of the pipes begins, mingling with my ragged breath. I pull the covers higher, as if they can shield me from every bump and scratch in the night.
Is Dalton awake upstairs, painting?
Does he hear that strange, rhythmic scratching sound too?
I close my eyes, and my body relaxes into sleep, my mind drifting in darkness for a long time.
“I keep telling you to stay out of this,” Dalton says, his voice far away and distorted. I turn to him, and the dining room comes into view, the wallpaper glistening and trembling like it’s come alive. “I warned you, Layla, what would happen–”
“I don’t care,” I tell him, walking toward him, running my fingertips over his broad, chiseled chest.
“You love these games, don’t you, Angel?” he whispers into my ear, his dark brown hair tickling my cheek. “Fear turns you on, doesn’t it?”
I let out my breath in a whimper as his hands clutch my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“You love being hunted, don’t you?”
I practically purr with anticipation when his hands graze over my ass and thighs.
“Do you want me to hunt you down and have my way with you, Angel?”
Suddenly, I’m outside of the house. It’s dark and raining so hard I can feel the icy, unforgiving droplets slicing into my skin. I’m running, sprinting for my life, but my body won’t move fast enough. It’s like I’m moving in slow motion, and whatever’s behind me is gaining on me. I trip, falling an impossible distance down to the ground through total darkness.
“I warned you this wouldn’t end well for us. I tried to help you. I tried to save you.”
I wake with a start, my body coated in sweat and a throbbing ache between my thighs. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes as the room around me comes into view. It’s still dark, the moonlight now fractured by heavy clouds. Rain drizzles down the warped windows as I slide my legs out of bed and stretch my arms over my head. I’d set my alarm for 6:00 A.M., but it’s only 5:00, which means I slept for at least three hours.
That’s good enough for now. Good enough to feel slightly refreshed, anyway.
“Why keep playing?”
I freeze, blinking into the darkness.
“Amos–”
The tablet on my dresser lights up, a soft alarm going off to alert me of movement in my aunt’s room. I pad across the floorboards, careful not to make any noise, and snatch the tablet off the dresser. I pull up the video feed, then her vitals, which are normal. The room is empty, dark, and silent. Am I still dreaming?
“What do you gain from this?” Aunt Penny asks, her words clear and sharp. A chill licks up my spine as I watch the video feed, unable to blink.
Who is she talking to?
“Go away. Leave me be.” Her lips barely move, and her eyes are closed.
Silence settles, but I sit on the edge of my bed looking down at the tablet for another twenty minutes before I finally set it down and rest my face in my hands. She’d just been dreaming, that’s all. I rarely hear her speak, so it’s strange when she does. That’s it.
Footsteps in the hallway break me out of my downward spiral. They come to a halt in front of my door, and I jump when a sharp knock echoes through my room. “H-Hello?”
The door swings open, and Dalton steps inside my room, his body taking up the threshold as he looks around, a cup of coffee in his hand. He lifts it to his lips as he peers around the room–at the suitcase I’ve yet to fully unpack and my messy vanity, then my unmade bed.
I swear I locked the door.
“Can I help you?” I ask, swallowing against the tightness in my throat as I glance at the tablet sitting beside me on the bed.
“I was just making sure you’re awake.” His eyes–the color of polished jade–meet mine, then slowly rake over my face. Dalton is exceedingly handsome, and he knows it. He oozes the kind of charm men who know they’re good looking have down to a fine science.
“I don’t need you to wake me up in the morning. I have an alarm set on my phone.”
He shrugs, leaning on the doorframe. “Sleep well?”
I narrow my eyes at him. He’s wearing an old black shirt and gray joggers that hug his muscled frame, his dark softly curled hair ruffled from sleep. Unshaven with his eyes slightly puffy, I gather he likely just woke up as well and that he didn’t sleep much either.
His mouth ticks up at the corners as he continues to stare at me. “What’s with the look?”
“What look?”
“You’re scowling at me.”
“You’re in my room right now, uninvited.”
With an arch of a dark brow, he drawls, “Are you saying you’d invite me to your room sometime, Angel?”
“First of all,” I snap, rising from the bed with my hands firmly planted on my hips, “my name is Layla, not Angel. In fact, you can call me Miss Bryant or Nurse Bryant.” Dalton is nothing but amused as I continue, “Secondly, get out of my room!”
“Lock the door next time.” He gives me a devilish smile and turns toward the hallway.
“I did lock the door.” My voice cracks, giving way to that creeping, anxious fear I’ve been trying to keep tamped down since I came to this place.
He looks at me over his shoulder, his expression shifting from saccharine charm to something darker, more knowing. “I think you’ll find that that doesn’t usually make a difference here.” With that, he simply walks away, leaving my door wide open.
I have it in mind to chase him down and ask what the hell he meant by that, but a soft alarm begins to ring through the room. It’s already 6:00 now. How had an hour passed so quickly without me realizing it?
“Shit,” I whisper, turning off the alarm and darting between the bathroom and my dresser as I pull on a pair of creamy taupe colored scrubs and pull my hair into a bun. The humidity makes my usually lackluster waves coil into curls around my shoulders, with a fluffy layer of frizz rising like a halo around my face. I ignore my reflection and stoop, pulling on my sneakers before leaving the room and hurrying downstairs to start the last few hours of my shift.
But to my surprise, Vera, the weekend nurse, is already in the supply room filling a tray with my aunt's morning medications.
“V-Vera!” I gasp, startled by her presence.
Vera turns around, looks me up and down, and turns back to her work. “Did you forget what day it was?”
I blink, watching the older woman flutter around the room for a moment. Metal shelves reach to the plastered ceiling, everything washed in gray early morning sunlight, highlighting the silver streaks in Vera’s pin-straight hair that dusts over her narrow, impossibly slim shoulders. Vera can’t be more than one hundred pounds. I’m on the short side at five foot three, but Vera looks to be much shorter than me.
She hustles past me while I try to get my bearings. “It’s–it’s Saturday?”
“Yes.” Vera nods, rolling her eyes. “Very good. What happens on Saturday?”
I don’t like her patronizing tone, but this is just Vera. She doesn’t like anyone, especially me. “It’s your shift but–but you’ve never been here this early–”
“Miss Bailey is picking you up to go to New Orleans this weekend, remember?”
“Oh, shit, I forgot.” I run my hand over my face, peeking at her through my fingers. “Wait, no, she said the trip was in like, two weeks?”
Vera gives me an exasperated look and motions her hand toward a calendar hanging on the wall beside her head. “Are you losing your mind, Miss Bryant?”
I might be. I step forward, my eyes locked on the calendar. How is it almost July already? Had weeks seriously passed without me realizing it? I swear the last time I spoke to Bailey had been yesterday after her shift, and she asked me to go on this trip with her… two weeks from now.
I blow out my breath and look down at Vera, who is examining my expression carefully. “I didn’t get much sleep the last few days, I think. I must have forgotten about this entirely.”
Vera’s dark eyes search mine before she says, “She won’t be here until eleven. Go back to sleep after filling me in on your shift.”
I nod, my fingertips prickling as unease drifts over my skin, making me shiver. “It was a quiet night. Her vitals were fine, everything in the green. She did… she did talk to herself this morning, loud enough it activated the cameras in her room.” I hand Vera the tablet.
“She must be feeling well, then. She rarely talks anymore. That new blood pressure medication must be working as intended.”
“It’s making it hard for her to sleep, though–”
“Her doctor is making a trip to Hahnville next week. I’m sure Bailey will bring it up to him.” Vera walks away without another word, leaving me utterly alone in the supply room.
I scratch my head as I look back at the calendar, unsure of what to think, what to do.
“Coffee,” I breathe. That’s what I need right now.
The kitchen isn’t empty when I walk into the room with the startlingly green vinyl floor. Dalton stands by the sink, washing several paintbrushes as he looks out the back window with a blank expression. Blood red paint swirls down the drain. I ignore his presence and pour myself some coffee and walk right out the back door, sitting down on the steps.
I watch the sunrise over the cypress grove and cemetery in the distance, light pink and gold rays of morning sun falling in ribbons over the marsh that hugs the house.
Something is wrong with this place, I decide. And whatever it is, it’s sunk its claws into me.
I can’t let that continue to happen.