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THE WALLS HAVE EYES

" I s there anything we can do to manage her state of mind? It's not normal," my husband whispers out the words. "This is not normal. She almost drowned. The ground worker thankfully heard her screaming, 'my baby…'"

I force myself to go back to sleep, to stop listening to my husband grow sick of me. Will he take my baby?

"The baby is what matters," he says, his voice cold and final. Surprising me, the shock of his words causes me to wrap my arms around my stomach as the life inside me moves.

"I know," he whispers before the water turns on. Only then do I open my eyes. My gaze zeros in on a small piece of wallpaper not glued on properly. The white Damask design sticks out, showing more wallpaper underneath—stained, weathered from time.

I try to close my eyes, but all I hear is his words.

Is he growing tired of me? Will he take our baby and leave me?

Finally, curiosity pulls me out of my thoughts. Removing the peach-colored comforter from me, I silently slip out of bed. Just before I crouch to take a closer look at the paper, the floorboard creaks beneath my bare foot. I stand, shifting my weight. It’s definitely not right. Crouching once again, I move slightly, giving myself full access to the board as I lift it.

There’s a box.

I look behind me. The water is still running.

So I resume.

Digging my hand into the small rectangle, I pull out a black velvet box covered in debris. Gently blowing on the box, I open it. A newspaper clipping is inside.

"Husband slain... pregnant wife not found."

A pregnancy test. A sonogram. The name—scratched out from the top. What the fuck.

"Mi Reina. Are you okay?"Rey’s voice booms behind me, startling me and causing every hair on my body to stand up. A sense of eeriness washes over me. I don’t look behind me. Carefully, I try to shove the box back into its place as footsteps sound behind me. And silently praying he didn’t notice. I hear him sigh. He must think I’m not well again. Annoyance washes over me. There’s something odd about this house.

I can feel it.

I feel Rey’s body lower behind me.

"Are you okay?"

Pulling at the wallpaper, I lie, "This is bothering me," hoping he will believe me. He takes a deep breath in my hair. "Then I’ll ask Josh to repair it."

"Okay," I sigh, sinking into his embrace. His arms wrap around me, rubbing over my active daughter. She kicks his hand as he holds us both.

"I think we should up your medicine," he whispers, catching me off guard.

He knows how I feel about them. I pull away, my eyes catching on the barely noticeable bruise on his collarbone, followed by small, lunar scratches.

I slap him.

"Who is she?"

"Who is what? Serena." His eyes widen as he takes me in.

"Who is she?" I ask again.

But Rey shakes his head, pushing back his wet, salt-and-pepper hair.

"I have to go to work. I told Josh to keep an eye on you. Next week, your nurse will start coming. And we will up your meds."

For the first time since being married, he speaks to me like I’m his child.

Not his wife.

Not his equal.

Just something to take care of.

After he left, I went back to sleep and then decided to take my mother’s advice. Maybe I needed to be more. Always more. More. More.

Cutting up the onion, I focus on the window, expecting to see the woman from yesterday, but all I see is him. Using an axe to cut up wood, on the clearing of the fields, no shirt, sweating and looking sinful. I should be ashamed, trying to be a good wife while checking out the man who works on our grounds. Then a small kick inside me brings me back to reality, and I snap out of it.

Continuing my work, I’m making pot roast and leaving it to cook. Maybe I can get things back to how they were. A good dinner and some sex can bring us whatever it is we are losing. From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow, catching the small hint of white fabric before it disappears into the hallway exiting the kitchen. Placing the knife down on the chopping board, I follow the footsteps.

Maybe I should have grabbed the knife…

Maybe Rey is right, and I’m losing my mind.

"Hello?" I whisper softly, when I hear a large crash somewhere upstairs, causing me to freeze. Slowly, I creep around the living room, stopping at the end of my stairs, watching as the small wind-up car falls down the stairs. A scream escapes my throat, and I fall back on my ass, my eyes drifting to the elongated mirror on the wall?—

And I see her.

The woman dressed in white, her face beautiful... her brown skin littered with small cuts, a busted lip, her dress torn. She looks at me and terror washes over me as dead glassy eyes stare at my womb, and then she reaches for me.

No.

My stomach clenches, and I clutch it protectively.

"No." I say out loud as she inches closer. Her hand moves towards her flat stomach, and I see the deep burgundy stain that trails down her white, tattered dress.

"No," I shout louder as I crawl backward, trying to avoid her touch, but she looks past me.

Her sole focus is my swollen belly.

"No!" I scream, squeezing my eyes shut.

And just when I think I’m done for, strong, calloused hands grab mine, pulling me into him.

Lavender and sweat. Not an unpleasant scent at all—it is calming.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks.

I pull away, dreading to look into those icy-blue eyes.

"I am. How did you get in here?"

"The door was unlocked, and I heard you screaming."

I nod, brushing off imaginary dust from my short denim dress.

"Josh. Can I call you Josh?"

"That’s my name, of course," he says with a charming smile as he removes the baseball cap, pushing his curls back.

"What did you know about the previous owner?"

Josh’s face goes blank; his voice almost changes when he answers. "Why do you ask?"

I regret instantly asking. "I don’t know… curiosity."

"Look, Mrs. Garcia?—"

"Call me Serena."

He lets out a shaky breath. "Look, Serena, don’t go looking for answers you don’t wanna know."

"What does that mean?"

He shrugs and offers me a small smile. "It means that tragedy happened here. I wasn’t working here at the time. The real estate company offered me the job after the murder."

My hand moves to my neck, my eyebrows knitting together. "Murder?"

He nods.

"Yes. It looks like the husband was killed, and the wife and his unborn child were never seen again."

I continue to massage my neck, wondering why Rey never told me about the house’s history.

"Thank you for telling me," I add.

"If that’s all, I’ll be heading out now. Have a good afternoon, Serena."

He smiles, and I return it, watching as he heads toward my front door. My eyes return to the spot where the woman stood.

"Who are you?" I whisper to nothing.