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18

Discouraged

Gwen

G wen was in the process of placing the bananas onto the kitchen counter when she first heard the knock.

At first, she thought it was the delivery driver.

Perhaps he had forgotten another bag of groceries?

No, Gwen had checked all the bags and nothing appeared to be missing.

She even had her black hair dye sitting at the other end of the counter.

Gwen tilted her head toward the ceiling.

The sound could have been her boring sex neighbors.

Occasionally, she would hear them moving around their apartment while talking.

One of them had a heavy footfall compared to the other.

When nothing came from that direction, Gwendolyn shuffled to the front door to check the peephole.

An anxious thought crept to the surface as she neared.

Could it have been Sticky Fingers?

Was he behind the door waiting to return her unwanted package?

Carefully, Gwen moved her face towards the peephole, breath shaky as she dared look.

As she gazed into the small opening, all she could see was the empty hallway that led towards the elevator.

Gwen pulled back, eyeing the door suspiciously.

Was this another weird demon thing?

If it was, Gwendolyn wasn’t sure if it was part of the usual stuff, or if this was the result of her having surrendered the doll and scroll case to her neighbor.

Gwen closed her eyes, focusing on listening to her surroundings for a moment.

Maybe it had been a neighbor getting their own delivery, and the sound had traveled to her room.

But Gwen didn’t hear the knock again, and brushed it off as just that.

To keep herself from overthinking, Gwen finished putting away her groceries and noticed the small pile of dirty dishes in her sink.

She wouldn’t label herself a slob, but Gwen tended to let chores fall aside because she was too hyperfixated with creating her dolls.

It was one of the reasons why she ate so many microwaved meals.

Fewer dishes to clean meant fewer distractions.

Can’t ignore this anymore, Gwen thought as she eyed the pile of dirty dishes.

She tackled what dishes she could, loading them in the dishwasher, but left half of the dishes in the sink to soak.

Gwen wasn’t sure why, but cleaning her apartment made her feel accomplished.

It was something she could control, unlike her weird cravings and the newly acquired impulses she had become more aware of.

Might as well, Gwen thought as she stared at the dirty kitchen counter.

She scrubbed the counter clean, and when she noticed her table was just as dirty, she went ahead and wiped the table down as well.

Naturally, she noticed the dust bunnies in the corners of her kitchen and figured she may as well clean that, too.

Gwen was in the process of sweeping when she heard it again.

Gwendolyn paused.

It was the same sound—a knock in a rhythmic pattern that Gwen recognized.

She couldn’t remember the name of it, only the repeating pattern that played out in her head.

Gwen glanced around her apartment, but could not locate the obvious origin of the sound.

When the knock happened again, Gwen froze as she counted them.

One, then two, then three, four, and five.

Five rhythmic knocks that seemed to end too soon.

Gwen took a deep breath as she gathered her nerves and slowly moved back toward the front door.

She placed her hands on the door and lifted her head once again to look through the peephole.

Before she could get a clear view, the knock came through again in one, then two, then three, four, and five.

Confident, strong knocks that had grown louder.

No, not just louder, Gwen realized.

It wasn’t coming from the front door, but from somewhere behind her .

She could feel a small bead of sweat growing beneath her bangs, felt a jolt of adrenaline pulse through her.

Would the doll be there?

Or something … worse?

Slowly, Gwen turned around.

She could not see anything, but Gwen had learned that seeing was not always what was important when it came to hauntings.

The bathroom door was shut because Gwen hadn’t wanted to see the constant reminder of Ambrosius’ presence in her apartment.

If she didn’t see the spiders, she wouldn’t have the urge to do something about them.

Come on, Gwen, don’t be a chickenshit, she thought.

There isn’t anything worse behind this door that you haven’t already seen the past few days .

Gwen reached out a tentative, shaky hand towards the bathroom door.

Her fingers were millimeters away from the doorknob when the knock came through again.

One.

Then two.

Then three.

Four.

Five.

Then silence.

The question now was, did she open the door and face what was behind it?

Or should she follow the impulse radiating from her hand?

She knew what old Gwen would have done, but she was unsure as to what this version of herself would do until she did it.

Gwen raised her hand into a fist, knocking back twice in a pattern that was meant to finish the tune.

Slowly, she dropped her hand, eyeing the door.

Silence.

I’m losing my mind.

Gwendolyn thought. I’m losing my mind to a demon.

Gwen wanted to step away and go back to cleaning her kitchen.

She wanted to mop her floor, but she couldn’t.

Something inside was demanding she open the door now.

That she couldn’t do it before, but now she needed to.

Terrible things came to mind when she thought of what could be behind the door.

Had the spiders taken over her bathroom completely?

Would she open the door to find that they had infested every inch of her bathroom?

Would she find a giant spider web waiting for her?

Would the colony eat her the way the kids from her childhood said cats would eat the little old ladies who owned them?

Gwen supposed there were worse ways to go, especially if she was no longer in her body.

But Gwen had no intention of being eaten by spiders today .

The smarter decision would be to leave the door.

A smarter decision would be to leave her apartment completely, perhaps even find a new place to live—a new city.

But even if she did run away, Gwen knew Ambrosius would still be able to find her, no matter where she went.

Maybe it was better to confront the thing that she’d been trying to run away from.

Before she could lose what little nerve she had left, Gwen grabbed the doorknob and opened the door as quickly as she could.

To her shock and horror, leaning in the door frame was the very demon that Gwen hated more than anything.

She had only a moment to register his teal corduroy jacket before he opened his mouth.

“I knew you’d answer, my bitter—”

Gwen shut the door.

“…sweet,” she heard him finish.

Fuck.

FUCK!

Panicked, Gwen darted to her front door, clumsily shoving her feet into a pair of sneakers as she went.

When she yanked the door open, she nearly ran her nose into the silver chains around Ambrosius’ neck.

Gwen gasped, jerking back to look up at him in disbelief.

“Really, Gwendolyn, is this—”

She shut the door.

“…necessary…”

The balcony!

It didn’t matter that she had no exit strategy once she got to the balcony.

All that mattered was getting as far away from Ambrosius as possible.

Gwen wasn’t much of a runner—though, a younger Gwen would have argued that skating was a form of running—but she crossed the distance to the balcony in no time.

She reached for the handle, sliding it open along with the vertical blinds, only for her eyes to widen .

Ambrosius was sitting on her patio chair, legs folded, as if he had been waiting for her the entire time.

“You’re being—”

Gwen didn’t bother sliding the door closed this time.

She sprinted to her bathroom door.

When Ambrosius wasn’t there, Gwen slipped inside, shutting the door with a slam behind her.

She locked the door and stepped away, anticipating that he would be right behind it.

Her mind raced as she tried to figure out how to get out of her bathroom.

There were no windows, as her studio was pressed against another.

Most of the apartments mirrored a neighbor’s.

Even if Gwen could smash through the wall like a sentient jar of sugar water, she would only end up in her neighbor’s bathroom.

Stop thinking about nonsense and start—

Suddenly, the door lurched as something slammed into it, causing her to jump involuntarily.

Gwen swore the wood had cracked as she backed further into her bathroom.

Was he…

Was he going to break the door?

! Gwen would never get her security deposit back!

Not to mention how much it would cost her to replace—

Another loud impact sent her stumbling backward.

She had definitely heard the wood crack that time.

Fuck, think Gwen!

Her eyes scanned the bathroom frantically before she rushed to the sink.

She pulled a drawer open and cursed when she didn’t find the scissors there.

Gwen hadn’t put it back after cutting her hair—she had foolishly taken it to her work table!

Falling to her knees, Gwen yanked the cabinet doors open.

It was sparse underneath, but Gwen found her target.

She could hear the door giving way as another hard hit echoed in the bathroom.

Gwen was running out of time .

Frantically, she yanked the rubber cup from the wooden handle.

It came off easily enough, since it was cheaply made and Gwen had picked it up at the dollar store.

Gwen dropped the rubber cup, tightening her hand around the wood.

It was an improvised weapon that she fully expected to fail, but at least it was something.

Gwen stood, weapon in hand and faced the door.

As another slam rocked against the door, she tightened her grip on the wooden handle.

Her heart was racing as she readied herself for the inevitable.

“Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream,” Gwen whispered to herself.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The silence was somehow worse than the violence done against her bathroom door.

Gwen eyed the doorknob.

The demon could have been lulling her into a false sense of security.

He could be waiting for her to get near the door, waiting to pounce on her like she was some kind of unsuspecting prey.

It infuriated her to think he saw her that way.

Like so many men had thought about her.

Fair game. Easy. Prey.

No, Gwen thought. If you want me, you come to me.

Slowly, she backed herself up until her heels hit the bathtub, eyes never leaving the bathroom door.

Gwen licked her lips and felt the rough bit of skin from her mostly healed lip.

She didn’t have to wait long.

The nightlight began to flicker, and Gwen could feel something behind her.

A sense—no, a tickle at the back of her neck.

Something as sharp as a needle danced up her spine.

Gwen had been ready for him to come through the bathroom door, not from behind her!

Quickly, Gwen spun on her heel, swinging her weapon hard where she guessed his ribs were .

Gwen missed.

A hand caught the wooden handle, but that wasn’t what stalled Gwen’s brain.

No, it was the fact that the hand that held her improvised weapon was not a hand at all.

Gwen wasn’t even sure if it could be considered human, every line was jagged and sharp.

The hand was twice the size of her own, with long, spindly, claw-like fingers stained obsidian.

The hand extended from behind her shower curtain.

Between the flickers of the light was an imposing dark shadow behind the shower curtain.

She couldn’t clearly make out the shape—it was too confusing the more Gwen looked at it.

But it was proportional to the hand that snapped her weapon with very little effort.

The pieces fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Gwendolyn…”

The unnatural voice from behind the curtain shook her.

Before Gwen could let her hand fall away with the broken end of the weapon, the monstrous hand was already moving.

She watched as the spindly fingers entwined with hers and felt the awful sting of the claws as they slid between each digit along the way.

The sharp points rested against the back of her wrist. Gwen knew if she tried to pull, he would shred her skin if they were to separate.

A chill went down her spine.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl,” the voice growled.

And something warm curled in her belly.