Blind House, page 1
Blind House
Jamie-Lee Brooke
Copyright © 2021 Jamie-Lee Brooke
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any other means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copywrite law. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For Liam and Lewis who forever make me proud
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Epilogue
Chapter One
Blind House 1878
‘Why are you doing this? Do they know you’re-’
The Doctor struck her hard across the head, ‘From now on you are known as patient Number One, and I’m the Doctor. Say either of our actual names and you will meet more than my scalpel. Do you understand?’
Pain spiralled up Patient Number One’s legs, up and up towards the pain burning down her arms from the scalpel wounds. Random cuts to cleanse her body and mind. The Doctor put on a white coat then proceeded to make notes, detailing the scale of fear in the woman’s eyes and then on to drawing up a treatment plan.
‘First to get you in the appropriate attire. And this needs to come off.’ The Doctor grabbed a handful of the woman’s lengthy blonde hair.
The cuffs chained to her wrists bit into her flesh as she squirmed away from the scissors. Chunk by chunk her hair fell to the dirty stone flooring. Her tears fell to meet them. More notes were made before the Doctor produced the nightgown- plain and white and full in length.
‘Keep still.’ The Doctor unlocked the cuffs.
She allowed her blouse to be removed and the gown to be placed over her head, the long sleeves rapidly absorbing the blood from her bleeding arms. She screamed out, pulling away her own skirt. Moving her legs was excruciating. If she could take the opportunity to kick the Doctor in front of her now she would. She’d lash out, she’d fight, she would claw off that smug expression. But her legs were broken.
The cuffs were locked back into place; the Doctor knew that restraining her legs was unnecessary. Number One trembled as she watched the Doctor rummage through a box of equipment then pulled out a hessian sack. It was the look on the Doctor’s face that told her things were going to get much worse. Her sobs became uncontrollable as she begged to be left alone.
‘Please, I don’t know what I’ve done, please don’t. I’m sorry, whatever I did, please I need to go home, just let me- I promise I won’t tell...’
The Doctor ignored her and then placed the sack over her head before tying it securely with twine. Number One started to hyperventilate. She fractured her arm once; she’d fallen from a horse and spent some time recuperating at her parent’s house. It doesn’t matter how old you get, sometimes you just need your parents- and their dog. Speckles, their spaniel with her soft wavy ears. Dog’s know don’t they when you’re hurt? when you’re sad. Speckles knew. She’d snuggle into her bandaged arm, as if her soft fur and brown eyes could fix it. No one was here to fix this now. She needed her mother and father and she needed their dog. But they weren’t coming for her; they wouldn’t even know she was missing. No one would be looking.
‘This drowning technique is one method in ridding you of this lunacy.’ The Doctor pushed her to the floor and dragged a bucket of water over, before gradually tipping it onto the woman’s sack covered face.
Number One gasped as she writhed about on the floor, desperately she tried to hold her breath, but sick filled her mouth. The sack was ripped from her head, and she spat out her mouth’s contents, gasping and heaving.
‘Disgusting creature.’ The Doctor grabbed her shoulders and dragged her to the cage which sat against the wall.
Number One’s cuffs were removed before being pushed inside the cage, its door locked. Her neck bent as she tried to sit up, the low roof restricting her movement.
‘Treatment will continue tomorrow. I fear you may be here a long time. Play your part well and we shall consider an early release for you.’ The Doctor removed the white coat and packed up the equipment before heading out of the door.
Heavy bolts sliding across the door was the last thing the woman heard before all went silent. She pressed her face into the straw bedded floor and sobbed. If it wasn’t for the stinging cuts and the sickening breaks from her legs sending shooting pains ripping through her, she’d have thought that none of this was real. None of this was possible. This just couldn’t have happened. Sleep did take hold as exhaustion set in but before it did, her last thought was, did he know?
Chapter Two
Monday 3rd September 2018
Ghosts aren’t real, Megan reminded herself again. Christina would have proved otherwise by now. Christina would have revealed herself and said, ‘I told you so.’ Megan scanned the Victorian style mansion before her, wondering why people live in these houses and then complain that they think they are haunted. Visually it’s terrifying. It’s all that you expect an alleged haunted house to be with its grey stucco and stone facade and high pitched roof. There are even gargoyles. Ugly creatures which scream haunted house.
Megan reluctantly left the safe zone that was her car. She crunched across the vast gravelled driveway. Blind House. The house name adorned a decorative floral plaque on the impressive wooden door; a small bit of beauty on such a bleak exterior. Even the name was grim. If Christina could see her now she would be laughing. I need you, Megan breathed in wishing her friend was here. It should be the two of them. It was their new business venture. It wasn’t meant to be just Megan. Christina was the one who believed, the one who could have pulled this all off. Now Megan, who doesn’t feel remotely sensitive to ghosts and spirits felt like a massive fraud as she knocked the door. She remembered how much she was being paid. I have to do this. I can do this.
Instead of Lurch from the Addams Family opening the door as Megan feared, she was relieved to be greeted by a less threatening appearance- a man, good looking but red in the face, complemented by a layer of sweat. Most importantly he did not have bolts in his head and he smiled warmly.
‘Hi there, Megan is it?’ The man held out his hand, ‘Excuse me, just finished a work out. I’m Marc, I work for Ross. Come in.’
Megan greeted him and stepped through into the reception area.
‘So, paranormal investigator?’ Marc eyed her up and down. ‘You’re not what I imagined a ghost detective to look like.’
‘Is Ross Huston here?’
‘Yeah, he’s just cleaning up from his workout; I’ll let him know you’re here.’
Megan sucked in the air as Marc left the room. She hugged herself quickly, steadying her nerves. She looked around the room admiring the high ceiling and modern furnishings- surprising as it’s not what she imagined from the outside. When Ross Huston contacted her, requesting her services, she had to smile and shake off the idea that he was the Ross Huston. As if Ross Huston the movie star would be phoning her. It must be irritating for those people who share the same name as the famous. Looking around at the expensive decor now and the fact that Ross had staff; Megan started to think it could actually be him after all. She grinned, shook her head and started to relax. Be confident, it’s your first job, don’t screw it up, she reminded herself.
It’s him. Shit, it’s actually him. Megan clammed up and was unable to compute how to move as the actual Ross Huston strode towards her with his hand out. It took embarrassingly too long for Megan to return the handshake.
‘Megan Forrest? Ross Huston. Please come through to the living room.’ He gently guided her through the arched doorway.
Megan had often heard people refer to celeb
‘Pleased to meet you Mr Huston, sorry if I was a little startled, I didn’t expe-’
‘You may call me Ross. We need to discuss terms before we begin, please sit.’
Megan perched on the end of the plush sofa, terrified of actually creasing it. The immaculate and well-presented white and cream furnishings suggested that children definitely didn’t live here- it just wasn’t possible.
‘I hope you understand Miss Forrest-’
‘Megan.’
‘The importance here of confidentiality. Our dealings here must remain private.’
‘Of course, I completely underst-’
‘Ghosts, I mean... look, as briefly discussed over the phone, some strange things have been happening. I have a reputation and none of this can get out to the press. I’m doing this for my wife to put her at ease.’ Ross handed Megan some paperwork.
‘And where is Mrs Huston?’ Megan leafed through the documents.
‘She left yesterday for London; she needed a break from this... she was getting scared. I promised to sort it, get someone in. Please sign the document.’
Megan spent a few moments reading through it. She wouldn’t have thought of running to the press in any event. The thought of attracting fame and attention made her feel uncomfortable. She paused over the section explaining that she would be required to hand over her mobile phone whilst inside the property. Any photos or video footage taken with a camera would remain with Mr and Mrs Huston and not to be shared externally. All footage was to be deleted before any cameras were taken off the property on finishing the investigation. Likewise any usual and personal day to day activity from within the household must not be reported to the press. If Megan needed to explore the grounds outside then she must consult the security guard, Marc Thorne, first in order for him to ensure no paparazzi were outside and then will accompany her at all times. Any breach of these terms will result in legal action.
Megan scribbled her signature, despite feeling uneasy. She didn’t feel completely ready for this job in the first place, let alone this level of intensity. She swallowed the acid forming in her throat. Thinking of the alternative documents that had turned up at her home for unpaid debts, she handed the paperwork over to Ross. Not that it was her home anymore, not since she ran from it, but she wondered if everything would catch up with her. I need this job.
‘Now that’s out the way, let me fill you in.’ Ross shouted over to Marc to fetch them some tea. ‘This house actually belongs to Deborah, my wife. It was handed over to her about two years ago by her parents who have relocated to Australia. It dates back to the mid nineteenth century. With the help of Deborah’s Uncle Ian, they researched the house’s history and discovered that in its early years it was used as a private residence for the mentally insane. Deborah is convinced that the ghosts here are that of those patients. There is no evidence elsewhere to suggest any other deaths under this roof over the years.’
‘So you know that these patients died?’
‘Deborah spoke with a local historian who said that records were scarce, when it came to private residence for the insane. Often the families of the ill wished for it to remain a private matter. Other evidence suggests though, that the mentally ill of those times often lived out their days and died where they resided.’
‘And what do you believe?’
‘I believe that my wife is genuinely terrified. It’s true that strange things have happened, but I like to think I’m rational… ghosts? No, but I’ll do what it takes to keep the Mrs happy.’
Megan pulled out her notepad and pen and gratefully accepted the tea Marc had offered. She took the smallest of sips- the danger of spillage was high.
‘So run through some of the unusual activity that you’ve both witnessed.’
Ross sat back in his armchair and gestured with his eyes for Marc to leave the room.
‘Like I said, I’m a rational guy, so much of it I’m sure there could be an explanation, but for me, the weirdest thing has to be the sounds of women crying- muffled cries-distant. Every day for the past week, I’d say. Deborah never heard it so I assumed that part was just in my head.’
‘And what about Marc? Does he spend a lot of time here? Has he heard these cries? Anyone else living here?’
‘No, it’s just me and Deborah. Yes, Marc is here a lot. He’s in charge of our security and a good mate. He lives in as and when required. I recall that once he said that he thought he could hear a woman crying but shrugged it off as it was so faint.’
‘And what else?’
‘Things being moved, sudden bangs, thuds and knocks in the night, pictures falling off the wall and ending up the other side of the room, glasses falling off the counter and smashing. You know the usual stuff you hear about... I mean it’s an old house, it’s gonna creak and bang right?’
‘What about any CCTV footage, you must have security cameras? Caught anything on tape?’
‘Yes, Marc went through some footage and did spot the odd thing being moved, including one of the glasses that fell off the kitchen counter. There is also one dodgy image of a possible shadowy figure moving upstairs. I’m not convinced by it. I’ll get him to show you the footage later.’
‘Yes please. I’d like to take a look around the house now if that’s okay? Then I’ll get my equipment from the car and get started.’
‘I’ll just fetch Marc to show you round.’
Megan swallowed down her remaining tea and breathed in deeply. She hadn’t realised how lightheaded she had become; did she forget to breathe from the moment she entered the house? Crying women, she shuddered, rubbing each of her arms. I just need to set up my equipment, pretend to talk to dead people and declare that there are no ghosts here, she reassured herself. Simple. It wouldn’t be to Christina’s standards but Christina knew that she was the sceptical one, so what else would she expect?
Megan flinched as Marc burst through the door. She cringed and hoped it wasn’t obvious.
‘Bit jumpy Miss Forrest?’ he grinned, holding the door open, gesturing her over.
She got to the doorway but Marc blocked her path. He was now wearing a suit and it hadn’t escaped her notice how handsome he looked. She blushed at their close proximity and she could smell his subtle aftershave. He held out the palm of his hand.
‘Your phone, please Miss.’
‘Yes of course... yes sorry.’ She fumbled for her phone from her back pocket and handed it over. As she followed him out into the hallway, it hit her how unsafe she felt in a strangers home- despite how famous he was. Without her phone, she suddenly felt cut off- vulnerable even. This was definitely a bad idea but she knew that there was no going back now.
Chapter Three
Megan gasped at the view of the impressive formal looking garden through the large double patio doors at the far end of the kitchen. Day light was just beginning to fade and a few scattered solar lights twinkled like something from a fairy tale. She looked around the large kitchen with its deluxe fuel range cooker. Imagine baking in this kitchen with that view, she marvelled- she wouldn’t even mind doing the washing up either. She traced her finger over the marble topped kitchen island.
‘So, Ross said that a glass fell off by itself?’
‘Yes,’ Marc moved next to her, ‘right where your hand is actually. Caught it on camera.’
‘But Ross doesn’t believe it was a ghost?’
Marc smirked, shaking his head, ‘Ross is scared alright. If he’s told you any different, then he’s lying. The man is terrified. Yes, he thinks this house is haunted.’
‘Oh, and you?’
‘Well I shall reserve judgement until the expert confirms it.’ He winked at Megan. The inside of Marc’s suit jacket started to vibrate. He pulled out Megan’s phone and held the screen up to her. ‘Scott wants you. Take it. It’s okay if I can hear your conversation.’
