ROOM 4.

I’m shoved into this horrific glowing room that’s literally roaring right now. My heart palpitates and I feel all the blood draining out of me. I see a set of bloody red eyes staring at me. A dead hand pokes out ominously and does a gesture that meant it was inviting me in.

“BEN?” I scream, wanting him to wake up. I can’t control my body anymore. It’s shoving me and I can’t move. I try to turn back to see what’s shoving me but I can’t.

“BEN?!” I scream once more. The dead hand reaches out to me and I feel it’s old and cold skin, brushing against mine. It pulls me in and I feel as if my arm would detach any second now.

“BEN!” I scream as loud as possible. That’s when a miracle happens. I hear footsteps and an unmistakeably recognizable groggy voice call my name.

“Grace?” It’s Ben. His footsteps are closer but he has to act quickly to get me. I scream his name once more and he comes running towards me, hugging me by the waists and pulling me. The dead hand is now not alone. Another set of hands come out to help and that freaks me out even more. Then another, and another until soon I can see their ghostly bodies sticking out of the room. Their skin is peeling off and maggots are hanging on their skin.

“ROOM 4, ROOM 4, ROOM 4, ROOM 4…” They chant as they pull me even harder. Ben doesn’t give up. He tugs onto me and pulls me as hard as possible until I am free from their grasps. Ben and I drop onto the ground with me on top of him. The ghostly figures roar and the door closes with a loud slam. The door disappears in an instant as if it were never there.

Still on the floor, Ben and I give each other horrified looks. He’s pale and I feel guilty. “What the hell was that?” He says, his voice cracking with fear still. I feel my entire body trembling with horror as I look up to see where the door once was.

Still gone as if it were never there.

Ben gets on his knees and crawls to the empty space, trembling as he went. He moves his trembling hand around the empty wall, turning back at me, his face still pale. There’s something different about the way he’s looking at me, something that makes my hair stand on end. I just can’t put my finger on it.

“Grace?” A tired voice calls out. It’s… Ben? I get on my feet and what I see makes my heart almost stop completely.

Ben is there, lying on the carpet next to dad where he was when I left. He’s sitting there right now, rubbing his eyes. I feel my entire body losing all its blood.

“B-B-Ben?” I stammer, pointing at him. Ben’s still rubbing his eyes groggily but he answers me with an annoyed “Hmmmm?”

I tremble from head to toe. Daren’t I turn to my left to see who saved me a few minutes ago?

I dare.

I turn to my left and see a pool of blood at the end of the hallway.

No Room 4.

No Ben.

No nothing.

Just. A. Pool. Of.

Blood.

…

Next morning, I wake up in Ben’s arms. I scream at first and Ben wakes up and flinches and shouts at me.

“What the heck, Grace?” He shouts in annoyance. My breathing is unsteady and my heart is beating like a drum.

“I can feel your heart beating like you’ve just ran a marathon you know, why is that?” He asks, obviously worried. I wriggle out of his arms and sit up, only to see that we’re the only ones on the carpet.

“Where’s mom and dad?” I ask, my breathing still unsteady.

“They left for breakfast. They’ll be back with food,” Ben tells me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong? And why did you collapse on the ground last night in front of the hallway?”

My heart almost stops beating. I run to the hallway to see if there was still that pool of blood or the mysterious Room 4.

Nothing.

I turn back to Ben, my head trembling. He runs over to me and holds onto both of my shoulders. I crane my neck to look at him as he cranes his to look down at me. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” He asks, his voice almost in a whisper. We sit on the carpet and sit opposite each other as I tell him everything.

“It-It felt like a dream,” I say after I’d told him everything. He gives me this cold look and tells me, “It wasn’t a dream.”

“How do you know?” I ask. His face is cold and ominous. He lifts a trembling finger and points it to the curtains behind him. I gasp.

ROOM 4 is carved horrifically on it.

“How long has that been there?” I ask, my voice trembling.

“Didn’t you realize it, Grace?” Ben asks me in bewilderment, his voice quavering. He grabs my shoulders.

“It’s always been there,” He says. “Ever since we moved in last night.”

…

For the next few hours (despite Ben told me that mom and dad would be back soon), Ben and I surf the internet to find out the history about our apartment. Did anything bad happen? Was there bad history in this place?

Was someone murdered? How many?

“In 2000, a husband, who reported to be under the control of the devil himself, killed his wife and 5 daughters in room 3A that’s situated on level 4,” Ben reads out loud. A gust of wind flies through the open window and makes the curtains fly horrifically. Ben and I shudder. He gets up, closes the window and sits back next to me.

“How long has the window been open?” I ask in a whisper. Ben looks at me with a look that says, do you really want to know?

“Neighbour Mr and Mrs Jones, reported hearing cries and violent screaming. Mr Jones reported saying that he went to the killer’s front door and opening it as it wasn’t locked. He found out that there were only pools of blood but no bodies and the killer husband was crying on the floor with a bloody knife a few inches away from him.

“Mr Jones asked where the bodies were but the killer didn’t give an answer. Mr Jones did the right thing calling the police and ambulance. The killer is currently behind bars, serving a life sentence.” The story went on but I’d asked Ben to stop there. I sunk my forehead into his broad shoulders and he ruffles my hair.

“Grace, we have to know where they are.” Ben tells me. I turn to him and raise my eyebrows.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, walking over to the hallway. He trails behind me and we stand side by side, facing the empty wall.

“You don’t think-?” I nod. Ben shudders and blanches. He walks slowly to the empty wall and feels around it, looking for something. He gasps and turns to me.

“There’s a door knob behind the walls,” he tells me, his face at its palest. I walk over to him and put my hand on where his was. He’s right.

“Should we-?” Before I can finish my sentence, Ben is walking back into the living room, pacing back and forth with his hands on his head.

“Th-That would explain the funny smell, the torn curtains a-and everything!” Ben stammers, still pacing back and forth. Ben has always been able to control his natural stammer but this is definitely freaking him out.

I take his hands in mine and hug him. Mom always does that when he freaks out so that he’d calm down and speak normally. His breathing that was once ragged is now stable, calm. He hugs me back and sinks his head into my shoulder which is pretty impossible as I am very short compared to him.

“We have to do something, Grace.” Ben says, his head still dug in my shoulder. I pull away slowly and Ben sits on the carpet. I do to.

“Should we investigate?” I ask warily. Ben looks at me with determination to help those poor bodies that are trapped somewhere.

I sigh. On one hand I’d really hate to do this but on the other, I pitied those bodies. They were never found.

“Fine,” I say. He takes my hands in his.

“When do we start?”

To be continued in: Investigation Starts.