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Loose gravel crunched loudly as an old dusty black car pulled up a driveway between grarled, bare rose bushes. It was the middle of summer, but the entire manor was surrounded by a dreary sort of air. It made the place all the more creepy, but that didn't bother Zayn at all. If anything, it made him want to get inside even more. He'd received a call a week or so ago to come in and do a bit of an investigation so the owner of the land could sell the house. People swore the place was haunted, but the owner wanted to disprove such idle fancies. Parking the car, Zayn moved to pull off his seatbelt and get out of the vehicle. He strode toward the gate and the older man who was standing in front of it, struggling lightly to open a heavy looking rusted padlock. He had just managed to pry the weathered lock open as Zayn approached. The loud, heavy sound of the chain as it was dragged through the iron bars cut him off before he could speak, and Zayn just stood there sort of awkwardly as the man gave the gate a push, sending it shrieking loudly open. He jumped a little as he turned to find Zayn just a few feet behind him, lifting a hand to his chest with a soft breath. "Shouldnae sneak up on people likat," He commented, and Zayn barely understood him past the thick Irish accent. "Sorry about that, mate," Zayn said, and he reached out a hand as if to introduce himself. The man had already turned away though, and after a couple moments of just letting his hand hang there like an idiot, Zayn finally pulled away to push the offending limb into his jumper pocket. "Do you know much about this place?" "I been takin' care o' dis place for nigh-on twen-y five yares," The man explained before he turned to pin Zayn with a quietly appraising glance. "It's a nice 'nough place, but I wouldnae spend a nigh' in 'ere no mah'er 'ow much that plonker paid me. You've eider got balls a steel, or you're a righ' plonker too."Zayn raised an eyebrow with that, not sure if he should be offended by that or not. "We'll just go with the former, ye?" He asked, trying to keep any sort of negative tone out of his voice. "How long did he say I could stay here?""Tree days," The man replied. "I'll lock de gate behind ya, so nobo'y boders ya. I'll come back early in da mornin' on Monday and see 'ow you're gettin' along. Jus' be careful- ye?"Zayn was a little surprised at how concerned the man seemed to be, but he pushed the thought to the side and nodded. "Ye, sounds good," He replied. "Is there a number I can call if something happens?""Ye. Triple nine."Trying not to let the rather ominous words get to him, Zayn simply nodded again. "Alright, thanks," He said before he shifted back. The man seemed about finished with the conversation, checking his watch and since Zayn didn't want to keep him any longer then necessary, he turned on his heel to quickly get back into his car. He popped it into drive, ignoring the slight grinding noise as the transmission forced the vehicle into gear and it rolled through the gate. The man didn't say a word as he passed by, though it didn't seem to matter all that much. He was quick to close the gate and by the time Zayn had parked and got out of his car, the man was already wrapping the chain around the wrought iron posts to lock the gate once more. He was off and into his truck before Zayn could really even move to walk back toward the driveway. The vehicle started with a sharp backfire and Zayn watched him drive off in a sparse cloud of black smoke before he turned to look back toward the house. The three storey manor house rose into the lovely clearness of the summer sky, seeming dark and looming even below the glaring sunlight. A few of the dusty windows were broken, most likely smashed open with rocks or other heavy objects tossed by the neighbourhood kids. Still though, even with the broken panes and the paint chipping mournfully off the worn wooden siding of the house, it was still a beautiful place. Weeds and old gnarled bushes cluttered around the front porch and across what Zayn was sure was once a beautiful yard. The trees and flower beds were overgrown, ivy growing up the latticework over the sides of the front porch, the tendrils of the creeping vines even beginning to overtake the roof. After a moment, Zayn leaned into the car, placing a hand on top of the centre console to brace himself as he reached into the passenger seat to pick up an old digital camera. Pushing himself back, he stood straight once more, narrowly missing the top edge of the door with the back of his head. He was in too much of a rush to pay much attention to it though. He was more intent on snapping pictures of the place, taking in every detail, all the way from the broken bottom step at the front of the porch to the way the shingles had begun to warp and peel up from years of weathered abuse and neglect.It took minutes before Zayn finally pulled himself from the camera to begin unloading his things. He pulled one of three heavy metal cases from the trunk, having to carry it with both hands to drag it to the front of the house and up the steps. He skipped the bottom step- of course, and walked across the creaky old planks that made up the porch. The front door was unlocked as the owner had promised it would be, though it didn't want to open. He gave a shove, though it wasn't enough to force the door from the jamb. Frowning, Zayn set the case down onto the deck to force his shoulder against the door. With a loud bang and a shot of pain that jarred through his arm, the door gave way, swinging open with a blood curdling shriek of rusty hinges. The inside of the house was dim and musty, but Zayn couldn't help but take in the worn beauty of the interior. He left the case on the porch, his attention lapsing slightly as he padded slowly into the house. The whole place was open, light filtering through the dirty windows, washing over the scuffed wooden floors in a soft golden glow. The living room to his left was sunken, two steps leading down into the large room. Dusty white sheets covered the few pieces of furniture in the room, picture frames and little nick knacks still set up along the fireplace mantle and the shelves along the walls. A set of stairs rose to his right to go up to the second floor, straight ahead a small, sparse kitchen could be seen through the archway at the end of the hallway. There was another archway across the living room that Zayn was pretty sure went into a dining room, though he couldn't see anything beyond the wall. He lifted the camera from his chest where it was hanging around his neck with a thick strap, beginning to snap even more pictures. Before he could get too into it though, he was reminded of the case still sitting on the porch as a light gust of wind shifted the door, making it give a shriek as it moved. Turning, he quickly dragged the case into the house and down the steps into the living room. There was plenty of time to explore after he had everything set up. Hauling his equipment into the house was almost too much of a bother for him, but Zayn still managed it and once everything was piled in the middle of the living room, he began to set things up. He laid one of the cases down, flipping the latches to push the top of it open. Reaching inside, he removed a camera from the fitted foam lining of the case, screwing it onto the top of a tall tripod. Another five cameras were set up in much the same way- three from each case, and Zayn set them off to the side as he opened the last case. Inside this one was the rest of the equipment, a laptop and the router needed to connect wirelessly to the cameras. He took a few minutes to check everything over and make sure that everything was in working order before he moved to begin setting the cameras up in certain spots around the house. One stood in the corner of the dining room overlooking both that room and the kitchen. Another stayed at the bottom of the stairs, angled so the front door and the stairwell were caught in frame. Upstairs, he placed two of the cameras into what appeared to be a master bedroom and a young girl's room, if the two pink blanketed beds and the dust caked vanity table against the wall were any clue. The fifth camera was set up on the third floor landing to catch the hallway and the last was placed in another bedroom, this one obviously belonging to a young man.As he made his way back downstairs, Zayn paused to take a photo of each of the rooms, being careful not to disturb anything yet. By the time he reached the ground floor, the memory card of his camera was full and with a sigh, he padded into the living room. Pulling the strap of the camera over his head, Zayn set it into the case that had the laptop sitting open in it before he went about setting up where he would be sleeping. Unzipping a heavy duffel bag, Zayn took out a small air mattress to roll it out onto the floor, connecting an air pump to it to blow it up. Thankfully, since it wasn't a very big mattress it didn't take long, but his elbows were still a little shaky and there was an ache through his biceps by the time he had finished with it. He tossed a pillow onto it and spread a couple blankets over it haphazardly before he dug through the duffel bag again to pull out a little canvas case that he unzipped to take out another memory card for his camera. Taking a few minutes to go through the camera feeds on his laptop, Zayn made sure that everything was set up properly before he finally decided that he should do a little bit of research around the place. He took the camera with him as he again wandered through the house, looking over the dust covered photographs and nick knacks, learning more about the family that last lived here than he thought he might. There was a wife- or at least a woman that liked her jewelry and little decorative figurines. From the pictures, he could see that there were two sisters and a younger man who had lived here as well. The worn and sun-bleached painting above the mantle held significant interest for him. The woman- the wife he assumed, was sat in an ornate looking chair, a man standing behind her. Two girls stood on her right, one behind the chair and the other- the younger, just beside it. On her left was a young man who had a neutral, though almost sad expression on his face. Zayn could see that his eyes would have been absolutely gorgeous in person, but he couldn't see the details very clearly past the dust and how faded the paint was. He lifted the camera to take a picture of the painting, moving on from it almost hesitantly. The rest of the framed photographs through the house weren't much better, most of them faded and in black and white, which didn't give away anything as to what sort of people they may have been really. He took pictures of specific items in the bedrooms, things that he found interest in, or thought may be important. He was in the middle of snapping a picture of a half faded movie poster tacked to the third floor bedroom wall when his stomach decided that it would be a good idea right then to remind him that he hadn't eaten since that morning. A little frown crossed Zayn's face as he let out another soft breath, settling the camera onto his chest as he moved to leave room, knowing he wouldn't be able to think of much else but the leftover pizza that he had in the cooler in the back seat of his car. He bounced down the steps, hauling the front door open to walk out to his car where he opened the back door to grab the blue cooler off the seat. He carried it into the house, pushing the door closed before he crossed to take a seat on the edge of the air mattress. He pushed the top of the cooler open to take out the plastic wrapped pizza. He pushed the cooler away with his foot as he shifted toward the end of the bed to drag the case with the laptop closer, flipping between each of the cameras slowly. He unwrapped the food, taking out an old digital voice recorder that he turned on to set on the edge of the laptop, pressing the record button. "Eight forty three pm, Saturday," He began, taking a bite from the pizza. "I've set up each of the six cameras at what I would assume would have been high traffic areas of the house. Multiple photographs and paintings throughout the home suggest that there was a family of a man and his wife with two daughters and a son. The daughters shared a second floor bedroom, and it would seem like they had been out of secondary school at the time of their disappearances. I found no real personal effects, no diaries or journals in their room- though I tried not to disturb anything too much."He paused there to take another bite, chewing slowly as he flicked through the cameras again. He stopped at the master bedroom, shifting to sit cross legged comfortably as he leaned forward a little more. "The parents slept in the same room, which suggests that the marriage was at least stable. There are multiple photos of them together, though the father seems to be a rather hard type of man- which isn't all that unheard of for the time. The owner of the property had told me that the daughters and son went missing, though the mother was found on the second floor landing and the father had taken a pistol and shot himself with it on the back porch. He told me that authorities had suggested that the wife had fallen down the stairs which broke her neck on impact and the father- upon finding his wife, had committed suicide in his grief."Flicking the camera again, Zayn paused on the third floor bedroom. He took another bite from the slice of pizza, letting out a little breath. He wasn't exactly sure how to approach this one, there wasn't much that he had learned about the boy that had lived in that room."The young man that lived here..." He paused with that, his gaze drawn toward the painting above the fireplace. "I'd assume he was about my age and he seemed to have an affinity for movies and multiple different sports. It would appear that he didn't have many friends though. Unlike his sisters, he didn't have much as far as personal effects, and there had been no pictures of him with anyone other than his family..."Letting out a breath, Zayn reached to turn the recorder off, not sure what else to say about the subject. He set the recorder off to the side, still flipping through the camera as he continued eating. It took him a while to finish his meal, as he was eating rather slowly, most of his attention focused on the computer screen. It steadily grew darker in the room as the sun dipped behind the overgrown trees outside, and he leaned over to go through the duffel bag to take out an LED lamp. Flicking it on, he set it on top of the empty cases off to the side, illuminating the room in a bright bluish- white light. Once he finished his pizza, Zayn balled up the plastic wrap, just putting it back into the cooler. He didn't have enough disrespect to drop it on the floor or leave it somewhere else. Letting out a sigh, Zayn checked the cameras again, just to make sure that everything was working properly before he moved back. He reached for the lamp as he shifted back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up and over himself. He laid back, staring up toward the ceiling as he just relaxed. Anybody else would probably be uncomfortable, but it didn't bother Zayn to be in such a quiet, dreary place. Closing his eyes, he reached over to turn the lamp off, casting the room in darkness. With how tired he was from all the set up and movement, it didn't take him long to fall asleep and he curled up under the warm blankets comfortably in an automatic way. The house was quiet around him, seeming to hold it's breath as he slept, keeping it's quiet secrets for the time being.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The room was still dark as Zayn's eyes flashed open, the only light coming from the display of his laptop. The house was still quiet and there wasn't any obvious reason for him to be awake. He sat up, looking down toward the foot of the bed to the computer, which was still right where it had been, the third floor bedroom still on the screen. He rolled to the side to turn on the lantern, and although he had meant to sit right back up to go through the camera feeds, his gaze was drawn to something else. Maybe ten feet from the side of the bed, clear on the worn floorboards was a footprint, one that was very obviously not his own. He hadn't taken off his shoes as he walked around the house, and this print was from someone walking barefoot. Quickly, he moved to the end of the bed, selecting the camera by the door, scanning through the recorded video for the last few hours, but nothing had changed or moved. The door had stayed closed, so either whoever had left that footprint had come in some other way, or...Getting up quickly, Zayn slipped his shoes on, grabbing a handheld video camera. He picked up the lantern and turned on the camera before he crossed to the print, documenting it thoroughly. It definitely wasn't one of his own. It was too large to ever belong to him, and it was clear through the dust on the floor. He scanned the rest of the hardwood, seeing another just at the base of the stairs. His heart began to beat a little faster as he moved toward it, panning the camera over it as he moved up the stairs in the direction he was sure the trail was leading. He lost the footprints at the landing of the second floor, but just barely, out of the corner of his eye, overlapped over one of his own footprints he spotted the slight disturbance of dust in the shape of the pads of toes. Turning to continue up the stairs, Zayn continued to film as he reached the third floor. On the top stair was another partial print and further down the hall was another full one. He wasn't sure if he was excited or nervous as he walked continued down the hall, but the last full print was the last one to be found. He carefully scanned the surrounding areas, finding absolutely nothing as he looked. Slowly his heart was beginning to sink, but only moments later, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor in one of the rooms. He hurried toward the sound, scanning through the two rooms upstairs- a storage space and the bedroom. It was in the latter that he found a heavy looking picture frame lying face down on the floor. The dust around it had been disturbed by the impact, and he made sure to film the whole area around just to make sure it wasn't a coincidence. There was nothing around and as far as he could remember, the picture had been pretty close to the middle of the nightstand the last time he had seen it, so there was no logical explanation for what had taken place. Reaching down, Zayn picked the frame up. The glass had been broken by the fall, though the subjects of the photo were still obvious. The young man and one of his sisters were sat together on the front steps, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, a grin on both their faces. It was a happy and calm looking scene, though the broken glass made it seem a little more foreboding. He moved to set the picture frame back there it had been, which was made obvious by the lines in the dust. He scanned the room once more only to come up with nothing and he left the room to pad back downstairs to the living room. Sitting on the end of the bed, Zayn connected the camcorder with the computer to upload the footage, reaching for the voice recorder. Pressing record, he began to speak, his words maybe a little fast with the excitement he still had coursing through him from experiencing what he could only explain as a true paranormal phenomenon. "Twelve thirty eight AM, Sunday. I don't know what woke me. There was nothing on the cameras, nothing had been moved or disturbed other than the footprints that led up the stairs. I was elated to find that first print and as I followed them up the stairs, I couldn't help but feel even more excited with each one I found. Five of them in all, they led up the stairs to the third floor landing," He said, pausing to watch the footage play out for a moment. "I had just found the fifth one, and I was searching for more of them when a picture frame was knocked off the bedside table in the third floor bedroom- the one belonging to the son of the family. Nothing else had been touched or disturbed, though when it gets light out, I will be taking another look just to be sure I didn't miss anything in the dark. The photograph had been in the middle of the bedside table, there was no way that it could have fallen by itself."He watched the footage for another moment. "The imprint of where it had been set on the table was clear in the dust on the table top. It's as if it was picked straight up and dropped deliberately on the floor. I can't believe I actually witnessed something like this...!"Stopping himself there, Zayn reined himself in, taking a breath. He didn't witness it, he had been in the vicinity when it happened. There was absolutely no proof that his words held any weight. Reaching to turn off the recorder for the moment, he moved to grab his phone from the duffel bag, connecting it to the computer to tether them together so he could access the Internet.
He was quick to type in the address to find anything he possibly could on the place, but most of what came up was pretty generic. Still though- it might help with the investigation. Again, he reached to turn on the recorder, this time holding onto it as he scrolled through the articles.
"Twelve fifty six AM, Sunday. Upon further investigation into the history of the property, I found a few rather vague articles online from nineteen sixty one, when this had all taken place. There's nothing in them that I don't already know, other than that the family name was Payne, and they were indeed a seemingly happily married couple with two daughters, and a son. The kids were never found as I've specified before, and the mother's death was officially reported as accidental at her autopsy."
He scrolled further down the article, that hazel gaze scanning the page as he read the article aloud.
"The town sheriff made an official statement saying: "The Payne's were a respected family, and their untimely deaths are a great loss to the community." They had many friends and were well liked by nearly everybody that knew them."
Biting his lip, Zayn frowned, unable to find anything that could really point to any reason for anything that had taken place here. They seemed like a pretty normal family, nothing had ever seemed off about them to the public eye. Then again, just because the public didn't know anything didn't mean that nothing was going on. Reaching absently to turn off the recorder, Zayn went back to the search screen to select another article. This one was much the same. Nobody had anything bad to say about this family.
It was strange to him, that a group of people that were apparently so well liked could have such a tragedy befall them. Releasing a little breath, Zayn shook his head, not sure what to think. Again, he couldn't stop the way his gaze was drawn to the now shadowed painting above the fireplace. He couldn't make out the exact details in the light of the lantern, but he remembered the look on the son's face, the sadness in his expression. Something more than what most people saw had gone on here, and it got under Zayn's skin slightly. He had to get to the bottom of this, there was no other option.
As it was though, with how dark it was in the place, and no electricity to turn on any lights, Zayn had no choice but to let it go for the moment. He could continue this in the morning when he could actually see what he was doing. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Zayn shifted take off his shoes, putting on the screen saver of the laptop and unplugging hid phone from it before he shifted back up the mattress, setting the lamp on the floor just next to it, turning it off.
Slipping under the blankets again he crossed his arms behind his head, staring up toward the darkened ceiling. Before he even knew what was happening, he was asleep and he didn't wake until sunlight spilled across his face.
He was groggy as he rolled over, letting out a little breathy groan. He was more tired than he should have been, but then again he had spent an hour last night prowling through the house and having a picture frame nearly scare him to death, so he supposed it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. Reaching up, Zayn rubbed lightly at one of his eyes with the heel of his palm.
He had to get up, but he really didn't want to. Pulling the blanket up over his head and going back to sleep for a couple hours seemed like so much better of an idea than sitting up and facing a tired day. Still though, he pushed himself up with a yawn. He stretched, dragging both hands through his hair before he finally opened his eyes.
The moment his gaze landed on the laptop at the end of the air mattress he could swear is heart stopped beating. The computer was still right where it was supposed to be, open on top of the metal case. However, set just in front of it on the case was that same silver frame, the glass still cracked over the photograph.
"No fucking way..." He couldn't stop the tremor in the words as he just sat staring at the picture, eyes wide.
How in the hell had that ended up there? He could vividly remember putting it back onto the nightstand where it belonged, but there it was, two grinning, black and white faces staring right at him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zayn shifted toward the end of the mattress, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip as he reached to pick up the photograph. He hesitated before his fingertips could make contact with the heavy silver frame, he was apprehensive as if the metal would burn him if he touched it. "Fuck sake, Zayn..." He breathed, as if to chastise himself.Still, his fingertips hovered over the picture frame for a few more long moments before he finally pushed himself to actually close his grip around the cool metal. He lifted the frame and sat back, bringing it into his lap with a soft breath. Flipping it to take a look at the back, he found nothing off about it- other than the fact that he was alone in the house and he wasn't the one to put it there. There were no fingerprints in the soft felt besides his own where they were pressing into the material. Finally, he reached to turn the knobs on the back of the frame, popping the stand out of place to take the photo and the backing paper out. The paper behind the photo was sort of stuck to it, so as gently as he could manage, he peeled it away, careful not to damage anything. On the back, in a loopy script was a date and just two words. "1957, Ruth's Birthday."Zayn turned the photo back over to look at the two smiling faces before he glanced up toward the painting above the mantle. Ruth was the girl who he'd assumed was the younger sister stood by her mother's side, her hands folded in front of herself. Setting the broken frame to the side without upsetting the glass and dumping it all over the bed, Zayn moved forward to pick up the recorder, which was on the case just next to the laptop where he had left it. He woke the display of the laptop to begin going through the footage of the night before as he began to record his thoughts on the anomaly. "Nine fourteen AM, Sunday. After the events of last night, I returned to bed and didn't wake until approximately ten minutes ago. When I sat up to begin the day and review the camera feed, I found the same silver framed picture from last night in front of the laptop on top of the carrying case. There's no explanation for how it got there- I certainly didn't move it from the nightstand where I left it last night..."Trailing off, Zayn continued scrubbing through the videos of each camera to see if anything at all had happened. He found an solute nothing on either of the landing cameras or the one at the bottom of the stairs. "Upon revision of the cameras, it would seem like nothing unusual had gone on after I returned to sleep-"He cut off there, noticing just the slightest movement on the third floor bedroom camera recording. He brought the video back a few seconds, slowing the footage to see the picture on the bedside table move less than an inch before the feed abruptly cut out for maybe three seconds and when it resumed, the picture was gone completely. "No way... On the upstairs camera- feed six, there was a slight movement of the photograph before the feed was corrupted. When it comes back on, the picture is gone from where it was on the table. There's no other disturbances, no-"Again, he cut off, but this time it was to look up toward the ceiling. Somewhere above his head, the floor groaned as if someone was walking through the hallways. He nearly jumped out of his skin as running footsteps and the slamming of a door rang through the house and before he could really even think about it, he had his camera in hand. Neglecting to put his shoes on, or think of the way he tossed the blanket over the busted picture frame, he rushed toward the stairs, turning on the camcorder as he went. On the first landing, everything looked normal, all the doors still stood open as he had left them so he continued up. He was huffing slightly from his rush and the exertion of running up stairs, but he had plenty of time to catch his breath as he stopped short. The bedroom door was closed firmly, the dust still settling from the sudden movement of it. Swallowing the nervousness trying to crawl up his throat, Zayn padded slowly to the door, reaching to try the handle. The door opened with a worn shriek, though Zayn stayed in the hall as he let it swing open slowly. He wasn't sure what to expect really, but everything was calm. Everything besides the picture were in the same place, untouched, undisturbed. Pushing himself to step forward, Zayn padded a couple feet into the room, pausing to pan the camera over the interior. His heart was pounding, though there was really no reason for it. Nothing looked any different than it did the day before. Sucking in a breath, Zayn moved to investigate everything more thoroughly, making sure not to move anything from where it was. He didn't want to potentially mess up any of his data of everything here. He was about to step out of the room to begin documenting the hallway as well when the softest sound behind him made him whirl around. Nothing was different on first glance, but as Zayn stepped back into the room, the clear prints of bare feet- the same as the ones from last night became apparent on the floor. Two of them, one right after the other just in front of the closet door as if made by somebody walking straight inside. He moved toward them, aiming the camera toward the footprints his own sock covered feet made on the floor- just to prove to himself that he hadn't somehow left them. Reaching for the knob on the door, he pulled the closet open slowly, being faced with some clothes hanging on a wooden rod above his head. Nothing moved as he pushed the door out of the way, making sure not to disturb the prints as he reached in to push the hanging clothes out of the way. The back of the closet was just a couple feet in, and there wasn't anything there either that made him believe that anything was unusual. He spent probably more time than he really needed to looking through the little nook, moving clothes and documenting absolutely everything, but he came up short. A frown crossed his face as he sighed and lowered the camera. Absolutely fuck all. Of course. Stepping back out of the closet, Zayn stepped around the footprints to finally go back out to the hallway to find something- anything hopefully. He was stopped though, by the softest of creaks just behind him, and a little shiver slipped up his spine. Lifting the camera, Zayn turned on the spot to see that the back wall of the closet had swung open a couple inches and a thin beam of sunlight was shining from the opening. Now this was something. Zayn couldn't keep down the nervous excitement that bubbled up in his stomach as he padded toward the opening. Placing one hand on the panelled wood, Zayn gave a little push, his eyes widening as he looked around the room. Nearly every inch of the walls were covered in sketches and paintings, drawings of things all the way from buildings to animals and people, canvases leaned up against the walls on the floor with paintings of flowers and bowls of fruit or of landscapes. A desk sat across the room, the top of it filled with stacks of pages. Most of them looked blank, but there were more drawings there as well, seeming to have been haphazardly gone through. More pages, pencils and dirty paint brushes had spilled onto the floor, but that wasn't what drew his attention. On top of everything on the desk was a dusty old black book, sitting slightly askew as if it had been pushed at one point before it was left there. Carefully, as to not step on anything, Zayn crossed the room, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over the drawings surrounding him. The Payne boy had talent- that much was obvious, but nothing in his bedroom even hinted at anything like this. Stepping between the pages on the floor, he moved to the desk, leaning to lightly blow the thick layer of dust off the book. On the front, in gold letting was: L. Payne. "A diary?" Zayn couldn't keep himself from speaking aloud, reaching to gently straighten where the book was sitting. The spine of the book crackled loudly as he lifted the front cover to look over the contents. The front page was just blank, nothing but the same name repeated again and in the corner a: "Keep Out!"Zayn couldn't stop the little smile that crossed his face with that, and he let the cover fall back closed before he reached to pick the book up. He set the camera onto the desk as he gently brushed the dust off the cover, biting his lip. He had to record this. Grabbing the camera, he was quick to leave the room and head downstairs toward the living room. Again he was slightly out of breath from his rush, but he ignored it as he just moved to sit cross legged on the end of the air mattress. He reached for the recorder, again going over what had happened and how he had found the diary before he finally moved to open it. Again, the spine of the book crackled with the movement, but he was careful as he pulled it open, lifting the first page. Multiple pages in the front of the book had been torn out, but the entry at the top was still complete. April 17, 1960,
Mum took Ruth into town today. Nicola told her she was going over to Ana's, but I know she was going to see Jake. I can't tell mum that though. Nicola threatened to punch my teeth in if I said a word about finding her and Jake behind the shed sucking face.
Ruth came back with a new dress and a huge smile. It's nice to see her so happy like that. I was a little jealous though. Mum said that we don't have enough money to spend on frivl frivul useless things. We barely had enough money to keep the power on this month, but then when Ruth went and asked for a £2 dress, mum just let her have it. I doubt I would have gotten anything I asked for.
I tried again today to go to the park to get some drawings done while mum was in town, but Jeremy and his lackeys were there, and there's no way I'm going anywhere near him again. Not after last time when he threatened to cut me with that stupid switchblade he carries around with him. I hope he sits on the damn thing one day and cuts his willy off.
That wasn't nice...
Zayn couldn't help but laugh a little with that, shaking his head lightly. He could remember having thoughts along those lines about the people that made his life a living hell back in secondary school. He carefully turned the page to read through the rest of the entry.
Lacy waved at me today, but I didn't wave back. She's nice enough I guess, but I know what her friends think of me, and I'm not giving them anymore reason to hate me. I've already got enough of a problem with that.
Is there really that much about me to despise? I've only ever tried to be nice to people, but it doesn't matter, does it? Maybe it's got something to do with dad. Everybody knows him and nobody really likes him even though they'd never say that to his face. I hear what people say though. They're always so glad when he goes on his trips. It's like they can finally breathe again. I know how they feel.
Zayn bit his lip, reading over the last paragraph once more before he looked back toward the painting and the hardened look on the man's face. "It seems like the father of the family was a little less liked than the official statement would have people believe. His son and apparently the rest of the town seemed to rest a little easier when he wasn't around."He bit his lip, honestly not really liking where this was going. If this man's own son didn't like him, he couldn't have been all that good of a man.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zayn set the diary to the side gently, leaning over to pick the broken picture frame off the bed, setting it next to the laptop on the carrying case before he reached to drag the cooler closer toward the edge of the bed to go through the contents. He shifted one of the not so frozen anymore cold packs out of the way to take out a carton of milk and one of those one serving boxes of cereal. Pulling out a bowl as well, Zayn made himself some breakfast before he returned to where he settled onto the bed. Picking up the diary and the recorder again, Zayn continued with his exploration of the contents of it. Another page had been torn out after the first entry, but the next one was just a few days later, so it didn't seem like much of anything could be missing. He finished the spoonful of cereal he had in his mouth before he pressed to record the next entry.
April 20, 1960
Mum was up early this morning, long before dawn. I swear she worked her hands bloody to scrub down every surface in the house. I could nearly see my reflection on the counter when she had finished. Dad's coming home today, and I hope that for once, mum will let me be as far from home as I can manage before he gets here.
I know that Ruth is nervous, though she was wearing that new dress mum got for her. It must be nice being dad's favourite when he let's her have whatever she wants. He's going to gush all over her about how pretty and grown up his amazing daughter is. Nicola says it makes her sick to watch him fawn all over Ruth like that and I can see why. He's always so touchy with her...
Cutting off there, Zayn frowned, biting his lip as he probably read more into that than he was ever meant to. Letting out a soft breath, Zayn put the bowl onto the case by the laptop, really not having much of an appetite anymore.
Mum caught me trying to sneak out the back door when dad got home. She gave me a good slap upside the head and pushed me into the other room to wait for him to come in the front door with Nicola and Ruth. She didn't even blink when she noticed Nicola had disappeared. Why do I have to be here when she doesn't?
Dad had gifts when he came in. For Ruth, that is. He gave her a new doll, even though she's way too old for them. He didn't even look twice at me, he just waved me away, though I was honestly glad to go. I would rather be anywhere but here.
Nicola was outside when I left, and she just looked at me as I walked by. I don't know what she was doing, but I saw the knife in her hands and I can only hope she's not doing what I think she was doing. The last time I tried to confront her about it, she threatened to put me through the wall if I told anybody about it, and I don't want to test whether she would or not.
I went for a walk around town while mum made dinner and dad probably just sat in the den watching sports on the tele. I wouldn't doubt that he's already got a beer in one hand and his other one around Ruth. I tried to talk to her about how close she is with him once, but she just laughed at me and asked me if I was jealous. I didn't tell her that I'm jealous that he seems to love her more, but I would never want to be under his arm like that. I'd rather take the beatings.
Zayn released a little breath, reaching up to lightly pinch at the bridge of his nose. Christ, this family was really fucked, weren't they? He knew he shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but holy shit... He turned off the recorder, setting it on the edge of the laptop, deciding to take a bit of a break from this. Leaning his head lightly on his palm, Zayn flicked through the cameras, barely paying any attention. His mind was much too muddled with the apparently deep and dark secrets of this family to let him dwell on anything in the camera feeds. It took a few minutes before he pulled the bowl a little closer to finish off the- unfortunately- soggy cereal with a grimace. He still didn't have much of an appetite, but he had to eat something. He still hadn't quite managed to shake the disturbed feeling from his mind when he went back to the diary, curiosity getting the better of him. The next entry was just a day after the last and the first thing Zayn noticed was how hastily written it was.
April 21, 1960
Dad threw an absolute fit at dinner. I hadn't meant anything by what I said. I swear I didn't!
All I did was mention the new boy that I'd seen in town today when I went to get the groceries for mum. I said I'd introduced myself and he told me his name, and that his family was from Pakistan or India or something like that and dad went absolutely mad.
He said he'd be damned if he had a son that associated with... god, I don't even want to write down what he said. I didn't even try to explain myself, I just rushed off to my room as soon as he had demanded I leave, all red faced and screaming at me every step of the way.
There was nothing wrong with the boy either. He seemed really nice and he's got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. Even Lacy doesn't compare and she's like the prettiest girl in town. He told me he wanted to see me again, but I don't know what to do. How am I supposed to tell him that we can't be friends because my dad doesn't like... people like him?
Zayn felt a little muscle tighten in his jaw, and he looked up toward the painting above the mantle with a cold sort of glare. He'd dealt with entirely too many people like that to have any sort of sympathy for the man. What sort of person threw a fit because their son had stopped to talk with someone foreign? Looking away from the steely gaze of the man in the painting, Zayn's eyes were drawn again to the young man, and this time, he could understand that sad look behind those eyes and in the softness of his expression. It was painful to think that when he finally seemed to have a chance to get a friend, his father had shot him down so immediately like that. Letting his gaze return to the book, Zayn let out a soft little sigh, continuing to read through the rest of the passage.
I just don't want to be alone anymore. Is that really too much to ask for? Why does it matter so much where his family is from? He was born here in England, he's just as much a citizen as we are.
I don't know what to say to him if I see him again. I'd be so embarrassed trying to explain why I'm not allowed to talk to him, but I can't just ignore him. I think it would hurt more to disappoint him than it would to go against what my dad says. I'm just so afraid...
The entry ended there, and Zayn flipped the page to see if something was missing. He didn't even have time to scan through the next entry when the sound of breaking glass and something falling down the stairs made him nearly jump right off the bed. The camera from the second floor landing came tumbling down the stairs, knocking over the camera by the front door as it went. Zayn just sat wide eyed on the bed, staring at the camera where it settled onto the floor, the recording light still blinking, but the lens very obviously smashed out. Before getting up, Zayn reached immediately for the laptop, looking through the last few seconds of that camera's recording. Nothing unusual happened besides the slightest shift of the camera before it was rather suddenly tossed backward. It had been at least two feet in front of the stairs to make sure there was no way for it to fall accidentally, but there it was. He slowed the footage, seeing that it would appear like the camera had been picked up at least a few inches before it was flipped backward. The feed went black with the first impact, and stayed that way even where it laid now. It was as though somebody had picked up the camera and threw it down the stairs in a bout of anger. Shifting to get up, Zayn automatically grabbed his camcorder, letting out a little breath as he slipped on his shoes and crossed toward the cameras. The one that had been set up by the bottom of the stairs was fine when he picked it up to set it back where it had been, checking it over. The other, however, was totally out of order. He turned it off, bringing it back to the living room to just set it off to the side out of the way. Padding back toward the stairs, Zayn turned on the camcorder as he walked up, letting out a soft breath as he recorded over the broken pieces of the lens of the camera scattered down the stairs. He looked over the upstairs landing, letting out a soft breath. There wasn't anything to see other than the broken shards of glass, and Zayn reminded himself to make sure he wore shoes from now on while he was walking through the house. The last thing he needed was a chunk of glass in the bottom of his foot. Padding back down the stairs, Zayn went into the dining room to pick up the camera from there and set it up on the landing, making sure that it was at the other end of the hallway pointed toward the stairs so there was hopefully no chance of losing this one as well. Going back downstairs, Zayn returned to his laptop, carefully watching the feeds to make sure nothing else went wrong.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The top of the tupperware container croaked lightly as Zayn pulled it up, releasing a soft breath as he reached for a plastic fork to begin eating the leftover- cold, spaghetti that he'd made on Friday night for dinner. He reached to look through the cameras, always vigilant to see if anything was going on. It didn't take long though, before his gaze was drawn to the book sitting on the edge of the case where he had left it earlier when the camera had fallen. He put the lid back onto the container before he set it to the side on the bed, reaching to pick up the diary. He flipped it open to the next entry, letting out a soft breath as he pressed to record it, biting lightly at his lip with the very first sentence.
April 23, 1960
I hate listening to him yell at her. I hate him for making her cry. I sat at the top of the stairs today, listening to him going on one of his rampages. I don't know what he broke this time, but something glass smashed downstairs and then he was screaming at mum to clean it up. I heard him hit her and I wanted to go and stop him, but I just sat there.
It was like being frozen, like I couldn't control my own body. My hands hurt from how hard I was holding to the rails of the banister. I thought my knuckles would split open. I'm so happy Ruth and Nicola weren't home to witness it.
When I heard him coming up the stairs, I just stayed quiet, hoping he wouldn't see me. He stomped off to his and mum's room, slamming the door behind him. Only after I was sure he wouldn't be coming back out did I finally get up.
I went downstairs and mum was standing by the sink in the kitchen, her head in her hands, sobbing. I tried to give her a hug. I wanted to make her feel better, but she pushed me away. I didn't know what to do...
Zayn frowned, biting at the inside of his lip as he paused, turning the page gently. He couldn't imagine it. How painful must it have been to see his mother like that, to want to help, to want to feel needed only for her to push him away? This young man was so desperate for some kind of love from anybody in his life, and it broke Zayn's heart to read this, to know that he had gone through so much only to come away with so much pain. "I'm so sorry," He breathed, speaking to the open space of the room as if there might be a reply to the words. "You didn't deserve any of this." The softest of sounds, the gentle creak of a floorboard made him look up, and Zayn let out a shocked gasp as his gaze met with a pair of soft brown eyes. He froze, afraid that if he moved, the apparition would dissappear. The boy from the painting was stood at the foot of the mattress, looking quite tangible, as if Zayn could reach out and touch him. He had that same gentle sadness about him, and as Zayn watched, he opened his mouth as if to speak. He didn't seem to get that far though. In a moment so quick Zayn would have missed it had he blinked, the boy turned wide, terrified eyes toward the base of the stairs before he disappeared. Gone, just like that. "No... no! Wait!" It was too late though, and Zayn knew it. The boy was gone. Releasing a breath, Zayn bit into his lip once more, sitting back with a disappointed breath. He reached up to drag both hands through his hair, shaking his head lightly. Of course. Of course he had seen the absolute most compelling evidence he had ever come across- and totally missed recording it. There was no way he could miss something like that again. Zayn was up on his feet before he could really think about what he was doing, and he pulled on his shoes before he quickly padded into the kitchen to pick up the camera there. He moved it into the living room, setting it up just in front of a large couch at the side of the room pointing past his bed to the bottom of the stairs so he wouldn't miss a single moment. If it was getting serious enough that proper apparitions were appearing, then he would be sure to capture each and every moment he could possibly manage. He also couldn't be leaving early in the morning either. Grabbing his phone, Zayn bit into his bottom lip as he scrolled through the e-mail the owner of the house had sent him, trying to find the phone number he could contact him with. He hated talking on the phone to people, and his heart was already beginning to beat a little faster, but he had to get a hold of the guy now- he couldn't leave it up to sending an e-mail. Who knows how long that would take for him to get. He found the number and copy, pasted it into the phone app, releasing a little breath before he made the call. It rang, and rang, and rang, and when Zayn was just about to give up, someone finally answered. "Yeah hi- go ahead." "Hey, this is Zayn, uh the one you hired to investigate your house.""Oh yeah, that's right. What's up, you find any ghosts yet?" His tone was almost mocking, like he wouldn't believe him even if he did say that he had found anything, so Zayn just forced out a laugh. "Actually mate, I was calling to see if I could get an extra day here. So rather than leaving in the morning, I'd leave on Tuesday instead," Zayn said, biting his lip lightly. "There's just so much shite I need to pack and unpack for this kind of stuff, two full days isn't really enough to set up properly, y'know?""Yeah, yeah, man, I getcha," The owner commented. "I can call up old Sean and tell him not to bother coming till Tuesday morning for you. Wouldn't want to waste his time." "Heh, yeah, thanks mate," Zayn said, wanting nothing more than to hang up right about now. He had better things to be doing than talking on the phone. "That's a real help.""Hey no problem. I wanna make sure the place is fit to be sold y'know. Anyway I gotta get going. I'll call up Sean today." "Great, thanks mate," Zayn repeated, lowering the phone from his ear as the guy hung up. With that out of the way, Zayn immediately moved to grab the diary, hoping that maybe reading more of it aloud the way he had been might trigger something else to happen. Setting the book in his lap, Zayn couldn't help but glance around the room for a moment before he reached for the recorder again. Letting out a soft breath to steady himself, Zayn opened the diary to finish the entry he had been reading before.
Dad stayed in his room for the rest of the day, and mum demanded that I leave the house and leave her alone, so I took a walk down the river to sit under that tree by the bank. I don't know how long I was there, but it was getting dark by the time I started heading home. I didn't even bring any of my books with me, so I had absolutely nothing to do while I sat there besides think.
I hate being lost in my thoughts like that. Sometimes, I just wish that I could run away and leave all of this behind me.
As I was walking home, I saw that boy again. I didn't tell him that we couldn't be friends. I don't care what dad says, I'm going to do what I want to. I suggested that we meet tomorrow and spend some time together. He seemed real excited over the idea and he even hugged me before he headed toward home. Is it weird that I felt sort of warm when he had his arms around me? I can't wait to see him again.
Zayn couldn't help but smile at that, and he tipped his head to the side a little bit. A crush. Cute. He could understand how the Payne boy might be a little unsure of how he felt. It didn't seem like his father was the type of man to be very accepting of anybody he deemed unusual, so the boy had probably never even entertained the thought that he could like other men. He lifted his gaze from the book to glance around the room for a moment, as if expecting to see someone there, but of course everything was quiet and still around him. Releasing a little breath, Zayn reached to gently flip the page, to begin on the next entry. It became immediately clear that this one wasn't going to have at all the same sort of 'happy ending' as the one before it, and Zayn couldn't help but drag a hand through his hair. It was getting more and more difficult to read about all of the abuse that went on in this house. The young man seemed to be so sweet. It was painful to read about all of this shit happening to him over and over again. It broke Zayn's heart.
April 24, 1960
Mum had me go to the store for cigarettes for dad earlier this afternoon. He was on the couch when I left, and he was still there when I got back and when I tried to give the packages to mum, she told me to put them on the coffee table. I could smell the beer on his breath before I got within five feet of him.
He grabbed me when I tried to put the cigarettes down. He left red marks on my wrist from his nails when he tried to pull me down on the couch with him. He said he wanted me to sit and watch the game with him, but I didn't want to get anywhere near him. When I tried to pull away and make an excuse, he flew off the handle. I think mum's still cleaning up the mess he made when he kicked the coffee table across the room.
I've still got a headache from where I hit my head off the wall when he pushed me and I can't move my left shoulder without it hurting too much. He...
Zayn trailed away, reaching to gently slip his fingertips over the way the ink had smudged on the next word, the obvious stain of a tear left behind. Biting into his lip, he couldn't stop the frown that crossed his face, and he swallowed thickly around sudden tears that began to threaten to claw up from his chest. Clearing his throat lightly, Zayn made himself continue, though how much this was getting to him was obvious in the cracks of his voice.
He shoved me up against the wall. His breath was right against the side of my face as he told me how much of a disappointment I was and how he wished he'd just pushed mum a little harder down the stairs when she was pregnant with me. He said I'd never amount to anything besides-
Again Zayn cut off, but this time it was to reach up and wipe at his face with his sleeve. He couldn't imagine how painful it must have been for this poor young man to hear his own father tell him he wished he'd never been born- that he should have been a miscarriage instead. Leaning his forehead lightly on one hand, Zayn forced down the tears to continue, his voice softening substantially.
besides the faggot he believes I am-
"Fucking hell..." Zayn couldn't stop himself from squeezing his eyes closed and he moved the book to the side as he pulled his knees up, dropping his forehead against them. Jesus, what kind of man treated their kids like this? He was so caught up in the wave of disgusted sorrow that came over him, Zayn didn't notice the mattress shift, but he most certainly did notice the soft, static like caress that traced across the corner of his jaw. With a quick inhale, Zayn lifted his head, and although everything in him wanted to scramble away from the touch, he forced himself to stay still even though he could swear his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. Those brown eyes were trained on him again, a soft, sad frown pulling down between the boy's brows. Zayn opened his mouth, not sure what it was that pushed him to speak. Those eyes flicked down toward his lips, and some part of him just knew that the young man was listening. "I'm so sorry," He said again, being met with a little head shake and a small, sad smile. "You deserved so much better."Those mocha eyes flicked down toward the bed to where Zayn had put the book and he looked down to watch the pages flip to another entry. When he looked back, the boy was gone once again and Zayn couldn't stop himself from glancing around the room for him- as if he would be there. He reached to pick up the book to read through the passage that the apparition had apparently wanted him to, and he couldn't help but smile at the first words- though the smile rather quickly faded away to shock.
October 9, 1960
He kissed me! Zane kissed me!
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Come on then, kiss me. I dare you.
I thought he'd been joking. A piece of me almost wanted him to be joking, but as soon as he'd pushed me up against the fence and had his lips on mine, I didn't ever want it to end. He was so close, pressed up against me with his hands curled in the front of my shirt. I was so focused on the kiss I didn't even realize when he reached up to touch my face until I felt it.
His hands were so soft, nothing like when he holds my wrists to pull me along, or when he pushes me around. If I could have his fingertips at the back of my neck for the rest of my life, I would. I would let him play with my hair forever if he wanted to.
When he pulled away from me, I must have looked like a complete idiot with that stupid grin I know was all over my face. He just laughed at me though. He has the most beautiful laugh of anybody I've ever met. I loved how it felt when he stroked his thumb over my cheek the way he did, and I don't know what came over me when he gave me that- what did he call it? An Eskimo kiss?
It felt weird to have somebody's nose that close to mine, but I really didn't mind it when it was him doing it. I wanted to kiss him again. So, I did.
He has this way of going soft when he leans into me, and he made the cutest little noise when I wrapped my arms around him. I never wanted to let go of him. I want to have him pressed against me like that for the rest of forever.
Zayn was about to turn the page to finish the rest of the passage, but before he could, hands closed over his eyes. The shocked little shriek that bubbled up in his chest died in his throat and he tensed slightly as the brightness and warmth of daylight flooded over him. He blinked a few times, realizing belatedly that he was standing in what seemed like a vacant lot close by an old run down warehouse. With how tall the building was, it should have drowned out the bright autumn sun where it beamed onto the pale asphalt, but it hadn't quite set far enough behind the walls to be put off it's course. The slightest breeze was whispering through the trees and the long grass on the other side of the fence, shifting the long stalks gently back and forth across the chain link. Gently, a warm hand slipped into his and Zayn glanced down toward the touch before his gaze was drawn upward. Those brown eyes were gazing at him with a sort of warmness that he'd yet to see in them and the moment their eyes met, the Payne boy smiled- a proper, happy little smile before he looked over toward the building. Zayn would have followed his gaze, but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of him. He was a few inches taller than Zayn was, sort of wild though still soft curled hair swept over his forehead. Just at his right temple there was a mark, and when Zayn tipped his head to get a better look, he realized it was a wound. A few trails of blood had slipped over his skin and they still glistened lightly as though fresh, one traced down over his cheek while the others moved backward more toward his hairline, as if gravity had pushed them that way while he'd been on the ground. He had bruises around his neck, the obvious marks of fingers forever imprinted into his skin. A chain hung around his neck and without even thinking, Zayn reached up. The boy looked at him, the slightest of confused frowns on his face as Zayn gently pulled the necklace from his shirt, unable to stop the little smile that crossed his face. "Batman, huh?" He asked softly, lightly caressing his fingertips over the smooth metal. "Can you talk?" That frown deepened and the young man lifted a hand to lightly touch at the bruises spanning across his throat. He opened his mouth and in the most painful, broken way, he whispered out just a couple words. "Sort of." "What's your name?" Zayn asked, giving his hand a little squeeze. "L-Liam." "Is there something you want me to do- something you need?" "Watch." He pointed across the lot, and Zayn finally tore his eyes away from him to follow the gesture, looking over toward the corner of the building. There was nothing there when he looked, but it only took a moment for a movement to catch his attention. A young man, dressed up all in black right down to his boots and the leather jacket he was wearing pulled Liam around the corner and into the slight shade of the building. He backed himself up against the wall, reaching to wrap his arms around Liam's neck, pulling him closer. There were no words exchanged before they pressed into a slow, rather loving kiss. This was obviously a different one from the one that had been described in the book. They looked quite comfortable with one another, leaning into each other easily. Hands trailed down over Liam's back to where they pushed into the back pockets of his jeans, and he broke from the kiss. "Zane!"A giggle met the exclamation and it took Zayn entirely too long, right up until the first word out of that boy's mouth to realize that he recognized that laugh. "What's the matter Leeyum?" He teased, and Zayn nearly stopped breathing as he heard his own voice speak the words. "I thought you like when I touch you." "Yeah, but-""But what?" The touch on him tightened, hands pulling his hips closer. "We shouldn't do this here.""C'mon jaan. We're alone."Before Zayn could question anything, Liam- the one by his side pointed past the fence, and Zayn saw a flash of blue, the dress of a young woman, possibly a couple years older than Liam as she sprinted across the street toward a pathway into the trees across the way. He didn't recognize her really, but her name crossed his mind as if he had thought of it himself. Ruth. He turned to look up toward Liam, who was watching him quietly, any hint of a smile gone from his face."She told your father."Liam nodded slightly, a little muscle tightening in his jaw as a frown crossed his face. "What happened?"Lifting a hand, Liam gently caressed over Zayn's cheek and a gasp was pushed from him as a pain shot through him and he dropped his head to look down at the hand clutching the hilt of a kitchen knife that was buried deep in his stomach. "You corrupted him." Zayn had absolutely no control over himself as he reached to clutch at anything to keep himself on his feet. A rough hand wrapped in the shoulder of his shirt and the knife withdrew before it was plunged into the softness of his belly again. "I... I l-love him." He grit his teeth together hard enough for them to crack against each other under the strain as the knife twisted and blood poured down his front, spattering profusely onto the ground at his feet. The metal of the knife sang quietly as it was pulled back from his stomach before he felt the blade pierce into him again. He was going weak by this point, his knees shaking under the strain of keeping himself up and the moment the hand at his shoulder released it's hold, Zayn hit the floor, pain shooting through his knees with the impact. Both hands moved to his stomach, shaking fingers slipping through the blood before he tipped his head up, meeting with that steely gaze he'd come to hate so much. The man sneered, and Zayn heard him suck his teeth for a moment before spit splattered over the side of his face and down his neck, dribbling off the edge of his jaw. It took less than a few moments before everything began to fade into blackness and the last thing he heard were the hateful words of the man standing above him."Goddamn fag- I hope you fuckin burn in hell."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zayn jolted awake with a cry, sitting bolt upright on the air mattress in that silent house. Frantically, in a way he couldn't seem to control, both hands moved to clutch at the softness of his stomach, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it up. He calmed just slightly with the feeling of nothing but smooth skin, though it wasn't enough for him to keep down the sob that forced it's way up his throat. Wrapping his arms around himself firmly, Zayn doubled over, his entire body tense with the tremors slipping their way back and forth over him. He felt nauseous, like he might be sick at any moment, his meagre dinner sitting heavily in his stomach. Pulling his legs up, Zayn sobbed into his knees, holding onto himself tightly. He was in complete and utter shock, not sure what to do with himself, or if he should try moving at all. It could be safer to just stay right here. It took many minutes for him to finally begin to calm, and he eventually lifted his head, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve as he tried to catch his breath, hiccupping lightly. Part of him- most of him just wanted to get the fuck out of here, but there was something that forced him to stay. Something that made him get up once he had caught his breath, something that made him move about the house moving all the cameras around. He reset them all, placing one next to his bed and all the others up the stairs toward the bedroom on the third floor. Liam's bedroom, he knew that now. He finished up within a half hour or so, and he padded down the stairs to sit on his air mattress. He knew that he should eat something, but his stomach was still twisted up in nervous knots, and he couldn't bring himself to even look through the cooler. Sitting forward to go through each of his cameras, Zayn reached for his recorder, releasing a little sigh before he pressed the button."I never used to think-" No, that wasn't quite right. Zayn bit his lip lightly, a little frown crossing his face. "Is it possible to see somebody else's death through your own eyes? Somebody else that... Are there such things as doppelgangers do you think? People that look just like you, people that have your voice and your face- even your style of dressing?" Zane- that was the way that Liam had spelled it in his book. "Somebody with your name?" "I don't believe in reincarnation, but... how am I supposed to deny this? I saw him, Liam showed me..."He turned off the recording, running his hands through his hair with a breath. As he lowered his hands dragging his palms down over his face, his elbow knocked into the diary sitting on the edge of the case his laptop was set up on. He looked down toward it, a tightness settling into his throat. Did he really want to read more of the nightmares between the covers? He reached to pick up the book with a soft breath, holding it in his lap between both hands. With a soft breath to steady himself, Zayn pulled the ribbon at the bottom of the book to pull the pages open, beginning to read through the next passage.
I didn't think it was possible to fall in love quite as quickly as I did for Zane. He's just so beautiful and I couldn't want anything more from him. I know that we're going to be happy together for a long time coming.
Zayn bit his lip lightly, tipping his head to the side a little bit. He closed the book with that, unsure of whether he wanted to continue or not. He reached for his jacket, digging through the pockets until he produced a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He didn't quite make it off the air mattress though, a sound up the stairs drawing his attention before he could fulfill his need for nicotine. His heartbeat picked up, and he didn't even think on it as he rushed to grab his handheld camera, turning it on quickly, so used to following every chance of collecting any sort of evidence. He left the pack of cigarettes on the air mattress as he made his way toward the stairs, stepping around the pieces of glass still on the stairwell as he padded up the stairs. He had just reached the second floor landing and a noise above him made him turn to look up the stairs toward the third floor, his eyes widening as he saw the obvious movement of somebody pulling away from the railing overtop of him. He was quick to follow, nearly tripping on the steps about halfway up, having to catch himself, one of his hands coming away from the step absolutely caked in dust, his handprint staying behind on the hardwood. He ignored it though, intent on getting as much evidence as he could manage, hurrying up the stairs. Rounding the corner onto the top floor, Zayn just barely caught the movement of somebody going into one of the rooms from the corner of his eye. It made him pause though. That was Liam's room. Was this Liam? Or somebody else trying to get his attention? This person had been tall and dressed in mostly black besides a pair of faded out jeans, it could have been Liam, but then again...Zayn was careful as he padded toward the doorway, suddenly feeling like he needed to be careful of what was going on- though he couldn't place his finger on just why he would need to worry over anything. In the few years he had been doing this, he hadn't had any issues like this. He was hardly afraid of any of the places he had gone, no matter how dark and creepy they were. Liam's room was as Zayn had left it, caked in dust and absolutely untouched besides a few footprints on the floor and the square of missing dust on the bedside table where the diary used to sit. He still glanced around though, a frown immediately coming to his face as he realized that the tall window across the room was open- and it definitely hadn't been that way before. He walked over toward it slowly, panning the camera around the edges of it, finding no fingerprints or anything in the thick layer of dirt. As he stood there surveying the window, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a scream came from behind him. He spun around, spotting Liam by the door. Those brown eyes were wide, a frown between those thick brows, his mouth hanging open, still caught in the middle of that horrified scream. Hands grabbed hold of Zayn, dragging him backward toward the window. He stumbled over the low sill, his heel catching on the wood of it. He flailed, trying to catch himself, but a shove from a pair of unseen hands sent him hurtling backward from the window. He fell. Over three stories, he plummeted toward the gravel driveway. No thoughts were on his mind besides the horrific thrill of the fall before suddenly- it all stopped. Gravel skittered overtop of itself, settling after a moment as silence overtook the property. The sun was setting over the horizon, turning the evening sky a shade of reddish gold where it touched the mountain peaks. Slowly, birds began to emerge from where they had fled from the disturbance, singing their sweet lullabies to one another as they flitted through the air on their evening search for food. --Blood pooled across the gravel, dying the stones a deep crimson. The camera laid on the ground nearby, the lens absolutely shattered and the plastic of the device battered beyond repair. Footsteps crunched over the drive, voices speaking with one another, though Zayn couldn't hear any details of what was being said. Everything was too bright, seeming to glow from within with an ethereal light before somebody came into focus before his eyes. He recognized those brown eyes and the soft, though sad smile he was greeted with, feeling fingertips slip over his forehead to push his hair back from his face before gesturing for him to take his hand. It was as though Zayn didn't have control over his own body as he reached to take the hand that Liam offered him, letting him pull him up to his feet. He was immediately pulled into an embrace and he couldn't stop himself from settling into it, wrapping his arms around Liam to hold him close. It felt... calming to be held like this and some part of him knew that he was going to be okay now. That everything was going to be okay. Liam pulled back from him, placing a soft kiss against his lips before taking his hand to lead him away from the house. Zayn frowned as he finally noticed all of the people around them. Officers and people with cameras were around almost everywhere, vehicles parked down the drive, some still displaying their flashing lights. Liam wouldn't let him stop though, leading him gently through the sparse crowd. Zayn couldn't help but be curious though and he turned back to look over what was happening. His attention was drawn toward the house again where somebody was kneeled overtop of a figure lying on the ground, taking photographs of the body. Maybe he wasn't supposed to be able to notice, but somehow, even from this distance, Zayn recognized his own body lying there, covered in blood and looking absolutely broken. He stopped, unable to tear his eyes away for the longest moment. It wasn't until a soft hand cupped his cheek to make him turn his head to look at Liam, those soft eyes full of sadness and remorse. Zayn's lips moved to make the shape of the question that jumped to the tip of his tongue, but nothing would come out for a moment, and it felt as if his lungs had forgotten how to work. "Wh..."Liam waited patiently for him to find his voice, gently stroking the pad of his thumb back and forth over Zayn's cheek, their other hands still clasped together. "What hap-" It was so hard to breathe suddenly, feeling as though his ribcage was crushing in upon him and pain was beginning to bloom somewhere near the middle of his body, working slowly outwards. "You died," Liam said, his voice just as rough as the last time they had spoken, his gaze flicking toward the house, directed upward toward the upstairs window, his eyes widening slightly. "We have... t-to go. He can't- reach us yet.. but he w-will."The pain was getting worse, but something about this was making Zayn uncomfortable in a different way and as Liam moved back from him to pull him toward the gate again, he followed. Turning back to look toward the house, Zayn found his gaze shifting from his body on the ground and up over the building. A thrill moved through him and Liam pulled more insistently at him to make him speed up just as he met with the cold, black gaze of Liam's father. He had a trail of blood running down the side of his face from a bullet hole just at his temple and he stared at Zayn with such a cold glare that was full of so much hatred that he had to look away. He turned to follow Liam and together the two of them jogged toward the gates and the blindingly bright street beyond it. As they passed the threshold, the weight and pain spreading up his chest vanished, as did the eyes that were trained so coldly on his back. Liam's hand tightened on his, their steps syncing as they ran down the paved road, away from the house, away from the pain, away from everything.