"Alexa, Who Is In My House?" (Part 3)
Chapter Three
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I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Michael is a great provider and an even better partner, but at this point, we can’t really afford to stay anywhere else. We bought the house because mortgage actually costs less than our rent did. Even so, I’m beginning to really miss our old house on Ash Street. It was a shithole, but it was our shithole.
After my last entry, the day started like any other. I’d nearly forgotten about seeing Michael like that. I even spent the entire day alone in the house working on a new painting, and the time actually flew by. When I told Michael about what was happening and where I found him when he came home that evening, he laughed. It was like he wasn’t sure if I was joking or not.
“You found me like that? I don’t remember that at all. That’s weird. Sorry if I scared you, baby,” he told me. His chuckle didn’t undermine the fact that he was genuinely apologizing.
“I’m not upset. I’m concerned. Do you think we should go to the doctor?” I asked, reclining back against the couch beside him, taking a hit from the pipe I was cradling. I passed it to him.
He took the pipe and scoffed. “No, it’s never happened before. If it happens again, I promise I’ll make an appointment.” He took a hit and spoke through full lungs. “You sure you’re not just high?” he joked.
“Are you fucking kidding me? How does that not freak you out?”
“Well, if we’re lucky, we’ll catch your ghostie on camera when they come in this weekend,” he shrugged.
I’m worried that he’s not taking this seriously. It’s almost like the man I thought would reinforce me and validate me - even provide me with sound logic - is now finding reasons to avoid talking about this. I’ll take anything at this point. Part of me even wishes he would share his skepticism with me like one shares the comfort of warm bread. My best friend who recently moved to the UK told me that he’s probably just being aloof because he doesn’t want to entertain an uncomfortable series of thoughts. She may be right, but I can’t help but feel like it’s intentional, and even she is constantly changing the subject. You guys are the only ones I can trust to guide me at this point.
Last Friday, I put my coffee cup on the dining table and lumbered into the shower at 8:00 as usual, yawning as I let the hot water embrace me. I needed the solace. Michael had already left for work a few minutes earlier - he wakes me up with a kiss goodbye. As I was standing there, I could see a tiny reflection of the bathroom in the glossy shine of the COLD lever.
The shower is surrounded by clear glass so you can see the rest of the room - and be seen. It’s actually quite romantic under different circumstances. But I wasn’t enjoying my shower anymore. I was watching in case something could potentially be behind me… or someone. Half of the time, I could barely manage to look.
In retrospect, I really wish I could’ve stayed in that shower forever, because when I walked into the dining room to grab my cup of coffee, I didn’t understand what I was seeing at first. Initially, I noticed that a dining chair was missing. Then I realized that it was just above where it should be, standing upright, as if a formal dinner party was taking place on top of the table. My coffee cup hadn’t been disturbed as it still sat on its original place beneath them. (Link)
“Jesus fuck,” I gasped, backing against the doorway. I was in shock. I didn’t hear a single thing while I was in the shower, and I could even see partway into that room from the open door of the bathroom. (I avoid closing the door because I’m actually paranoid about intruders and can see them coming that way.) The dogs didn’t even make a ruckus. Everyone knows Walter is notorious for barking at anything, including leaves blowing across the porch, and Tucker will promptly follow suit no matter the reason. But there they were, asleep on their sides in the living room.
I hauled ass back into the bathroom to retrieve my phone. It took everything inside of me not to just start throwing those chairs off the table to return everything to where it belonged, but I needed the evidence. That’s when I took the picture. I needed you guys to see this. I need someone to know what’s happening. This wasn’t normal. None of this is normal.
I just couldn’t understand how this could happen. How could the chairs have moved, and my dogs didn’t? It’s a classic superstition that animals can detect unrest in a home, but here mine were, completely oblivious, it seemed.
My luminol had come in the day before and I was actually just preparing to use it, so I assembled the kit after I fixed the table. The instructions were in Spanish, so it took a while. I mixed it in the kitchen and poured the solution into a spray bottle. You can see a photo of what I was using here. (Link)
Luminol is an easily acquired product that forensics investigators use to see trace evidence of iron in hemoglobin. The object will glow blue if blood came into contact with it. I looked it up to make it at home but it seemed pretty difficult so I just ordered it.
I headed for the hallway, spritzing a fine mist over the entire thing. I gave it a minute, but I had to watch intently. Luminol only works for about 30 seconds, according to the packaging. When I saw the glow starting to emerge, I made sure that I got the best exposure possible and used the slow shutter function on my phone. After about ten mississippi, the blue blotches became clear.
You can see what I saw right here. (Link)
The image may be darker on some screens than others. Michael could hardly see it on his phone. I showed him right away when he got home, but he argues that it could be anything. Me, on the other hand? Yeah, not so sure.
I couldn’t believe it. I had been right this whole time. I dropped to the floor on my knees, just staring between my phone and the floor.
Now, to be fair, I want to tell all of you a bit about this. Though luminol is most often used to detect blood at a crime scene, it’s worth noting that it can pick up other bodily fluids along with fecal matter and a small amount of blood found in urine. This is because it can pick up a small number of chemicals in excretion. However, forensic investigators find this mixture useful because not only does it detect blood, but it can detect if someone tried to “clean up”. Even clothes that have been washed up to ten times can still react to traces of blood highlighted with the luminol. This was a very highly concentrated area.
It was time to start setting some traps.
The cameras still hadn’t arrived the next day and the USPS tracking service said delivery was delayed until the next business day. I would have to wait until Monday. It was Friday, and because my car was being repaired for a leak, my dad had to give me a ride to the shop that day. My work schedule is erratic while Michael’s is about the same as everyone else’s - 8:30 AM to 5:30 PM. I left the house at around 11 AM for a short day, but before I left, I closed all of the doors in the hallway and double-checked them.
Once again, I kissed my dogs goodbye and they took their usual spot on the couch. When I got home at about 2:00, I glanced up from the mud room while taking off my shoes. I could see light pouring in from the left side of the hallway.
The guest room door was open.
I pounded barefoot down the hallway and yanked the door shut without looking inside. I fished my dead phone out of my pocket and plugged it in at the PS4 in the living room.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I muttered, waiting for the battery icon to appear. A few seconds later, it blipped up to 1%. I held down the power button and the orange Verizon screen faded in. When my cover screen appeared, I rocketed into my messages. Here are the messages between Michael and I. Screenshots are at the bottom.
K: “So I did an experiment this morning.”
“I went through the house and cleared and closed every door to the point where I heard it latch I came home and checked the doors and the door to the guest room was halfway open”
M: “Weird….”
K: “It’s creepy”
M: “So what your [sic] saying is you want a locking door handle….”
K: “LOL MAYBE DAMN”
M: “One that locks from the outside...”
That's really not a bad idea. I can’t help but find humor in all of this. This can’t be happening, can it? Am I becoming hysterical? I have to keep things light with Michael. Lately, we’ve been bickering about the doors. Every time I bring any of this up, he’s quick to find a ridiculous explanation. The dogs got back there and pushed the door open somehow; the hinge isn’t tight enough; I’m forgetting to close the doors myself and I just don’t realize it. But I need him as a witness, too. He’s acting like I’m just calling it as it happens, when truthfully, it’s in the back of my mind all the time now - lurking, prodding, scratching.
It was hardly a day before I found myself in the throes of darkness again.
I snapped awake in the middle of the night. I had to pee, so I crossed the hallway and into the first bathroom - the one with just a tub and no shower. I like it better these days because it’s closer to the safety of my bed.
While I was sitting there, squinting in the light, I could hear the distinct sound of periodic creaking across the boards, as if someone was tiptoeing up the hallway towards me. I tensed up, ceasing mid-stream to listen.
It stopped. I waited to make sure nothing else caught my attention before finishing my business. As I reached for the toilet paper, the light went out.
Again, the room seemed to expand. The reassuring glow from the living room night light wasn’t visible like it always was. Where the door would be was nothing but more void. I swallowed my breath and held it deep in my gut when I felt the moisture in the air, wondering if “it” was going to happen again. I couldn’t stand up. All I could do was weep into my knees, begging for it to stop. I heard the slapping again, but this time, it was right at my feet. I was at the room’s mercy.
I could hear Alexa’s distant voice from the direction of the bedroom.
“THAT’S NOT VERY NICE TO SAY.”
I tried to shut my eyes again, hoping my grandmother’s trick could save me this time. But this wasn’t a dream, and in my heart, I knew it probably wouldn’t do much good. I did it regardless - it’s not like I could see anything in the room anyway.
I squinted my eyes so tightly this time that it made my cheeks ache. I rose my hands up and pressed my lids as hard as I could with my fingertips. My face was still between my knees, so when I opened my eyes, I could see a reddish glow from my lap. I lifted up my head. The light was on again, and at my feet on the floor was James, my stuffed fox from my childhood, staring up at me with his floppy head tilted slightly to the right.
I snatched James off the floor, darting into the bedroom. I clambered onto the foot of the bed to thrust myself into the covers and into the comfort of Michael’s arms, but when I got there, I noticed he was sitting up, staring at the closet. A moment later, he lay down as if he had never risen.
I stayed as far away from him as possible, curled up on the other side of the mattress until the sun bled through the window. In the morning, I pulled bedroom Alexa’s plug.
“Kick, you’re just making shit up at this point!” Michael snapped at me in the grocery store parking lot Sunday afternoon as I hurried after him. My short legs could barely keep up.
“I’m not! He was right there at my feet! I swear I didn’t take him into the bathroom with me. Why would I ever do that?!” I was trying to tell him about my theory that our “room mate” was trying to accomplish something - perhaps even turn him against me.
Michael halted and pivoted to look at me, pointing his finger in my face. He was turning red in his ears, his dark skin and black hair seeming to be lacking the glow I’d known and loved about him. Actually, his tone scared me a little. He’d never been in my face like that before. People had begun to stare.
“Someone HAD to put James there, and it isn’t cute anymore! Are you just looking for attention? Am I not enough for you anymore?” His voice was low, but cutting. He was trying not to make a scene.
“What?! I’m not lying to you, damn it. Please believe me,” I begged quietly. I felt the sting of salty tears on the rims of my eyes. I was just so tired.
“Well, whoever did it probably did it because they’re sick of your shit, too.” And with that, he stormed into the store, and we didn’t share a word for the rest of the trip.
When we got home, I put away the groceries on my own while Michael went out to brood in his shed. I didn’t see him for the rest of the evening until dinnertime. I swear the days are getting shorter even though spring is on its way. I barely remembered he was out there until I saw the sky turning orange. I dragged myself across the yard, past the hot house, and to the shed’s door. I rapped on the wooden frame.
“Michael, it’s dinnertime.”
I got no response, so I pushed one of the double doors slightly ajar.
“Michael, can we talk?”
He was huddled over his workbench, working on who knows what. He grunted. “About what?”
“You were really upset with me earlier.”
He turned to face me now.
“I’m just so tired lately, babe. I’m tired of us fighting over this stupid house. I’m tired of you nagging me and calling me worthless.” He was different now and he looked like the man I loved, but I was distracted by what he’d just said. I’d never told him he was worthless. Ever.
“What? I never said that. I love you! You’re everything I live for. Don’t you see that?”
“See?!” he bellowed, throwing a piece of wood onto the concrete floor in frustration. The clatter was loud and made me jump. “You love me one minute, and hate me the next! What is it you want?! Like, what is your fucking problem exactly?!”
Tears threatened to climb their way back up again, so I turned and closed the door. I finished dinner myself. A few hours later, I crawled into bed alone. It wasn’t long before I sensed Michael in the doorway. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him yet. I didn’t understand what was happening with us.
“If I catch you playing tricks again, I will end you.”
Michael’s voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard come from him before. It was twisted, deep, and riddled with malice. It almost sounded like a stranger. I yanked a hand up to cover my mouth, stifling a sob. The floorboards creaked and I heard him turn back into the hallway and go into the living room. Alexa’s blue light glimmered across the wall, but I didn’t care. I hardly know my husband anymore. The tears that had been teasing me all day had now won as I wept until the oblivion of sleep took me over.
By the time Monday morning had come, I was furious. Michael had never threatened me like that before. He had already left for work when I woke up - this time, without my kiss. I could have never imagined this. It was like he was sick of looking at me. I know that it’s possible that whatever is in this house is trying to turn him against me, but I’m dismayed to realize that it’s proving to be successful. Well, I had promised myself in the past that I would never suffer another abusive relationship, and Michael was getting dangerously close to being alone in this damn house. I wonder if it’s not our “room mate” at all, and that that’s what he’s wanted all along. When I checked bedroom Alexa yesterday, she was plugged back in.
Everyone, I’m really wondering if this isn’t all just a trick. Could Michael be trying to get rid of me? Was it actually him that planted James? He’s been acting so strange and his behavior has done nothing but escalate. He’s also the one that has the Alexa app on his phone, as mine won’t do much since the left side of my screen doesn’t work and I still have a few months on my mobile contract. I’m just so lost and I don’t know who to trust anymore - especially if I can’t even trust Michael. We have barely spoken at all, and when I turned my back on him to go into the kitchen last night, I heard him mutter under his breath from across the room.
“Dumb bitch.”
That hurt more than anything this house could throw at me.
I don’t know what’s taking the post so long, but these cameras were supposed to be delivered yesterday. I’ll have to call customer service. I want to leave, but… where would I go, honestly? Michael controls all of the funds.
Woah, I’d better get ready for dinner. I didn’t notice how much time has passed since I started this.
Update soon.
####Go to Chapter Four
Posted Mar 6, 2018, 10:40 PM UTC · edited