Cross Stitch: Part One (complete)

Trauma can cause many changes to a person, most of them can be explained by psychology, and possibly healed with therapy. But after my father passed away, the change that occurred inside me wasn’t one that could be explained. It wasn’t something anyone took seriously, so I learned to ignore it and locked it away.

I didn’t fully understand this until I met my husband. He was performing a study and needed people who had suffered some sort of trauma in their lives, whether due to accident, crisis, abuse, or just something that would have caused an individual a lot of suffering. He believed that this agony could open a third eye in people and allow them to better connect with powers relating to the supernatural. I had nothing better to do, so I decided to see what this strange man was talking about.

I was reluctant to admit that I had been plagued by visions. I had been seeing strange things in the corner of my eye, choosing to pretend there was nothing there, when in reality there was always something twitching at the periphery.

My future husband, Dr. Ivan Young, was a man of science as well as a firm believer in the supernatural. He talked about demons, ghosts, past lives, and powers that could allow humans to touch these creatures. He was handsome, charismatic, and excited to begin this study with the few people who showed up.

Through him, I realized that the things twitching at the corner of my eye wanted to be looked at. I could see those who existed elsewhere, who had not yet fully moved on, trapped here between us and the veil.

“Some people can’t see through the veil, but you can,” Ivan whispered to me. “Your eyes have been opened and you truly see the world. You see everything.”

I fell for him so easily that I often chastise myself today. By the time we were married, Ivan had taught me to utilize my sight. I didn’t just see through the veil, I could move through it if I focused hard enough. It was a skill Ivan and I continued to strengthen every day. Or we did, until we discovered I was pregnant. Ivan decided it would be best to rest, to study, and to let the veil remain closed for a while, for the safety of the baby.

We had been working together for a while, combining our skills to help those who had been afflicted by the other side. We had been able to help some rebuild their lives, or simply stop potential threats before they could reach them. But to keep the fetus safe, we decided to stop taking such jobs.

Then one day, I received a letter from a young woman named Marni. She had inherited a rather large estate, one she hadn’t been aware of before. The news was a shock to her, but what she experienced within the walls of the house was much worse. She sent pictures with her letter, as well as the ripped pages of an old diary.

“I read about you some time ago,” she said in her letter. “I never wanted to believe such things. In fact I was taught, if anything, the only ‘souls’ that could haunt a person were the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. But this house has something that is not of God trapped inside. I hoped that this place could be used by the church in some way. It’s far beyond my means and would serve better as a home for the needy. But I would sooner burn it than let anyone else inside. I’m afraid that by even opening the doors, I have unleashed something into the world.

“I have done my research on the place and while the house has remained abandoned for some years, it has become a place for the local college students to gather. Apparently, some have gone missing during nights here. They dare each other to enter for fun, but I doubt there is anything fun here. I do not believe that anything I have come across is the work of students either. I have witnessed strange things many times and nothing about them speaks of childish antics.

“Something else I discovered is that the previous owner of the house, Erique Atherton, was known as something of a ladies man. While married, he carried on countless affairs and this used to cause bitter fights between him and his wife. I know what you’re thinking and while I do not believe martial tiffs are the cause of the wickedness in this house, I do think it is connected. Mr. Atherton’s wife, Ethelinda, was a well-loved and highly-sought seamstress. They said her dresses could assure marriage for any girl who wore them. But I found news articles detailing some of Ethelinda’s less-than-favorable reviews. Sometimes, when she and Erique were in the middle of a fight, she would forcibly push pins and scissors into the women she made dresses for. She was taken to court over the matter, but Erique’s influence got her off. There are no reports of anything else, until Ethelinda reported Erique missing.

“I am trying to include as much information as I possibly can. It may seem superficial to some, but I am trusting my gut and God. I knew God had sent that article about you to me, so I trust God has guided us together for a reason.

“I trust you will not laugh at me, but I wish to laugh at myself. I told you before, I never believed in things like this, but even this place could make the staunchest critic realize there are powers beyond the holy and the mortal. Mrs. Young, I have heard and seen things. There is something gnawing at the back of my neck, and its breath upon flesh as I write this to you. I beg you and your husband to help me. I do not know what to do, where to turn, or what to believe. I have been praying, but for the first time in my life, I fear that my prayers will not reach God and that is the most frightening thing of all.

“Yours in Christ, Sister Marni Abernathy”

I touch the back of my neck, knowing all too well the feeling she just described. Teeth and breath at the nape of my neck is something I deal with even now.

Ivan steps into my office and I quickly move my hand away from my neck. “Amy, what's the matter?”

I shuffle the pages before me, spreading out the photographs so Ivan can see. “I was looking at this letter. This poor girl needs help.”

Ivan glances over the photographs. “Then refer her to the Stevens. We’re not working right now.” He picks up a photograph, eyeing it closely.

“I don’t want to send her to the Stevens.” I am uncertain of their abilities, as well as annoyed by them and their claims. “They’re hacks, Ivan.”

“And I don’t want you getting hurt.” Ivan looks back at the photograph. “What did this woman say?”

“She’s a nun, so she was very hesitant to even ask.” I smooth my fingertips over the pages of the diary. “She says she’s seen things in this house and she doesn’t know what to call them, but she’s seen the worst she could possibly imagine.”

He’s still focused on the picture. “Then why doesn’t she just sell the house and let someone else deal with it?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Did you not hear me, dearest? I said she’s a nun. She doesn’t want this evil getting into the world. She feels it’s her duty now to guard the door.” I flick the picture in his hand. “You see it too, don’t you?”

“There’s a man… no, a creature behind that clock.” He sets the photo down with a grimace. “We’re not going. I know you have a fondness for the church, but just because some poor little nun asked you for help, that doesn’t mean it’s your duty.”

“Ivan,” I scold.

“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me. We agreed it was best for you to rest your abilities while you were pregnant. We don’t know what would happen to the baby.” He tries to give me those sweet puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I stand up from the desk. “I think we should go and at least look at this place. If we refer her to the Stevens, we could be sending them to the slaughter.”

“If they’re hacks, they should be safe then.” Ivan gives me a kiss. “If anything, they can be canaries in the coal mine.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit cruel, Ivan? They’re our friends.”

Ivan smirks at me. “Do you call all your friends hacks?”

We ended up giving the job to the Stevens and we believed that to be the end of it. I tried to forget the letter, but I kept it, and often returned to it. About a week later, we receive a phone call that chills me to the bone.

Linda Stevens had been found unconscious behind the house with her fingers stitched together and her hair chopped off in chunks. A search of the house was initiated and Hank Stevens was declared missing. Linda was unresponsive for the first few days after she was found. Then she started talking, but she had no idea who she was or what happened to her husband in that house. She had a strong reaction to scissors, though. Any time she glanced at a pair, it sent her into a panic attack that made her violent.

Immediately, Ivan feels responsible. He takes money from our savings to pay for Linda to go to an assisted-living home. After that, he sits alone with the photos and torn pages of the diary until one day he comes out of the office with a grave look on his face.

“You should stay here, but I’m going to that house.”

I shake my head. “I’m not staying here. I’m going with you. You’re useless without me.” I take his hand and kiss his palm. “It will be alright. We know what we’re doing.”

He touches my face, then places his hand around my belly. “What if you end up like Linda or vanish like Hank?”

“I won’t.”

He leans in close to whisper to me. “What if I do?”

“I won’t let it happen.”

His hand slides around to cup the back of my neck. “What if he finds you?”

“He’s gone,” I say assuredly. “He’s long gone.”

Ivan and I pack our bags and leave. The town the house belongs to is small, looking almost abandoned. The sight of old homes and a modern shopping center is quite strange. Most of the houses have been turned into fraternity and sorority houses for the nearby college, so we see lots of young people wandering around the streets.

The old house is down a dirt road on a steep hill. The road we drive descends through trees that turn to hedges that turn to brambles, and then to concertina wire. The place is surrounded by barbed wire and warning signs. As we pull up to the house, I see a young woman praying in front. She rises from the dusty stoop as our car approaches.

I get out of the car and look up at the old Victorian manor. Moss and vines have overtaken the brick, but the windows remain untouched, looking almost as new as they day they were installed. There is a weight on my chest as I look at this place, heavy and growing in pressure. The air around the house appears dark, even though it’s nearly noon and the sun is unclouded in the sky.

“I can’t believe you came,” the nun whispers in disbelief. She seems to almost smile, but quickly covers it. “After what happened to your friends, I was certain I would never see anyone here again.” Marni isn’t as young as I had first assumed, but she is very beautiful. She’s wearing modest clothes, but on her frame even they look fashionable. Her dark green eyes, strawberry-blond hair, delicate freckles and button nose give her an eternally youthful appearance.

“We owe it to Linda and Hank to see this through,” I reply. “Or at least bear witness to what is happening here.” There is a flutter at the back of my neck, but I excuse it as a breeze.

Marni looks to my husband, who is staring intently at the house. “I found more pages.” She takes her bible and pulls out more torn pages of the diary. “I’m starting to believe it belonged to the lady of the house. I know what I mentioned in the letter, but I’m starting to believe there was more to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton than that.”

The pages I was given before were written by someone timid and afraid that their diary would be found, they seemed hesitant to open themselves up entirely. The words were sparse, written with a skilled hand and big letters. These new pages, though, are nearly black with cramped writing. Ivan and I both look over them as Marni keeps her hands clasped together.

Mrs. Atherton describes a difficult pregnancy, as well as the sudden pregnancy of her maid Mary Alice, who she says is unmarried. She goes into detail about her husband’s neglect of her while pampering Mary Alice. She falters between joy about prospective motherhood and anger directed at her husband.

“Classic case of philandering husband and maid,” Ivan murmurs.

As I look at the pages, I can almost feel a calm from the woman who wrote them. I don’t sense rage or sorrow on the pages, but a calculated cool in them. “I wouldn’t say it’s so simple, Ivan.” I glance up at him and shake my head. “I think there is more at play here than an unfaithful husband.”

Marni’s expression goes from a grimace to surprise. “How can you tell, Mrs. Young? Is it because of your… powers?”

“I wouldn’t call them powers,” I chuckle. “I just feel things and sometimes I can see them. It’s only a matter of opening your eyes a bit more. I’m sure you can understand that - you must have a deeper knowledge of God than most.”

Marni’s smile seems forced. “I suppose I can understand that. Ever since I vowed to never go back into that house I stay out here, praying.”

“All day?” Ivan asks.

“To keep people away from this place. And hopefully, too keep things inside.” She motions back up the hill. “I’m sure you saw this place is filled with young people attending the college. I was not aware when I reached out to you, but apparently, it’s a custom to come down here, get drunk, and stay in the house as long as possible.”

Ivan arches a brow. “You never noticed anything that would allude to that? No beer cans? No scattered cigarette butts?”

“No, sir.” She shakes her head. “I half expected it when I first came to see this place. But the house looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. As I mentioned in the letter, I was told there had been some accidents on the property because of the partying.”

Ivan and I share a look. He adjusts his glasses and nods, agreeing with me without saying a word. “Has anyone who has come here gone missing, besides Hank Stevens?” I ask Marni.

Marni furrows her brow. “Yes,” she answers with a stiff nod. “But I was told it was something that shouldn’t be blamed on a house.”

Ivan starts walking, studying the foundation of the house and inspecting the stairs. “So how did you come to inherit this place? You never knew your family owned it?”

“I never knew my family at all, Mr. Young.” Marni watches him, seeming almost upset that he’s touching the building. “I was left with the Sisters of Mount Sinai and they raised me. I never knew I had anything to my name until...” Her voice fades as she looks back at the house.

“Could it have been an accident?” I ask.

Marni shakes her head regretfully. “I thought so, too. But when the lawyer was telling me of my inheritance, he also gave me a document signed by the mother superior who took me in when I was abandoned. It detailed the date, time, and even the weather during my arrival at the Sisters’. It had my name, specified how I should be educated, and even stated how much money the mother superior was given. I...” She shakes her head again and clasps her hands over her chest. “I thought that was the shock of my life.”

Ivan stands at the foot of the stairs. “What happened to you inside?”

“Fingers,” she whispers.

A chill rushes down my spine. I remember the state that Linda Stevens was found in with her fingers sewn together.  “Fingers?”

“It felt like the house grabbed me and pulled me inside.” Marni looks at the door. “I brushed it off. We’ve all been told ghost stories about haunted houses. Of course, I thought this old place was spooky.” She sighs heavily, pressing her lips into a firm line. “I tried ignoring it. I prayed. I invited God in.” She looks to the doors and her eyes widen. “And as much as this terrifies me, God never came.”

Ivan hisses through his teeth. “That’s haunting.”

Marni clasps her hands together. “I don’t know what to do. My church doesn’t believe me, they think I’m making up stories. But this is not what I was taught to believe.”

“Maybe we should go inside, and see what we’re dealing with.” Ivan holds his hand out to me. “Watch your step, love.”

I take his hand, but as soon as I mount the steps, it feels like someone pulls my hair. I turn around to see only Marni standing at the foot of the stairs. “Will you be accompanying us?” I ask her.

“Never again,” she whispers to me. “I am sorry. I cannot go with you this time, Mrs. Young.”

I keep a firm hold of Ivan’s hand, stepping onto the porch and coming to the door. We both take a deep breath and his thumb rubs the center of my palm. Ivan’s reflection in the glass looks to me. “Are you sure about this, Amy?”

“As long as we stick together, we can’t be separated inside.” I squeeze his hand extra-tight. “Agree with me.”

Ivan nods. “I agree with you.” He opens the door, and we step into the silent house.

I hold my breath as the weight upon me becomes undeniable. I draw closer to Ivan, straining to hold his hand tightly enough. Ivan’s head turns slowly, looking around the foyer as if expecting something to jump from around a corner. “Well,” Ivan breathes, “do you notice anything?”

I look up along the crown moulding and the ceiling. I see jagged lines cut through the plaster. I follow them, thinking they’re cracks, until I see something hanging from the corner. I stare at it, trying to figure out what it could possibly be, before it suddenly falls. Sharp points spin and stab into the floorboards before us.

Ivan pushes me behind him and we stare at the pair of scissors buried in the floor. Ivan’s eyes dart around again and he slowly lets me step closer. I approach the scissors, kneeling in front of them. There’s blood on the handle, dried and rusted onto the blades.

I look back at Ivan, who nods unsteadily. I touch the handle, gently placing my fingertips on the black surface. My eyelids flutter and my throat grows tight. I gasp and pant as my shoulders begin to rock. My chest heaves, pushing forward as my neck cranes back.

There’s a man standing over a woman on the floor. Her screams grow weaker as the puddle of blood under her widens. A baby cries and screams as the man slowly lifts it up and scissors drop to the floor. “Are you happy now?” The man is sobbing.

I scream from my gut, coughing and wheezing as Ivan pulls my hand away from the scissors. He looks at me, terrified and in disbelief. I gaze back into his eyes and clear my throat. I catch my breath and rise on shaky knees.

“I’ve never seen you react so strongly,” Ivan whispers. He holds me while I get used to my legs again. “I thought you were becoming possessed.”

I feel fingers stroking the back of my neck, but I ignore them. “I think something wanted too, but it was...” I squint my eyes tight and rub the bridge of my nose. “Give me a moment. I’ll tell you what I saw.”

“Let’s go back outside.”

I hear the baby crying again, somewhere inside the house. I look back over my shoulder. Standing in the dark hallway, I see a man dressed all in black with his mouth sewn shut. He raises a hand from the shadows.

“Amy,” Ivan urges. “Amy!”

I barely hear him. The man in the hall has stolen my attention. His fingers are broken and twisted, wrapped around the handles of a pair of scissors. He raises the blades to his sewn lips as if to tell me to be silent. His other hand slips from the shadows, stretching out on an arm that seems too long. The scissors squeak and clack as he opens and closes them.

I cry out, feeling a horrible sharp pain in my belly. Ivan hurries me outside, picking me up and carrying me down the stairs. He runs me to the car, getting me inside as Marni chases after us.

“What happened?” Marni cries. “What’s wrong? Please! You have to help me, don’t go just yet!”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay here,” Ivan says. “We can’t help you.”

Marni looks as though she’s about to wail in anguish. “You can’t leave me! You have to stay! I need you! Please!”

I struggle against Ivan, trying to push him away as he straps me into the car. “Let me go, Ivan!”

“Don’t ‘Ivan’ me!”

I force myself out of the car. “We’re not leaving!”

He stares at me in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

I turn and look back up at the house.

“Amy!” Ivan yells at me.

When I was young, I used to hear babies crying as I tried to sleep. I thought it was a nightmare, because I was the only child in the house. My father used to lock my bedroom door at night, but one night he forgot. I heard a baby crying, so I got out of bed to find it. The cry I heard in that house reminds me of that night.

“I can’t leave just yet,” I whisper desperately to Ivan. “There’s something...” I lick my lips and catch my breath. “There is someone in there who needs me.”

“Someone?” Ivan balks.

“Someone,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck.

Ivan takes my hand, moving it away. “I don’t think this is someone you can save, Amy. We need to go home. This place is too much for us now.”

“Did you hear it?” I ask.

Ivan remains quiet.

I grab him and shake him. “Did you hear it?”

Ivan averts his gaze. “You heard it.” I release him. “You heard the baby crying.”

Marni cups her hand over her mouth. “A baby? In such a place?”

“We need to go, Amy,” Ivan quietly commands. “I’m not risking you or our baby.”

I shake my head. “I can’t leave, I told you. I know this is risky, but deep inside me, I know this is where I need to be. Something in there is begging for my help. Maybe it’s Hank! Maybe it’s just...” I throw my arms out. “I can’t explain it, all I can say is that I know. But I need you to believe me.”

Ivan’s brow pinches and he looks to the house. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he squeezes me tightly and kisses me. “I do. That’s why I’m so hesitant.”

I look over to Marni, who has her hands clasped in prayer. I extend my hand out to her. “Will you please pray with us before we start planning what to do?”

“Are you sure?” She shakes her head. “Yes, of course. How silly of me.”

She approaches cautiously, taking my hand, then Ivan’s hand. She bows her head as she begins to pray. I look into Ivan’s eyes. I know he’s uncertain and I am too, but this house needs to be cleared. The veil is open inside, and any who step through those doors have passed between and could become trapped forever.