The Disappearance by Gillian Chan

Author:Gillian Chan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Annick Press Ltd
Published: 2017-07-12T17:26:23+00:00

Chapter Seven

It was dumb. I took my time in the bathroom, making sure that I kept the taps running, that I splashed noisily as I washed—anything to fill the room with sound. I kept looking around—I had this sense that someone was watching me—but there was no one. But I couldn’t do that forever, and I started to sweat again as I forced myself to walk down the silent corridor and into our room.

Nothing.

It was just an empty room, barer than most. The only reason you would know that it was even occupied was that I’d left a bunched-up T-shirt on the dresser top. I hesitated in the doorway, sniffing like a dog.

I took my time getting ready for bed, again making a point to be noisy. The silence bothered me: I kept thinking that at any moment I might hear voices start up, the voices I had heard when I found Jacob under the bleachers. I had never heard anything like that before. The voices were quiet but they filled the space eerily. Some sounded like sobs, others were hisses—all of them freaked me the fuck out. It was stupid, I know: it was Jacob who could speak to the dead, not me. With him not here, I had nothing to fear. But I couldn’t help it. I got this picture in my head of the room being filled with unseen presences. I tried reading, but that was a no-go. I couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. I gave up eventually and switched off my bedside light. I didn’t fall asleep, though, just lay there.

Then I really did hear something and was instantly hyperalert, sitting bolt upright trying to pinpoint what it was and where it was coming from. When I switched on the light, the room was empty.

The noise was a rustling, scratching sound and seemed to be coming from the closet. My heart was racing and I could feel clammy sweat forming on my forehead. I tried telling myself that it was just mice, or maybe a squirrel in the attic above. Medlar House was old; it could have been. The noise kept on: if anything it was getting louder, like something was trapped in there and struggling to get out.

I couldn’t take it anymore, so I launched myself off the bed and flung open the closet door. Jacob and I didn’t have much in the way of clothing, but I could see that most of it was off the hangers and covering a struggling, writhing lump on the closet floor. My windbreaker was on top. My hand trembled when I reached down to pull it off.

Adam blinked up at me, looking for all the world like a small rat in a nest of clothes.

I grabbed his arm and hauled him up.

“What the fuck are you doing here? You scared me shitless.”

He was shaking and that made me feel bad. I tried to keep the anger and shock at bay and pushed him down so he was sitting on Jacob’s bed, facing me.

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