Trying hard not to hear,
but they talk so loud

Their piercing sounds fill my ears,
try to fill me with doubt
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍

THE NIGHTMARE WAS ALWAYS THE SAME. Paralyzed, naked, cold. Hazel often saw the Wailing Woman. The lady was a mere silhouette, with no face, no outstanding features. Her form-fitting nightgown was a dusty white as it pooled around her like liquid silk. The woman would stare at the younger girl, before lifting her bleeding wrists and wailing. It was the kind of scream that made your blood run cold. It pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway.

The small girl would let out a sharp gasp, lurching forward in her bed and scanned quickly around each corner of the room and every piece of furniture. Desperate to see if she was no longer alone. That night, Hazel let out short, quick pants and fell back against the bedding. Engulfed with large blankets to try and find solace.

She tried to gain courage like always
Closing her eyes tightly and refusing to look in the dark corners of the room or the shadows outside her window.

However, she couldn't fall into her deep slumber again no matter how hard she tried. She continued to shuffle and move side to side in the small bed nevertheless, she couldn't shake the feeling of trepidation.

So, quickly throwing the covers off her body, she scurried across the room and ran towards Luke and Nellie's room.

Hazel walked into the twins room like the floor would give out under her tiny body mass. Every step was so light that she made no sound at all. She was so afraid yet still she came, walking softly forwards.

"Hazel?" Lukes gentle, tired voice called from his bed as he was woken by the high pitched squeal of the bedroom door.

Turning to the smaller boy, she watched as he rubbed both eyes underneath his glasses. "Are you okay?"

However, before she could reply she heard Nellie, in the bed to her left, begin to scream. It was a voice of pure terror that sounded wrong in her childish voice. Her scream was the kind of sound that bypassed anyones logical thinking and went direct to their emotional response. High pitched and raw, it was the sound of a child in pain.

Steven Crain had heard his younger sister scream and made his way towards Nellie's room as fast as he could, as the young girls scream faded into ragged sobs.

"You okay, Nellie?" The older boy asked, his concern for his younger sister clear within his tone. He gazed at Eleanor for a moment before he noticed the third figure in the room.

"Hazel? Did you have another nightmare?" The young girl nodded her head mutely.

"I get scared too sometimes. Why are you awake, Luke?"

Lukes scrawny legs dangled over the edge of his bed, not yet reaching the ground as he answered. "'Cause Hazel and Nellie are awake."

"What was it?"

Hazel watched as her friends throat bobbed, anxiety written over Nellies face. "The bent-neck lady."

As soon as the young Slate girl heard the name of the woman, she desperately tried to hide how fearful she was. She could control the tremor in her quiet voice to a degree. She could consciously will her body movements to be less stilted. She could make himself smile somewhat even if it looked pasted on. However, she could never ignore the fear. The fear that was rooted so deep within her soul.

"Was the wailing woman here too?"

Hazel didn't reply, too fearful to respond. However, she did keep her head buried in her woollen blanket, her brown tufty hair in frizzy curls showing she had just woken up from a long sleep. Her fingers curled into the fabric, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure her she wasn't dreaming. She was awake.

"Oh, them again?" Hugh said suddenly from the doorway, walking slowly towards the edge of Nellie's bed.

"I guess we better take a look. Here, huh?"

"Your big brother must have scared them away." Mr Crain glanced up and smiled warmly. Hazel tried to return the smile, but her lips barely twitched.

"Big brothers are good like that. I guess everybody can go back to bed now."

However, after seeing the fearful expressions of the three children, Hugh knew they wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night.

"You remember what we talked about before..." He questioned softly, wrapping his arms around Hazel as he lifted her from the ground and placed her beside him on Nellie's bed. "About our dreams."

"They can spill." She muttered, simultaneously she wrapped both her arms around Hughs left arm.

"That's right. Just like a cup of water can sometimes spill. But kids dreams are special sometimes." As he spoke, Hazels eyes followed the man's movements, studying his facial micro-expressions.

"They're like..."

"An ocean." All of the children responded in unison.

"Now, I know the Bent-Neck Lady and the Wailing Woman are really scary. But that's all they are. Just a little spill."

"How long do we have to live here, Daddy?"

Her father offered her quick quirk of his lips before answering. "Well, your mother and I, we have to finish fixing this house, and then somebody has to buy it."

"Then we can go?"

"Yep, and then we can go, just like the last house. Now, you get back to sleep. All of You. Hazel, you can stay with Nellie tonight."

So after soft kisses on their foreheads and wishes for all of the children to have a goodnight sleep, Hugh and Steven left the room.

Hazel gazed to her right to find Nellie asleep beside her. "Luke?" She called gently, fearful to wake him if he was already asleep.

"Yeah?"

"What if she comes back?" Hazel said, her voice no louder than a whisper and her eyes filled with unleashed tears.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you, Hazel."

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

Hazel stepped into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. She turned the dial, old and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening her hair and trickling down her back.

The water poured down, it driped by her side, as her mind faded into dullness and everything was a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calmed her slightly; as her mind swirled. It was like she was standing under an everlasting waterfall.

At first she did not notice it. But as she lowered her head in suspicion she felt it. The subtle burning pain. A soft scrape against her inner wrist.

Hazel could feel the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in her abdomen. Tension grew in her face and limbs, as she slipped on the wet floor of the shower. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow as she tried to clasp her hands around her bleeding wrists.

The blood didn't gush in a constant flow, but in time with the beating of Hazels heart. At first it came thick and strong, flowing through her fingers as they clasped the ripped flesh. She felt the blood move over her hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than her own skin.

An invisible hand clasped over her mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierced her heart, unloading in an instant. She felt her ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate her lungs. Her head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing her mind into blackness.

The color of blood swirled in her mind, making her feel light while curiousity aroused in her mind. Her glistening eyes followed the line from her wrist to the shaft spillway, almost forcefully, like it had a mind of its own as some would say.

However, as quickly as the blood appeared, it had vanished. Hazel was left with nothing but the patter of water drops falling from the shower head and her labored breaths.

Nevertheless, in her short few minutes of panic, fear and terror, she failed to hear the subtle vibration of her mobile phone on her bedside table.

Failing to answer the last call she would ever receive from Eleanor Crain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 !
first official chapter! i'm
so excited for this book.
especially hazel, her
plot and backstory.