Page 33 of Grave Possession

The door is still closed when I return, and I take a fraction of a second to mentally prepare myself for whatever may be down there. Heaving in a deep breath, I steel my nerves and haul it open. Immediately assaulted again by the noxious stench of decomposition. Retrieving a small flashlight from my pocket, I ready myself with my weapon and descend the stairs. The overpowering smell causes my eyes to water, and I’m forcing down the urge to retch and hurl all over the floor. But I can’t risk compromising the crime scene, even if my thoughts lead me toward the need to tear this room apart, looking for any sign of Mallory’s presence.

Shebetter not have been kept down here.

Hitting the bottom of the staircase, I scan my light over the area as flies buzz annoyingly around the room. My heart sinks as I pass my light over a clearly deceased woman. Her hair may be matted with a mix of dirt and blood, but it’s unmistakably blonde in a few spots. Relief floods through me that it’s not my Mallory. Guilt immediately flows in after though because this is still someone’s child, someone’s loved one. She lies bloated in the dirt, tortured and mutilated, throat slit, the end of her life a heinous one. The corpse is festering with maggots, andlividity suggests this is where she died. Quickly, I take a mental note of everything I see, ignoring the hope blooming in my chest that Mal is somewhere else and still alive.

I sincerely hope Mallory wasn’t around to witness this woman’s death. There’s no telling the damage it would do to her already fragile mental state.

There’s a chain locked onto an anchor point in the cement wall. At the other end is a metal shackle of a collar. It lays open, unlocked, against a blood-stained mattress. There’s a large dog kennel, and bucket off to the right. I can’t even begin to picture Mallory in this environment. My stomach roils as rage floods my system. My fingers coil inward, clenching my hands into tight fists. I want to fucking destroy this hellish place, blow it right off the map.

But I can’t.

I can’t lose my shit.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I push away the irate monster flowing beneath my skin, and open the gates to the sanctuary where I keep my memories of Mallory safe. They wash over me, chasing away the darkness and irrationality. Her smile unwinds the tension strung tight through my muscles, her big honey eyes unclench my fists, and the way her voice caresses my name recentres me in a way I never knew possible.

Focus.

I reopen my eyes, slowly spinning in place to observe the area one last time. My booted toe slips under the mattress, and as I turn, it nudges something out from beneath it. Crouching next to the cadaver, I lift the cornerof the mattress with one hand, and retrieve a coiled notebook with the other. It’s half saturated in rancid bodily fluids but the pages near the beginning are still legible. Gently flipping through it, I recognize Mallory’s unmistakable handwriting. It’s a mix of both printing and cursive. She writes so fluidly, the words just flowing out of her unhindered, that most of the time she forgets to dot her i’s and cross her t’s.

Her writing begins with inconsistent thoughts, jumbled and hard to follow. Recounting her hate for her parents, moving on to sadness for her situation, then resentment for not being able to live a normal life. Turning the page, the words I read are heavy with emotion. She talks about herself in a way I could never understand. The pen tore at the pages, leaving them shredded through and missing pieces. Her self-loathing is so thick I can taste it, feel it, sitting heavy on my shoulders. The pages are tear-stained, and the thought of her down here pouring out her emotions is heart-crushing.

Taking a cleansing breath, I move through the ripped pages, searching for where the writing starts again. Her next entry is neat, more concise. Mal writes of her kidnapper. How he’s a cop from my station, and what he looks like. His motive, and how there are more bodies we don’t know about. She’s solidifying my theory the more I read, even finding out when he first crossed her path. She recounts her plan, and dread pools in my gut. If he found out she was manipulating him, he will kill her.

Turning the page knocks the air from my lungs. “To my Ghost” is written across the top, and what follows could only be considered a goodbye letter from her tomyself. It ends with her saying she’ll search endlessly for me in the next life.

Over my dead body, Mallory. We aren’t done living this life yet.

My walkie crackles to life, filling the deathly silent area with my uncle’s broken words. It’s garbled gibberish that I in no way can understand, but I know if he’s calling, there’s a good reason. Pressing the button on the mouthpiece attached to my shoulder, I respond. “Hello? Uncle? I’m here, can you hear me?” Lifting my thumb off the button, I wait. Nothing comes through the receiver, I’m out of range this far out and underground.

Turning, I make my way back to the stairs. Coughing and gasping sharply cuts through the silence, echoing around the dark space and halting me in my tracks. Every hair on my body stands up as goosebumps erupt across my skin. “Who’s there?” I bellow, deep authority infused into my voice despite the quaking in my boots. If this cadaver comes to life, I’m going to shit my pants, and have a heart attack simultaneously.

“Lennox,” a hoarse voice cracks through the atmosphere, coming from in front of me, but there’s no one there.

“Mallory? Is that you?” My voice cracks, treading the line of a sob, as I thoroughly pan my flashlight around the area. “Where are you, baby?”

Drag marks in the dirt carve a path from the centre of the room toward the stairs. They steer around the far side of the staircase, disappearing into the darkness.

“Help.” The voice is a raspy, strained whisper, and I move towards it. Illuminating the pitch-black spot beneath the stairs, I see her.

“Victoria?!” I startle.What the fuck?She’s been roughed up, her clothes dirty and torn. Dried blood is crusted across her face from a gash on her head hidden beneath her hair. She’s got a black eye, fat lip, and her throat is smattered in bruises, but she’s alive. And she’s here…which means I’m one hundred percent in the right place.

She starts to sob as soon as she sees me, reaching out her arms for assistance. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand. “Where’s Mallory?” I say, softer this time.

“G-Gone,” she coughs, “He—he took her.” Victoria hangs her head in shame, diverting her eyes from mine.

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” she wheezes.

Kneeling down, I tuck Mallory’s book into my back pocket, and scoop up her best friend. This tiny woman with a personality the size of the sun is shaking in my hold, barely holding onto consciousness now that she’s safe. “Hey.” I lightly jostle her as I return to my feet. Her eyes flutter open. “Where did he take her Vic? I need you to tell me what you know.” Moving us out of the darkness, I high-tail it up the stairs, and out into the fresh air.

“I don’t know. She was here, I-I hugged her.” She sniffles and coughs, stuffing down another sob. “Then he grabbed me and choked me. I guess I passed out, and when I woke up they were gone. I heard you calling out, it’s what made me come to. I hid as fast as I could in case it was him coming back.” I nod, waiting for her to continue even though I know it’s like sandpaper on her vocal cords. I need to know where Mallory is.

The radio crackles to life, the static sound filling the quiet woods. “Can you stand?” I ask Victoria, and she nods. Slowly, I release her legs, still holding her torso against mine, and gently placing her feet on the ground. She clings to me, legs shaking, but maintaining a standing position.

“Hello? Captain?” I speak into the walkie-talkie. Waiting with sweaty anticipation for a reply. The silence stretches an uncomfortable amount of time before I realize he might not be able to make out my call through the interference. I click the talk button three times in quick succession, wondering if he will even receive the clicking sound from this far away. I turn my attention back to a very pale Victoria, wavering on her feet. “Woah, hey. Vic?” Her hold on me loosens as she drops like a deadweight to the grassy ground.Shit.Falling to my knees beside her, I roll her to her back, and ensure she’s still breathing.I don’t have time for this Victoria! I have to go find Mal.

Tapping her cheek, “Vic! Hey Victoria! Please fucking wake up. I have to go, and I can’t leave your annoying, meddling ass here.”

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