CHAPTER FOUR
SOMETHINGS TERRIBLY
WRONG HERE

We all headed inside and began setting up the equipment, everything we'd need to prove the existence of an evil presence in the house. Once everything was in place, we'd head down to the tree—the tree where she had taken her own life. The spirit that haunted this house.

"Hey, Brad, hand me the thermostat, will you?" Dad called out, focused on arranging the equipment.

Brad looked at the device in his hand, confused. "What does this do?"

Dad glanced up, explaining, "When there's a sudden drop in temperature, the thermostat triggers the camera to take a picture."

At that moment, Roger walked over, eyeing us curiously. "You've actually caught things on film?" he asked, his tone filled with skepticism.

"You've actually caught things on film" Roger asked as I looked up at him before standing up "yeah that's the point, we need to prove they exist, this equipment is pretty cool you'll see" I said with a  smile trying to reassure him we knew what we were doing "why uh, why out here" Roger said looking around him "this is where the witch committed suicide, she hung herself from that brand right above where your standing" Dad said which made Roger look above him before taking a few steps back.

As darkness began to settle over the house, we all gathered in the living room, waiting for something to happen.

"What's in the bottle?" Roger asked, eyeing Dad, who was busy opening a pouch filled with crucifixes and holy water.

"Holy water," Dad replied, glancing up at him. "The presence of religious icons can provoke a reaction from anything unholy."

Dad began placing the items around the room, his movements deliberate.

"Sort of pisses them off," I muttered, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Dad shot me a glare. "Watch your language."

"What?" I chuckled, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Anyway, I'll set these around the house and see if I can stir things up a bit."

With that, Dad walked toward the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps fading as he left the room.

"Like holding a cross to a vampire?" Roger said, his tone skeptical, still unsure about the whole thing.

"Or a full moon to a werewolf," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Exactly," Dad replied, just as we began to hear a faint ringing sound.

"Wasn't me," Brad said, and we all exchanged uneasy glances before moving toward the hallway. The doors began to creak open, and then, in a flash, a light blinked from the camera, catching our attention.

"Brad, get the camera!" Dad ordered, his voice sharp as we stood frozen, staring in disbelief.

After a long pause, my parents decided to head down into the basement.

"Why can't I come?" I asked, following my mom as Dad stood nearby, adjusting his gear, preparing to descend.

"Because it's dangerous," Mom replied, worry flickering in her eyes as she stroked her finger gently across my cheek.

"I'm already here. I'm probably safer going down there with you than staying up here," I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

"You're staying up here, and that's final," Dad snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I stepped back, my frustration boiling over, but I knew there was nothing more to say. I walked to the side and watched as Dad turned to the group.

"Alright, it's 9:18, and we're heading down into the cellar. The doors just opened on their own. I have Lorraine and Officer Brad Hamilton with me," Dad said, before heading toward the stairs.

I stood at the doorway, listening intently.

"There's definitely something here," I heard my mom say, her voice tense.

"Close the door—move something!" Dad shouted, trying to provoke a reaction from the spirit. Then, I heard them coming back up the stairs, but they paused again, the eerie sound of a piano creaking filling the air.

"Like I said, it doesn't always work when you want it to. Yeah, maybe the camera picked something up," Dad said, his voice trailing off. But before he could finish, the basement door slammed shut with a deafening bang.

The next day, I was sitting with my headphones on, absorbed in a book, when a scream pierced the air from upstairs. My heart skipped a beat, and I yanked off my headphones, tossing the book aside before rushing out of the room. My mom must have heard it too because we met at the stairs, exchanging a brief, panicked look before running up together.

"Carolyn, open the door!" Mom called, her hand on the doorknob of Carolyn's room.

"Carolyn, open up!" she repeated, her voice frantic as we both heard Carolyn coughing on the other side. Without missing a beat, Mom took off running.

"Mom, where are you going?" I asked, chasing after her. We hurried down the hall and into the bathroom, where Carolyn was standing.

"Are you okay? Are you sick?" Mom asked, her voice full of concern.

"I just woke up feeling a little bit nauseous," Carolyn replied, brushing past us as she walked out of the bathroom.

"I thought I saw—" Mom started to say, but Carolyn interrupted her, her tone casual.

"I heard Roger and the girls," she said, walking away without another word.

Throughout the day, I immersed myself in every paranormal book I had brought with me, trying to learn as much as possible so I could be of help when the time came. By nightfall, we all heard a scream—Brad's voice, high and frantic.

"Ed! Ed!" Brad screamed, which sent everyone scrambling to their feet, rushing toward the source of the noise.

"There was a woman... dressed as a maid!" Brad gasped, his words coming out in ragged breaths. We all froze, but then we heard the unmistakable sound of a camera flash, followed by the sight of a girl walking past.

"Ed, we're getting something!" Mom shouted as she dashed over to the camera.

"It's just Cindy. She's sleepwalking," Dad said, his voice calm as we all watched Cindy wandering up the stairs.

"We need this," Dad murmured under his breath, though I could barely hear him over the pounding of my heart. It was getting real.

"Why do we need pictures of Cindy?" Roger asked, his voice full of confusion.

"She didn't trigger it," Dad replied, and I saw a flicker of fear cross Roger's face.

"What do you mean she didn't trigger it?" Roger asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"Cindy didn't trigger it. It's whatever is with her. She isn't alone," I said, my voice shaking as we all stood there, staring at Cindy.

"Who?" Roger asked, his confusion deepening, just before the door slammed shut behind her.

"Cindy!" Dad shouted, running toward the stairs, with everyone following close behind.

Roger and Dad tried to force the door open.

"There's someone else in there with her!" Drew yelled, and my mom and I rushed up the stairs to join him.

"I can hear another voice—here, listen," Drew said, handing us a pair of headphones.

"Follow me. This is where I hide," a little boy's voice whispered softly through the headphones.

The chill in my spine only deepened as I exchanged a terrified look with my mom before we rushed upstairs, following Dad's voice as he searched the room. Finally, he found an old wardrobe, and, using an ultraviolet light, revealed handprints on the door. He pulled it open, revealing Cindy curled inside.

"That's where Rory hides when he's afraid," one of the other daughters said softly, her eyes wide with fear.

End Of Chapter 4