CHAPTER TWO
RHODE ISLAND

As the car drove up the long driveway, I looked around. It was the house I had seen in my dream. When Dad stopped the car, I grabbed my bag from the seat and jumped out, scanning the area once more. A dark presence loomed over the place, even from the outside.

As we walked up the drive and approached the front door, I couldn't deny the fear gnawing at me. "Hello," a woman greeted my parents as we entered. "Thanks for coming," she said, shaking their hands.

"I hope you don't mind we brought our son, Eddy, along," my mom said, glancing at the parents.

"Hi, I'm Roger," the man introduced himself, shaking my parents' hands as well.

"Lorraine," my mom replied, smiling warmly.

But as I held my mom's hand, something caught my eye—a black figure loomed behind the couple. I didn't speak up; I didn't want to scare anyone. But when I looked at my mom, she seemed worried too. I squeezed her hand, and she gave me a fleeting glance, a silent understanding passing between us.

"Hey, nice to meet you, Roger. Ed Warren," my dad said, his voice steady.

Roger's face was tight with unease. "Thanks for coming," he muttered, before adding, "Please, come in."

We followed them into the living room.

"Oh my god, look at you all. Who are these beautiful young ladies?" Mom asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

I looked at the three girls. They shared the same haunted look as their parents, but it was worse on them—terrified, tired. "This is Andrea, the oldest, Nancy, Cindy, Christine, and April," the mother introduced them.

I caught sight of the same dark figure again, this time lurking behind the children.

"These are Mr. and Mrs. Warren and their son, Eddy," the mother continued, her tone forced.

"Nice to meet you," I said, though my smile felt more like a grimace. Something was off, and I could feel it in my bones.

"We... um, we're all sleeping down here now," the mother explained, gesturing to the living room. "The girls feel safer here, and it's warmer. I keep turning up the heat, but the house is always freezing."

"It's not a problem with the furnace, though. Not that I can find," Roger added, his tone distant.

I moved closer to my mom, who stood alone by the window. "Did you see that too?" I whispered, meeting her eyes. She looked as worried as I felt.

"Yes," she whispered back, squeezing my arm. "But we need to keep it to ourselves until we know what's really going on."

She turned to find my dad, leaving me with the other kids. I stayed near the wall as they spoke.

"Well, that's to keep those doors from banging at night. Otherwise, it's like—" Roger trailed off, tapping the wall.

"How many times does it happen, exactly?" I asked, my voice calm but inquisitive.

Everyone turned to look at me. I had been reading every book my parents owned, hoping it would help me understand.

"Does it happen in threes?" my dad asked Roger, his voice steady.

"Yeah," Roger replied.

"It stops at dawn?" Dad asked again.

"Uh-huh," Roger answered.

"Sometimes, it's meant as an insult to the trinity," my dad said thoughtfully.

"The trinity?" Roger echoed, confused.

"The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," I said, looking at my dad, who smiled at me.

The parents began to give us a tour of the house. As we walked, I wandered off in another direction.

"Be careful," my dad called after me, his voice filled with concern.

I kept my crucifix in my hand, clutching it tightly as I explored. The cold here was unbearable—like someone had walked over my grave. The sensation chilled me as I entered the children's bedroom, and I paused, looking around. That's when I heard my mom shout. I ran toward the sound of her voice.

"Stay close to me, please," Mom pleaded, grabbing my hand. Her face was pale with fear. We were right: there was a dark presence here.

Later, I joined my dad in the kitchen. As I sat at the table, I noticed the bruises on the mother's arms.

"So, how did you get those bruises?" I asked, staring at her arms.

"Oh, it's some iron deficiency thing I have," she replied, her voice flat.

"Are you sure? It just seems strange that you've only started getting them since you moved here," I said, my gaze unwavering.

She pulled her sleeve down, hiding the bruises. "I'm fine," she said quickly.

"With everything going on, why haven't you just moved out?" my dad asked.

"I don't know where we'd go," Roger replied, running a hand through his hair. "We've got all our money tied up in this place, and the repairs... well, they're endless."

"I don't know anyone who could take in a family of seven indefinitely," Roger added.

"That's why we tracked you down," the mother said, looking at us earnestly.

"We're glad you found us," Dad said, setting up the tape recorder. "All right, let's get started."

He clicked the recorder on. "My name is Ed Warren. I'm here with my son, Ed Warren Jr. It's November 1st, 1971. I'm sitting with Carolyn Perron, who, along with her family, has been experiencing supernatural occurrences." He set the mic in front of Carolyn.

"Okay, go ahead," Dad said.

Carolyn hesitated, clearly unsettled. I gave her a reassuring smile.

"Where do I start?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"From the beginning," I said softly, hoping to ease her fear.

"I guess it all started with the clocks," Carolyn said, her voice shaky.

I later found my parents standing beneath a tree outside. Something was wrong. I rushed over to them.

"Mom, are you all right?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"I'm fine, honey," she said, smiling, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I touched her arm, and again, I saw what she saw—the same dark presence. I was pulled out of the vision by Dad's voice.

"Eddy, are you all right?" he asked, his face tight with worry.

"I saw what Mom saw. This place... it's dangerous. I can feel it," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"I knew it was a bad idea bringing you here," Dad said, his face pale.

"I'm fine, Dad. I've seen worse," I assured him, though my words felt empty.

"I know," Dad murmured, before taking my hand and Mom's. We walked back to the house, heading straight for the kitchen.

"We bought it at auction from the bank, you know. We didn't know who lived here before," Roger explained.

My parents exchanged a glance.

"Well, we feel that what your house needs is a cleansing," Dad said, his voice steady. "An exorcism."

Roger looked horrified. "Exorcism? I thought that's something you do to people."

End Of Chapter 2