The House

"Is it just me or this house had gotten ten times over the hill since the last time we're here?" Kaiser muttered the moment Scott and him entered Samantha's empty house.

Though everything is still there, unmoved; the couch they used to sit on, the old, wooden center table, where they used to place their snacks while watching movies, the maroon old-fashioned carpet where they usually wrestle—everything—but things felt so empty now; for Scott, at the very least.

They had to sneak at the back as tons of media-outlets and even famous media personalities have been lurking outside from time to time, taking pictures of the house.

Even though none of Samantha's families and friends took care of the case legally, through social media pressure, the cops continued the investigation.

They have already searched Samantha's house, but have found nothing which could be used as evidences.

It was already aired in various channels that poltergeists and spiritualists have already been appointed to check the house the following day as per netizens' request, so Kaiser and Scott had to be there first.

"Perhaps," Scott mumbled, hanging his backpack loose on his shoulders. "Now let's get everything done, shall we?"

Kaiser grinned. "Aye, captain. I'll start here, you proceed upstairs. Make sure to check all the books in the library. There should be something there."

Scott replied a single nod and walked his way towards the stairs to where the rooms are—the library, to be specific. As soon as he set a foot on the first tread, he felt as though some weight has been added on his shoulders.

He thought that it was only because of the overwhelming feeling, so he shook it off, but the moment he reached the second to the last tread, he is already convinced something—no—someone is with him.

He had to stop and grasped both hands on the handrail to support himself as he felt like the added weights would already tumble him back down.

He could hear the stairs creaking; he quickly looked back to see no one aside from Kaiser who is busy checking the drawers near the hall, he and Samantha used to spend time at.

For a moment, he felt a twinge somewhere—deep inside, but he was so ready to drop it off right away. He winced and groaned as he lifted one leg towards his goal and finally, upstairs.

Scott looked straight; left and right, and slowly, his brows met. "What the hell is this?" He muttered when he saw nothing, but darkness—no rooms like what Tomoya said—completely blank.

Thinking that he might only been blinded by whoever it is, he heaved a deep sigh and took a step forward—and there, another set of weight has been added; he could barely move.

"W-What in the—," he panted, trying his best not to fall on his knees. This time, it is not just weight, but the force of gravity itself.

Scott gasped; there be nothing else he could do, but negate the demonic aura surrounding the place, or else they'll get nothing.

His hand trembled as he reached to the pocket of his backpack, pulling out an ebony pectoral exorcism cross.

He's never a believer nor have any religion; nonetheless, it was instilled in his mind that he needed help from most people believe to be God.

He felt his sweat trickling down his forehead, panting as he placed the cross in front of him.

"N-Now, show me the way," he groaned as though he's commanding God to do the work for him. Fortunately, what he asked had been served and he could feel the weight, which has been pulling him down, started to lighten up; he could finally breathe.

He thought everything has already been lifted and he could enter the library right away; however, what he sees next concluded the beginning of what's more to come.

Scott was so convinced that his disorder lost his sense of fear—not until he found himself almost kneeling in the middle of the cemetery with gravestones of inverted crosses.

Questions started flooding his mind. Has he, perhaps, entered the other realm? No? Maybe? That—he doesn't have any concrete idea about.

As of the moment, all he wanted is to know where he's at and what kind of place he's got himself into, so he could plan his moves right.

Everything's too murky, yet he could clearly see every grave even those in the farthest which could no longer be seen in plain sight.

Suddenly, the air became dry and hot; he felt as though he's suffocating and the crisp ground, which is penetrating the thick sole of his black combat boots, is making him wince.

He thought he had to leave right away; staying there would definitely put him in grave danger, but something inside him wanted to dawdle and explore the place.

Maybe then, there will be no need of being in touch with Kathleen and the rest. For heaven-knows-how and for heaven-knows-why, he suddenly felt something weird within him and it's mixing up with his plans in a form of confusion; perchance, guilt.

Scott winced when he tried pulling himself up. The force might no longer be there, but the place is evidently feeding off his energy and the wilted air is not helping at all. His breaths are cutting short to spare his insides the uncomfortable heat.

"T-This should be a way in," he panted and was about to take a few steps to nowhere in particular when something beside him glowed; he stopped and looked at the direction to see an old, rusty lantern lamp placed on top of a nearby grave—the only grave which do not have a cross on it.

His trembling legs unconsciously took him towards the beacon; before he could reach for it, his eyes drew down the grave stone—no name's been written. Perhaps, it's empty.

Slowly, he took the lamp, carefully turned to his heel and went straight.