Behind the Wall

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Winter was long and brutal, as anyone who lived on the upper east coast would know with the freezing winds coming in from the coast and the snow that would lay in sheets for days upon days. Unfortunately, anyone sane enough, would understand that travel on the highway was unsafe, unthinkable, ridiculous, suicide, amongst other things. For Poppy going up to colder winds than she was already used to was not by choice, not by sheer desire to see Maine, in fact it was completely against her will. It had been almost a week, if not less, since Alexandre, beloved brother and only family member left in her life died by suicide. Things were still sketchy, such as the reasoning considering for the happiest man on earth and the American dream having been lived out in his life, to end it all suddenly was something so out of the ordinary that anyone would be completely skeptical.

It was a bad dream to her, still as she slowly turned down a small stretch of road that was lined with nothing but dead tree's and heavy fog that hung around like decoration. She was going to Portland simply because she had to sale the large plantation house her brother had purchased. It hadn't even been owned for one month, the ink was still dry on all the paper, and there she was already trying to sale it. But who would want a home where someone committed suicide? Who? She sniffed back the tears that she had been crying all the way there, wiping her eyes on her sleeves considering her entire car was filled with tissues within two hours. She was dreading this more than anything, she would want to stick nails in her eyes aside from doing this, but it was what had to be done.

Slowly, the large three story house was drawing into view as she went over an old ragged wooden bridge. It was beautiful, a home that someone during the civil war would have owned with many workers. It was beautiful despite its delapidated appearance, had Alexandre lived long enough, she was sure it would have been as beautiful as it once was.

Poppy slowed down her car as she went around the small circular driveway in front of the house. This was, to her, going to be the hardest thing yet. To get all his belongings and sale the last thing he ever touched and lived in. She turned the car off after sitting idle for minutes and stepped out, feeling the cold wind hit her face unconditionally. She shivered as she looked around hearing nothing but ice popping in the trees and ground, hearing wind blow against her, other than that it was dead silence.

Slowly, she turned in a circle, glancing around the large property and forest area around the house, as well as the lake that stretched into town. It was gorgeous. Slamming the car door, Poppy moved around the driveway, trying to get a better sense of what she had to deal with. It would be hard to sale, but she was ready and willing. Poppy looked up at the chimeny's and sighed. This place was vast and incredibly expensive. A snapping branch turned her attention to a small boat house where she smiled at the little boat she recalled Alexandre talking about two weeks ago. He had been proud of it, but he had never used it due to the ice on the water. Poppy frowned when she felt the wind blow against her face, she turned her back to it to face the house and for a moment, just a split second, she swore she saw a face in one of the windows. The curtains moved, but she figured it was her imagination getting the best of her.

This was going to be a very long trip.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley had walked slower into work that morning. Something about teaching all those young minds, and dealing with minds that weren't all there seemed like a trivial thing after what had happened last week. Nothing so bad had happened in Portland since he had been in college, years ago. Suicides just...didn't happen. Not here. Especially not to the friend of a psychiatrist.

Wesley hung his jacket and scarf up on the pegs beside his office door after unlocking and going in, peering around at all of his things. Notes stuck on everything, his desk covered with files, written notes, an empty coffee cup here and there. He shut his door quietly, not to bother the silence of the Arts and Sciences building that always fell this early in the morning. He tended to be there before everyone else, so that he would have some quiet time to think about his patients, how he could help, take notes, seek information on the computer.

But this morning...he just sat down in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, tapping a pencil against his knee and staring at the blank screen. He had no desire to do anything today, not after everything that had happened. He hadn't known Alexandre well, but he had spoken with him on several occasions, the other man had even come to a few sessions. Something with his house...hallucinations? Wes didn't want to think about it this morning.

Instead, he got up out of his desk and went over to where his coffee maker was. He began to methodically make some, a routine he kept every morning. He perched his glasses on top of his head so he could see better. He pushed the thoughts of the dead man out of his mind, and tried to focus on his work.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Nothing was working, wandering about the house was not very helpful, all Poppy could do was seemlessly wander back into the lobby staring up at the grand two staircases that curved to the second floor. She was wanting to go into the ballroom, she was dying to, no pun intended, but she had managed to only see the beautiful living room, kitchen, and diningroom. The only room she hadn't seen on the first floor was the dining hall and this room that was blocked off. She had yet to be able to enter it and for a moment she wondered if she was going to have to find a crowbar or something to get into it, but didn't want t mess with it at the moment.

The house, aside from the stirs, creaks, and the sudden gusts of cool air, it was warm, comforting, and smelled like her brother. She liked it there, but there was just something that clung in the air that she couldn't really place. It just felt cold and felt like there was something else there, but she knew she was being silly. She sighed out as she stood in the hallway, staring at the door that lead into the ballroom. She wasn't sure why but she felt that there was something else there.

Poppy walked to the doors and slowly opened them, hearing them creak as they swung open. She sighed out, almost like she had been holding her breath, but the moment she saw the large red walls and bright wooden floors, she slumped, as if she were hoping to find something, but all she saw was a beautifully finished ballroom. She glanced around and slid back out into the hallway, closing the doors to shut off the bad memory that lingered in that room. Alexandre had died in there.

She shivered as she stood there holding the handle with her hands, not wanting to really believe he was gone. A door slamming caused her to jump. She frowned and backed away from the doors and back into the lobby to glance around at the open ceiling to the second floor. She stood there, holding her breath, waiting, listening, suddenly she heard footsteps and then followed by a door slamming closed.

"Hel-hello?" Poppy yelled. "Is someone here?" When she heard nothing she frowned. Was there supposed to be someone else there? Realator perhaps?

[Wesley Paige]

By the time his friend came in and said good morning and went into the office next to him, Wesley had a bad feeling. One of those feelings that told you something wasn't right. But he couldn't think of anything that would be wrong. He figured it was just the suicide hanging over their little town. Although a prestigious college, they were sort of out in the middle of nowhere, a gem, most called their college and town. So something this disturbing was a surprise in their little corner of the world. Their town was supposed to be somewhere people came to get away, relax, live out their dreams. Not kill themselves.

"Someone's come to unpack the Wickett house," his friend said as he wandered into Wesley's office and leaned on the door frame, stirring cream and sugar into his coffee. His silver wire glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose and he looked over them at Wes as if he were expecting something. Hawthorne. His friend meant the Hawthorne House.

People had tried to stop calling it the Wickett place when the young Alexandre had bought it. But now that he had committed suicide in that place...the old rumors, the old horrors were coming back with a vengence. The paper's headlines had read in big, bold print "Have the Wicketts Done it Again?" and "The Wickett House Claims Another Victim". The police department had quickly quashed the the headlines. Even if the family didn't live here, when they came to get the body...no one wanted to have to see those things on the papers after having gone through something like that.

"Probably the parents..." Wesley answered noncommittally as he poured himself another cup of coffee and stirred in two lumps of sugar. He stirred it as he turned around and watched his friend closely as he sipped on his hot coffee.

"You don't figure they'll try to sell the place?" his friend asked, lifting his eyebrows. Wesley sighed, shrugging.

"Why not? There's nothing wrong with that house. The kid obviously had problems..." Wesley said, then paused. He smiled, sitting down at his desk. "You read too much."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

It was damn cold in that house, Poppy had concluded after repeated trips to the thermostat, although it was now on 80 degrees, she felt like it wasn't even getting a bit warm, despite feeling it hit her face every door she passed.

Since that little scare of footsteps and doors slamming, she had gathered up the courage to open all the rooms upstairs to make sure she wasn't missing someone, who apparently didn't hear her calls or her questions. But, so far, having been a bit surprised to find the entrire second floor was nothing but bedrooms was about as much excitement as she experienced. Nothing that a little science or common sense couldn't explain. She figured this house was still old and creaking and causing the house to shift, which would explain the doors slamming, after all she had found one empty bedroom where the door didn't latch so well. Plus, the house being so drafty she figured it would rattle and make noises, much like footsteps.

So far on her little scavanger hunt she had found nothing out the ordinary, save one bedroom that had been quite lived in and still smelled of her brother, as did every other place in this house. She had managed to not go into it, not quite ready to take on the task of gathering up his things. She didn't want to put a final stamp on things, she was still trying to adjust to the fact that he was gone, to quickly sweep it under the carpet by packing up his things and leaving in one day didn't seem very agreeable to her conscience. She was going to take her time. Sell this house first, pack later, get out after. Sounded like a good plan.

Poppy sighed as she sat down in the beautiful kitchen. It was bright without needing a single light on, the floors tiled in black and white squares, fresh and barely used stainless steel appliances. It was something her brother had always talked about. She played with her cup of tea, stirring it mindlessly although the sugar lumps had long been dissolved. She stared out the window down the small hill and boat house and lake. It was picturesque, everything was, but it didn't have that warm homey feel to it. To Poppy it still felt cold and uninviting despite the warm colors, beautiful hardwood floors, an new furniture to make it look like a plantation house into a farm house. It still had this looming feel of it being stuck in an era, unable to move on.

Plus there was the sense of there being something else there, without it actually being there. She didn't know if this was a good thing or not, but she figured it was due to the vastness of the home. Any house with three floors, over 70 to 80 bedrooms, large rooms was bound to feel empty with one little person inside, but she couldn't help but wonder why she felt like she wasn't the only one there. Perhaps, Poppy thought, it was because at one point this place used to be owned by a great man with a lot of money and had a lot of servants running about. It must've been their prescense she felt.

Poppy laughed, she didn't believe in spirits or ghosts, she just believed in what was real and explainable. This house was old, airy, large, and complicated and had a nasty history. Poppy was just feeling out of her element due to the fact that her brother had perished there. Poppy frowned as she looked into her cup of tea, or lack of tea. She frowned as she dropped her spoon, hearing it clank against the china seeing nothing inside except her two lumps of sugar.

"What the..." Poppy looked over the pot of tea and grabbed the cold handle and pulled the top off seeing that there was no tea inside. She jumped off the stool she sat on and walked around the island she sat at and over the trash bin under the sink where she had tossed the tea packets, but she saw nothing but a white, empty, trash bag. She recalled making tea, she stood there for fifteen minutes contemplating on what to do with the house, the funeral, everything! She had gotten the tea out of the cupboard to the right...Poppy slammed the bottom drawer and walked over to the small thin white door and pulled it open grabbing the string from the bare light. She frowned as she saw the tea sitting on the shelf, not having been touched or opened, the plastic wrapping still over the Earl Grey.

"Oh bull." She grabbed it and walked out into the kitchen, closing the doors to the pantry and tossed it onto the island as she grabbed the tea pot. Expecting it to be empty she didn't put much strength into pulling it, but the moment she pulled it off the counter she screamed, feeling hot tea spalsh her hand. Unexpectdly she dropped it, watching the beautiful china teapoty crash against the floor, tea spilling all over her black boots and khaki pants, as well as the floor.

Poppy, shocked, looked at her teacup to find nothing but tea and a spoon.

[Wesley Paige]

"I mean it guys, exam next week, and its going to be hard!" Wes called out the door as his students left, some of his favorites grinning back and nodding. Sometimes they didn't take him seriously, due to the way he ran his classroom--very hands on, few homework or book assignments. But usually they knew he wasn't kidding about his exams.

He took a deep breath and began stuffing his things into his satchel. He pulled back his sleeve to look at his watch. Still an hour before his twelve o'clock appointment showed up. He sighed, he had time to grab something to eat.

Wesley glanced over as one of his students knocked on the door. He smiled and motioned them in.

"What do you need, Josh?" he asked. The man stood at his desk and began talking about a friend of his that he thought might need some help. Stressed about school, work and family, the boy seemed to be a danger to himself and others too. Wesley listened intently for a long time, before giving his student his card, with his house number on the back, and told him that if he thought his friend might hurt himself, to call. And to give the number to his friend. He smiled and watched the boy out.

He went back to his desk and picked up his notebook. Wesley paused, however, seeing a yellowed bit of paper hanging out of the side of his notebook. He furrowed his brow. What was that? He couldn't remember sticking something that looked like that in there.

Opening up the book, he found where the sheet was stuck. It was an old newspaper clipping...from the early 1900's. Wes's brow furrowed even more. The edges had been torn from a paper instead of cut. It was a headline, his eyes scanned it.

"Mysterious Deaths Plague the Wicketts."

Wesley's stomach flopped a little. He glanced around, wondering if someone had stuck this in on their way out of the classroom. He turned his eyes back down to the page. Scanning over the clipping, he gathered that a young Heiress, Chastity Wickett, had been found mysteriously dead on the roof of the house outside her upstairs bedroom window. Cause of death unknown. Only three days later, her brother, Scott, only twelve at the time, was found dead in his bed, strangled, a long armed clown toy was wrapped around his neck. The presumed murder weapon.

Welsey sneered a little. Someone was trying to scare him, sticking these things in his notebook. Probably one of his students stole this from the library and decided he was a good target.

Sighing, he left the clipping on his desk and left his office. Although sure it was a trick, he couldn't help but be a little unnerved.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Since the "tea incident" Poppy had tried to keep her mind occupied with things that were actually worth worrying about, like the fact that she was <i>hallucinating</i> that there hadn't been any tea due to <i>tire</i>. She had eaten a light meal from the kitchen, what food had been left from her brother's last shopping trip. She knew she had to go get some more food later on since it was literally bare. Peanut butter sandwiches were good, but not for a routine dinner.

Poppy had been laying in bed for what felt like hours. Anytime the cold winter wind blew the house creaked, she heard whispers, doors rattled, amongst many other odd noises that only made her shrink in her comforter and hold her breath. She swore she heard voices, but she knew it was impossible. The nearest family to that old house was almost a mile, or two, away and there wasn't a television on since there was only one in the living room downstairs, where she slept. She didn't feel comfortable in any other rooms, they were too dark and too cold. The living room was warm, the television was in there, a door to shut off the lobby. It was comforting to her, but still in the back of her mind she felt something.

Poppy was also being haunted by her brother. She slept for about fifteen minutes, only to be startled awake by a slam of a door upstairs, that loose door no doubt, but it was frightening because she had been dreaming of her brother. She had heard music, beautiful party music that you'd hear in the 30's, she had walked out into the lobby and to the ballroom, that was bright and alive, yet there were no people, until she looked up at the gold vast shimmering chandelier, her brother swinging from it like a pendulum. His eyes opened and then she awoke to the slam. Her heart was still racing, but her bladder was calling for relief.

She didn't want to get up off the couch that was soft and warm, but she had to. She sighed as she tossed them off of her and stood, grabbing the remote on the small table in front of the couch. She turned on the tv to give her some noise while she used the guest bathroom in the lobby. She walked to the door and pushed it open, her eyes scanning the dark blue lobby. The light switch was by the door and she wasn't heading that way, she was taking a left towards the stairs. She sighed, shivering in her flannel pajamas and tank top. She walked quickly towards the bathroom, hearing the creaks of the house and the old grandfather clock ticking loudly in the hallway. She hated clocks, especially in a large house by herself. She shivered, why did she feel like she wasn't alone? Poppy knew it was her mind getting the best of her, she shivered again as she walked by the clock, not daring to look at her reflection for fear she'd scare herself without makeup on and lack of sleep. She grinned as she walked by it, reaching for the door handle, but she paused. For a long moment she listened, holding her breath. Suddenly, there was no sound.

Poppy's heart was going a mile a minute as she slowly turned, almost afraid she'd see something, but luckily she didn't. She slowly walked back to the clock. Why did it stop? Poppy, hearing her heartbeating loudly, felt the hair on her neck stand on end as she reached the side of the clock. She slowly looked at the golden pendulum, moving to face the front. Immediately, her eyes watered, her heart stopped. She stood in awe, fear holding her to the exact spot of where she stood. She saw her reflection in the glass, although it wasn't <i>her</i>.

Her hair was wet, she was wearing a white gown, and she saw the back of her head. Poppy stepped back slightly, watching as the figure in the glass slowly began to turn as if to face her. With a gasp and a scream she bolted to the living room, turning quickly to grab the handles on the door and slam it shut. She backed up and screamed when she fell over backwards onto the couch. For the longest moment she laid on the floor lifeless, fearing what she might see. After a moment she slowly raised up and peeked over the couch to see nothing.

A long moment of silence passed then the sound of the phone blaring startled her. She reached for it and picked it up, saying hello in a panicked tone. She regained her breath and sighed, aggravated the person didn't hear her.

"Hello?" She said again. Suddenly she heard giggling. Startled, she screamed in shock and threw the phone at the wall, watching it shatter. What the hell was going on!?

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley worked late into the night on a case he had just recieved. He was being requested to interview someone in a police case. He didn't want to do it, but he knew that he couldn't just say no.

By the time he did actually lay down to sleep, it was close to two o'clock and he was exhausted. He got up from his desk, washed his face, changed into something else and laid down. He felt strange this evening for some reason. Like there was something wrong...but not where he was. Somewhere else, with someone else he knew, or that he ought to know.

He shook the ideas out, as he knew it was probably just tire making him a little hallucinatory.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sighed out as she yawned, wandering throughout the small convenient store picking up a few items she needed, while at the same time trying to wake up, despite it being one in the afternoon. She was so sleepy, she hadn't been able to sleep at all after the nightmare she suffered, although she felt like she had actually seen what she saw in the clock. Poppy shivered as she walked down the cereal aisle, picking up a small box of fruit loops to snack on. She sighed as she wandered around, dazed almost. She was halfway awake, while the rest of her mind was stuck on what she remembered. Luckily her ability to hear was rather sensitive.

<i>"Oh yeah! Doctor Paige is one of the best psychologists we've ever seen at the college."</i> Poppy frowned, moving her small cart around the corner of the aisle to see two women standing by a small kiosk containing fresh bread. Wanting to be a little sneaky, Poppy paused next to them, pretending to be interested in poppy seed bread, continuing to easvesdrop. But before they got into details they stopped to stare at her. Noticing that she could feel eyes on her, Poppy looked up, seeing the two model thin blondes staring, half with a smile.

"What?" She asked with a nervous laugh. They two women smiled and laughed.

<i>"Sorry! We were wondering if you were, by any chance, Alexandre Hawthorne's sister?"</i> The name escaping other people's lips caused her heart to skip. <i>"We are so sorry to hear about your brother, everyone really liked him."</i> Poppy smiled, shying away from the subject.

"Thank you." She looked around at the selection and raised an eyebrow, pretending to have found what she wanted. "I...couldn't help but overhear you talkng about a psychologist?" The women bother exchanged glances before putting their cold eyes on her again, soft sympathetic smiles crossing their perfected faces.

<i>"Yes, Wesley Paige. Best man to talk to about...things."</i> Poppy wasn't born yesterday, she knew when people were promoting sympathy and even more so when she was being judged when mentioning a psychologist.

"Well, I better get going. Snowstorm is coming." She picked up whatever her hands had found and she put it in her cart. Biting her lip, and swallowing her pride of not wanting to laugh it off, she wandered to a checlk out lane and kept the man's name in mind. Hopefully, he might help her with her odd...occurences?

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sat in his office, forehead cradled in his hand as he jotted down things in a file. He had just finished a session with a woman, and he was trying to identify her issues. He was thinking that she suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. It seemed to run in her family as her mother and grandmother both had it. He had written down key things she had said, and he was going through, highlighting them, and writing down notes.

He leaned back and sighed pushing his glasses up on his head, rubbing his eyes. It was only eleven thirty in the morning, but it was Friday, which was always a good thing. He would be able to go home and relax a little...

Except that most of his patients not only had his office number, but also his cell and home phone, which sometimes made peaceful weekends hard to come by. A lot of his patients called him more than they called their own family members. Luckily however, he didn't have any patients who called him late at night. Most calls came during the day, asking about medication with certain things, such as food or certain activites.

Wes was just glad the weekend was here.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy thumbed through the listings of all those psychologists that happened to be in the small town, which was only two people, one of which was female, the other. <i>Bingo</i>.

Poppy picked up the phone and bit her lower lip, dialing the number slowly as she glanced at the book then the phone. She had put up her groceries and had given it a lot of thought as to what she would tell the man. He'd probably tell her to take up some sleeping pills and that was it, but she felt it was more than just a lack of sleeping. She shivered at the thought as she put the phone to her ear. After a moment she hung up. She might as well go ahead and talk to him in peson, phone was never good for her to explain things with emotion.

Jotting the address down on a pad of paper she grabbed her purse and kets and headed out the door, not glancing back at the house in fear of what she might see, because she somehow felt someone was watching her. Knowing it was nothing she got into her car, rather swiftly, and locked the doors and headed down the driveway into town. Hopefully it wasn't too late to speak with him, she hoped.

It didn't take long to find the college, it was very large and very elaborate for a small town, much like Harvard, if she could say that was a small town. She sighed out, trying to piece her mind together to make sense when talking to the man, even she was having a hard time believing what she saw, so how in God's name would she make him believe it? Poppy figured it didn't really matter, she would just leave out the psychotic sightings for another time.

Walking against the wind she wrapped herself up in her coat as she reached for the door and opened it, loving the blast of warm air she felt, the place smelled old, like any old college. She looked at the directory and found the Doctor's name and floor and headed up the steps, regretting the idea the moment seh hit the third floor out of breath. She pulled open the heavy door and looked around, finding a young woman sitting behind a receptionist desk. Smiling, she walked over to it and asked for Wesley Paige and took a seat after a moment of questioning. The woman stated she would see if he was available and for her to have a seat.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley heard a knock on his door as he had stared blankely as the file in front of him. He jumpe a little and sat up, looking over at the door.

"Yes, yes, come in!" he called. His receptionist, Lenora, leaned her head in and smiled.

"Sorry to interrupt, Wes, but we have a walk-in, she wants to talk to you," she said, cocking her head. She glanced over her shoulder, leaning in a little more and lowering her vioce. "She's Alexandre Hawthorne's sister..." she whispered. Wesley looked at her over his glasses that were far down on his nose. His gaze was not fond.

"Please, Lenora," he said, raising an eyebrow. She smiled. He nodded, standing up and closing the file. He glanced down at his watch. Three hours until his next patient, and five until his next class. He shrugged. "Send her in, I've plenty of time to get to know someone new."

Lenora smiled and nodded, leaving the door open a little to go back out and tell the woman to go in. Wesley pushed his glasses up and went to the door, to peer out. She was waiting on the couch, looking up expectantly at Lenora as she was told to come in. Wesley smiled as the woman stood up.

"Come on in."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy looked up as she gathered her belongings, purse, coat, and a multicolored scarf that made Harry Potter jealous. What could she say, she was a bright kinda girl. She looked up at the doctor, surprised to find that he was a lot more different than she had expected. With the way the women were talking about him she was expecting a man older than ancient Rome, however he was very young, sorta, and strirking in appearance. Now wonder they were having a love fest by chatting about him over bread like desperate housewives.

"Afternoon." Poppy said with a warm smile. "Sorry for the short notice." She looked around the office seeing there wasn't anyone near, but she still knew a good doctor was always busy. She stepped into his cozy and warm office and heard the door behind her shut. She turned, objects hanging on arm, to see him closing the door and turning around to face her.

"I'm Poppy Hawthorne." She said extending a hand.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled, taking her things and hanging them up before turning and taking her hand, shaking it lightly. He put a hand on her shoulderblade to direct her to a seat.

"I'm Wesley Paige; Wesley, or Doctor Paige will do," he said, holding out his hand to indicate a chair. He waited for her to sit down before he perched on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched her for a moment. She looked like she hadn't slept in awhile, but while not knowing her well, he could immediately tell she was a rational person who was apparently facing something very irrational--probably why she was here. And who wouldn't be? What with her brother committing suicide and all that. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Not to start this all out on the wrong foot or anything, but I want to give my sympathies to you and your family," he said quietly. "I knew you're brother a little, he was a good man."

That being said, he sat down in an overstuffed armchair across from her, and leaned down on his knees.

"So, what can I do for you, Miss Hawthorne?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sat, as he directed, she sat on edge simply because she was on edge! She nodded in response to the expressed condolences, it was always nice to have people apologize for something they had no fault in, but it wa always nice to hear good things about ones brother, too bad it wasn't said while they were alive. It was a morbid thing to Poppy, people always stating wonderful things about people, after death, never while alive or within hearing range.

"Well," She sighed out, readjusting momentarily, leaning her elbows on her knees. "I am just in need of, I dunno, some advice." She bit her lower lip, having talked to herslef in her car and rushing up the stairs, she hadn't thought of anything rational or explainable, all she thought was crazy.

"I arrived here yesterday from Salem, long trip I know, but when I got to his house, Alexandre's, I felt...something." She slit her eyes. "Do you know what I mean?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley listened intently. He nodded at her when she finished. The thought for a moment, feeling like he knew what she meant. He held up a finger and then got up out of his chair to go to the bookcase behind his desk. He searched through it a moment before speaking.

"I completely understand, Miss Hawthorne," he said, plucking the book he'd wanted from the shelf. He turned back to her. "Oftentimes, when a family member dies in a home, and one goes to--as I assume you are--gather their things, the things they last touched, and especially are going to stay in the same place where they spent their last days, a person's mind likes to play tricks on them." He paused to walk over to her and hand here the book--it was middle-sized, a book about the mind and mourning. He sat back down and watched her a moment.

"I'd venture to say you might be experiencing this," he said. Then he waved. "What sorts of things make you feel like that?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy watched, biting her lip, leaning over to see what book he was grabbing, but her mind kept traveling back to what she felt, saw, experienced. She sat back when she heard him speak and pull out the book before handing it to her. She read the title and almost let out a laugh.

"Hmm." She said examining it and looking at Wesley, Doctor Paige, whatever she should call him. "I don't know." She said with a sigh, setting the book on the edge of his desk. "I feel...cold." She let out a laugh and lowered her head for a moment, knowing he'd tell her it was an old house and it was winter.

"I mean, the house is wonderful, huge, but empty. I heard footsteps yesterday, Doctor. Not only footsteps, but a door slamming." She looked up at him and grinned. "Nobody was there. Kind of...odd." She ran a hand over her forehead, she was burning alive, fearing that she would be judged as an idiot.

"ANyway, I searched the house, found nothing. But it didn't stop there." She raised her eyebrows and shrugged a shoulder. "I made tea, I was thinking of Alexandre and what to do...I...looked at my cup. No tea. No teabags in the garbage, followed by the tea package never having been opened! I turned around to grab the pot to make it again, thinking I was just...I don't know thinking too much. The whole damn pot was full! My cup, too." She sighed out. She was getting stressed just talking about it, reliving it! It was too weird.

"Then, that night, I saw..." She paused. That, too creepy for words. "I saw my reflection, except it wasn't me. I saw my head...my...head!" She moved her hands around her head, trying to explain to him that she saw the back of her head instead of her face, she was sure this was going to be a session and advice she'd pay for later.

"It was so freaky! Where my face should have been, it was my head! I wasn't wearing the same thing, it was different, I was wet! I ran to my room, shut and locked the door and got a phone call of some...stupid child laughing." Poppy slumped as if exhausted and stared at Wesley, waiting for him to say something to her, tell her he was going to admit her, immediately to the nut ward. Any moment he'd say it.

"Is that...normal?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley listened quietly, his brow furrowed in thought. Hallucinations, common among greiving family members. But the phone call...that was weird. Even he had to admit that was hard to explain. But after a moment he nodded at her.

"Actually, Miss Hawthorne," he said, leaning forward. He opened his hand a little as he began to explain. "Often, when a family member is greiving another family member, hallucinations are common," he paused a moment, indicating he wasn't telling her that he thought she was crazy. In fact, she was the most sane person that had walked through his door all morning. He leaned back in his chair. He licked his lips.

"I've seen people who swear they even saw their dead relative walk through their door and speak to them. Some people, like you, hear doors slamming, people talking, sometimes people think they've done something and haven't or have done something but for a moment looks like they haven't," he said. He paused a moment to let her think it over. He nodded.

"Beleive me, what you're experiencing is completely normal. Especially since that house is big and old," he said. He paused again. Then he nodded. "As for the phone call, you might have hallucinated the ring and the laughing, but it's also possible someone prank called you. If the teenagers in the community knew you were staying there overnight, they probably thought it would be funny to get their little sister to giggle into the phone, and shake you up a little. I wouldn't think much about that," he said. He could see that having her just recall what had happened had shaken her up. He smiled reassuringly.

"My advice to you would be to buy some light strength sleeping pills, and maybe check into a hotel," he said, gently. "It might be better for you not to sleep there, you know."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sat there looking at the man, the moment he told her it was common she wanted to open her mmouth and tell him that the crap she experienced was in no way shape or form in the realm of reality or real. She couldn't have just imagined all of that. No way!

"Doctor, I came here with the notion that I would feel a little weird in that house, but never would I have imagined hearing things, seeing things, <i>feeling</i> things. Hell, I didn't even think I'd be dreaming of my brother hanging from the chandelier, looking at me! Ever!" She frowned and shook her head.

"That can't be normal. I don't think sleeping pills are a good idea, especially if I am dreaming of freaky...crap. Of all things, Alexandre as well." She sighed out as she looked at the floor, sad that she had even had these dreams of him. His death should have been different, peaceful, and many years away.

"I am not disregaurding your advice, I mean that is why I am here!" She smiled. "I just...cannot understand why such things would be happening."

[Wesley Paige]

Wes chewed his top lip. Oookay, that hadn't worked. So what did she want him to tell her? That her brother was haunting the house? That the other deaths there had made it scary? He sighed a little.

"That house has a long history, Miss Hawthorne, and houses with it's kind of history don't always seem the most welcoming of places. It's old and creepy, and your brother committed suicide there," he said, point blank. He shook his head. "I don't think staying there is a good idea for you..." he paused. Then he made a dipping motion with his head.

"How about I meet you in the middle?" he smiled a little, turning and getting a peice of paper and pen from his desk. He jotted down his name, office, home, and cell phone number, folded the paper up and handed it to her. "There. Now, if you experience anything else, you call me, we'll set up another meeting. It's possible this was a one time thing, and you won't have any other problems. If you do have more problems, then we can talk about it and go from there, okay?" he asked, then he smiled, then reached out and patted her shoulder.

"I want to help you," he said. "I promise I'm not trying to be a big shrink and tell you you're crazy."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Oh yes, that history she had heard all about when Alexandre bought it. People sending him notes, old clippings, he had even had nightmares as well. How odd. She should have mentioned that, too. She looked at Wesley, he was a good looking man, she wondered breifly if he was married. She wanted to cry that her brother would never marry, or have children.

She watched his hands as he picked up a pen and jotted something down. She didn't know why, perhaps as a silent filler, but she liked his hands, and his handwriting she concluded when glancing at the information on the sheet. She nodded, feeling his hand cup her shoulder and for a moment she glanced at it then up to his face, smiling softly.

"I understand." She said kindly. "I just...I don't have that much cash on me to be staying at a hotel, anyway, so I think I can give you a call if I experience anything else." She slowly rised out of her chair, quickly dressing herself in her coat and her scarf, knowing how bitter cold it was.

"I think I misjudged the weather when I came up here." She laughed, grabbing the book on his desk. "Do you mind if I, borrow this?" She smiled at him as she tucked away his address and picked up her small shoulder purse and keys. "You know, I guess I am just a bit spooked." She nodded.

"I'll call. Thanks."

[Wesley Paige]

Wes bid farewell to the woman, smiling at her reassuringly and watching her leave. He went to his window, peering out and seeing the woman come out the front doors and go to her car. He reached up, parting the open blinds a little to see her better. There was snow already falling from the sky, blowing around the woman as she opened her car door and got in. He heard the muffled slam of her car door and watched her drive off campus and down the road.

For a moment, he stood at the window contemplating what she had said, wondering if she had had hallucinations, or if there was something real to it. But after a moment, he laughed it off and walked back over to his desk, sitting down and opening up a file on Miss Poppy Hawthorne. He didn't know if she would become a patient of his, but he thought it might be helpful if he had at least some grounding on her.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy thought he was nice, she had come to that conclusion since she had gotten home and began to cook herself another light meal for dinner, her apetite still not having come back since the crap she had happen to her last night. She sighed out as she grabbed the small bowl of fettucini she had made, walking upstairs as she looked into each room, wondering what to do with them once she decided to sell it. She sighed out, moving onto the eight room. They were all so different, yet at the same time the same. They were all incredbly dark, had one light in the middle of the ceiling, and had one bed and a dresser. Plain. Disgusting. Poppy hated it.

She opened the door and felt a cool blast of air hit her face. She blelw out a sigh as she searched the wall for a light. Another thing, the windows were incredibly drafty, causing the doors to slam, all the rooms being cold. She shivered as she sighed out with annoyance, moving her right hand down the wall. She switched the bowl to her other hand and she felt the wall with her left. For a moment all she felt was cold wall, but suddenly it changed to incredibly warm, slightly wet, like a hand. She frowned and the light came on and she saw a hand covering the lightswitch, she followed the arm to see nothing but a white sheet. She had the mind to scream but didn't. She just dropped her food bowl and slammed the door shut. Was that a hallucination? She thought not.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley laid in his bed, smoking a cigarette and holding his cell phone against his ear, listening as his best friend talked on the other end. Wesley loved his best friend, but that man could talk more than any crazy patient. He laughed at the story for a moment. He sat up slightly to tap his ashes in glass his ash tray on his bedside stand.

He glanced out the window at the snow fluttering outside. His mind was preoccupied with Poppy Hawthorne. He was wondering how she was. If she was really having such vivid hallucinations, then it was possible she might hurt herself. But she was one of the most rational speaking and acting people Wesley had met to date, so he didn't think she would go crazy or anything like that.

"Alright, I'll talk to you tomorrow," Wes said absentmindedly as his friend bid him farewell. He snapped his red Razr shut and laid it on his bedside stand. He hung the cigarette between his lips and got off his bed, pulling up his dark blue exercise pants, and scratching his naked stomach. He walked over to his lap top, putting on his glasses and popping it open. He clicked in the search bar and began to type.

The Wickett Mansion

The search listed hundreds of hits, some phony some actually good. He didn't know how much he actually knew about the place, he was sure newspapers and magazines would be better sources, but it was too late for any library to be open. So instead, he clicked the information site, to see what kind of a history it really had. He knew of deaths here and there, but he didn't really know who exactly had built the house, and why it was so "cursed".

He hoped the few strange deaths he actually knew about weren't a testimony to the whole history of that place.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"I am not hallucinating." She said to herself as she stood contemplating looking at the empty bedroom, post fettuccini clean up. So far she had seen nothing out of the ordinary, just a few dead people here and there, nothing unusual of course! Poppy sighed as she moved down the hall at a good pace, searching rooms for pieces of her brother, his things that was. Something that was beginning to bother her were the constant noises, giggling, footsteps, rattling doors, that sort of thing, plus she wasn't enjoying the fact that the lights in the bedrooms weren't very bright and were all bland.

So far, all the rooms were the same, ridiculously the same, and they all had matching window treatments of dark drapes that hung idle, dust having collected on them, she was tired of the drafts she felt and as she entered another bland, plain, exact room she wandered over to the window treatments and pushed them open, wanting to see if she should invest in some new windows.

Poppy sneezed as she jerked them open, she sniffed and looked at the wall and frowned. For a moment she wondered if perhaps she was just imagining what she saw, but after touching it a few times she realized that it was a wall.

"What?" She said to herself, frowning and walking out into the hall and to another room next door, opening it's curtains as well to find another wall. Within ten minutes every door in the house was open and she was downstairs smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee in the kitchen, shaking with fear and with cold. Certainly she saw those windows outside, certainly she did. She had the moment to go throw on a coat and go see, but she knew that the house had windows, so...why weren't there any windows in the bedrooms? She was contemplating that at the moment, but unfortunate events that followed led her rushing to the living room, her safe haven, dialing the doctors number.

A loud shreik had caused her to drop her cup, footsteps that were loud, heavy, and caused by more than one pair, then all the doors slamming shut...no. She was out of there. She had ran across the lobby, looking up, wondering what the hell was going on, but she wasn't daring to stay for a long time, especially when she heard them nearing the stairs.

She sat in the corner of the room, farthest from the door, holding the cordless to her ear, hearing the phone rining on the other end. If this was a hallucination, she was going to make damn sure of it.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's nose was barely an inch from the computer screen, hanging on every word about a slave whose hands had been chopped off at the wrists by another slave in the kitchen of the Wickett house. The slave had been wrapped in a sheet and thrown into the well...alive. And the chopped off hands? No one had found those yet.

His cell phone blasted it's ringtone, and Wesley's entired body jumped three feet from his chair, and he went falling backwards, his cigarette landing on his leg as he cracked his head against the floor. He groaned but his leg was suddenly burning and he jumped up so fast, knocking the cigarette out of his lap and grabbing it off the carpet, crushing it in his ash tray. He stepped on the place in the carpet where it had landed to make sure nothing was on fire. He brushed off his leg, and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Jesus," he said, slamming his lap top shut and sitting on his bed, grabbing his cell phone, he looked at the number. None he recognized. He flipped it open and put it to his ear, placing his thumb and middle finger on the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Doctor Paige?" he said, in a sigh.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

His voice, her savoir.

"Doctor! Paige, Wesley! Hi, this is Poppy Hawthorne, Alexandre's sister, I saw you today?" Of course he would recall it! He only gave her his contacts! She frowned and rubbed the bridge of her nose, already she was sounding like a nut bag.

"I wish this call were more on the chatty side, but I cannot say that what I have to talk about it really contrary to the weather." She opened her eyes and looked up at the double sliding wooden doors that rattled lightly from, something, she wasn't about to find out, but she prayed it was just the wind blowing.

"So, tell me," She said with a click of her tongue. "You haven't happened to ever visit my brother's home have you?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley stared blankly at the window for a moment as if he hadn't understood a word she'd said. Finally, after a moment he restarted his brain and stood up, running a hand into his hair and scratching his head. He nodded a little, like she would be able to see him.

"Uh, yeah, several times," he said, glancing at the clock, then his watch to make sure it really was almost eleven at night. He shook his head. "I was good friends with the owner who sold it to Alexandre, and then Alexandre called me and had me over once when he first moved in..." he paused a moment. She sounded very upset. He paused before speaking.

"Something wrong?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy picked at a string on her pants, listening to the silence before he spoke. He sounded good on the phone, she figured her brain needed something of good thought. She frowned.

"My...he invited you here?" She frowned, suddenly the conversation shifting for a breif moment. She closed her eyes with a heavy frown and shook her head, standing up and pacing. "Nevermind, we can discuss that later, but anyway...have you ever been in one of the rooms upstairs?" She waited for a moment before he responded with a simple 'no', followed by a 'why'.

"Hmph." She grunted. She sighed out with a little laugh. "Well, let me fill you in on something!" She smiled, although this wasn't something to smile about, she just found this entire thing so psychotic that if she didn't laugh, she'd cry, or kill herself. She shivered. Had her brother thought the same thing?

"Uh, well, I was wandering about, enjoying my really good italian meal I had made when I came home. I actually didn't thin kit would be that good since the box was kinda dusty, don't ever shop at Marty's Convenient store, their food might be good, but their store isn't very sanitary!" She sighed. "Sorry! Anyway," Poppy knew by now he would think she was nuts.

"Well, I am trying to asess the rooms to see what I can do before I get rid of this house. Well, first things first, my meal was completely ruined by feeling a freakin' hand on the wall! A hand! A wet, nappy, decaying hand! Yeah!" She spoke quickly, making sure thather point was getting across to the man loud and clear.

"Well, turning on the light, yeah! That...bad idea. I see this...thing...person, I guess, in an effin sheet, nasty sheet mind you, standing there holding the light switch. Well I dropped my stuff and headed out of the room. Oh, but it didn't stop there. All the rooms, I came to conclude after realizing I just imagined that thing, there aren't any windows. None. They have curtains, but no window to back it up. That, my friend, I didn't imagine.

"So, smoking a cigarette and drinking some coffee to ease my mind, I heard a loud scream, I mean blood curling, i-am-getting-butchered kinda scream! I hear mutliple footsteps running around upstairs, all the doors to the bedrooms slam shut. My butt is out of that kitchen, hiding out in the living room, sitting in a corner scared to death, dialing your number." She sighed out.

"So, think you can make a pint out of that?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley opened his mouth. It hung open for a long moment, before he decided that words would ruin it. Speaking would ruin the moment he was having with God as to whether or not Psychiatry was really the path for him. However, after another moment, he opened his mouth again. Then he closed it. He didn't exactly know what to say to all of that. What did one say to that? For another moment, he just stared at his reflection in the window, and watching the snow flurrying outside.

"Hm," was all he could manage after the few moments he had taken. "That's interesting," he said, matter-of-factly, like he was talking about the weather rather than anything that had just come out of her mouth. He licked his lips and stood up, resting on hand on his hip, switching the phone to his other ear. He shifted his weight a little, using his shoulder to cradle to phone and wiping his face with his other hand.

"That's...hm," he said. He shook his head. "Are you positive about all that? I mean, you touched the hand? You didn't touch the wall imagine it was a hand and then let everything else supply itself?" he asked, trying to fit all this in logical brain.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy frowned, stopped in her pacing to just stand there, mouth open, mad face, but shock in her brain.

"Please, tell me you are kidding? Wesley?" She scoffed, dropping her hand that was on her hip to look at the door. "Sh--" She walked to the door quickly and closed the doors and locked them. "I saw a damn hand! A damn sheet! And now, as I stood here on the phone, I just...my room was invaded!" She pulled on the handles to see that it was closing fine and locking fine.

"My doors to the living room were shut and locked, Wesley! Shut and locked! But I turn my back for one second, turn around, they are wide open! How am I making this up?" She sighed out stress getting to her.

"I saw everything. I don't know what to do. I don't. I am seeing things, hearing things, having things happen to me. It's nuts." Poppy prayed that he wasn't going to say that she was nuts in return, but she had never been more sane in her entire life, matter of fact a psychotic person would be scared sane if they were in her shoes. Poppy just hoped he had some words of comfort or advice for her situation, after all he did say call if anything else happened, at this rate...they'd be on the phone all the time if this were to keep up.

"I mean, should I call a priest or something?"

[Wesley Paige]

Of course she didn't think it was a hallucination. No one ever thought their hallucinations were actually hallucinations. But Wes had been in that house, time and over, and he had never seen anything. So the rooms upstairs were a little messed up, there had been some strange owners in the past. Was she expecting him to get excited about that? Poppy didn't seem to understand how powerful the mind was. If given the proper provocations, it could create an entirely different world of its own, with people, places, things that don't exist in the real world/

Wesley wiped his forehead, listening to her harried voice, and quick breathing. He didn't exactly know how to help her if she wanted to call it ghosts. He shrugged a little.

"If you're a religious woman, call a preist, if it makes you feel better," he said, shaking his head a little. What she was saying to him just wasn't logical at all. These things didn't happen in the real world. And Wesley didn't put any chips on God. God hadn't helped him from the day he came out of the womb, he didn't think the Big Man would start all over a sudden now.

"My best advice for this moment?" he asked. "Don't pay them any mind. A lot of times if you just act like they don't bother you, they'll go away," he said. It was a common method of dealing when a patient who hallucinates can't, or doesn't want, to take medication. Hallucinations could be supressed if dealt with in this way. And he was afraid he didn't have any other advice for her.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy knew she wasn't crazy, which is why she went about her life ignoring the incredibly obvious things that happened. Rice that turned to maggots, then back to rice, bloody showers, that ended up going back to normal, apparitions that would dissappear through walls and stairs. Nightmares that caused her so many restless nights that she swore she would never sleep again, but somehow, through all it all, she was dealing well. Lights were on all the time, she would ignore what she saw, she would listen to her iPod, she would just go about her day, but somehow it seemed that after one week she was ready to just go find the nearest cliff and jump. It was too stressful, especially when she wasn't wanting to call Doctor Paige every night at 4 in the morning, but sadly she usually would call and would usually hang up before he answered.

Poppy, unable to really stay sane any longer, figured it would be in her best interest to go ahead and start packing things away, start getting things together to move because she wanted to get the hell out of this house before she ended up like her brother, who would haunt her in her dreams and would cause so much havoc that she was literally beginning to contemplate a hotel room. Something that had happend twice was the fact that she would wake up from a nightmare that had him stalking her with a broken neck, to hear incredibly earth shattering sounds only to find that the chandelier in the ballroom was off kilter, it was sideways from where he hung himself, which was an incredible enigma to everyone who knew this house and her brother, and especially those who found him. There wasn't any way he could have gotten up there by himself, it was impossible.

Poppy tried to ignore this, she went about packing and had finally made it to his room, the final room to pack before she made arrangements to get this place cleaned by maids and furnished by those who set up houses before being sold. She was in his room now, playing around, trying to not cry at every little piece of him she found, the last thing that almost made her lose it was a piece of his hair on his pillow, followed by the scent that still remained. How could he have killed himself? How?

Poppy pushed that in the back of her mind every time she thought of him, or thought about crying, forcing herself to continue, forcing herself to move on knowing he was at least in a better place, she hoped.

"Dang." Poppy grunted standing on her tip toes, trying her best to get the suitcase he had stuffed at the back of the closet. She would try jumping, but it would only push it further back, and getting on stools, well she didn't feel like having a rush of air hit her nad knock her off to only break her neck and join him in peace. So, tip toes were all she was relying on.

"Come...on!" She grunted as she almsot touched the leather strap, but it suddenly fell out of reach, crashing into something. Poppy frowned, taking a sigh and jumping as high as she could. She screamed when she saw a face, falling to the floor and putting her hands over her head, but after a moment went by she realized she wasn't dying and looked up, slowly, to see a small hole in the closet wall. Frowning, she saw her brother's suitcase.

"What in the hell?" SHe said with a sigh of agitation. So, there was a hold in the wall and she had pushed it back into it. "Great day." Poppy crawled over to the closet and grabbed the falling wallpaper covered dry wall and pulled it open. It fell off the wall pretty quickly and she pulled out the suitcase, bring more pieces of dry wall with it. She frowned as she sat on the floor, looking into the dark hole, seeing something of odd shape. Slowly, she began to move back into the closet, pushing some more of the wall in, she frowned as she surveyed the area, seeing nothing but stairs, unfortunately, the stairs were upside down.

All Poppy could think was that there was another room behind the wall and that she would have to be calling some contracters to get out there and tear it down.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley was on edge. Poppy Hawthorne had been calling at Godforsaken hours, sometimes being there when he picked up, sometimes she would hang up before he answered. Sometimes she would leave panicked messages for him to wake up to. He'd been late for work three times in the past two weeks due to long conversations with her to coax her to calm down and go to bed.

He was about to ready to go over there and hang himself on the chandelier. He was distracted in patient meetings, he found himself typing one letter over and over on his computer because his mind was blank with tire. Today, he was staring down at a file for a young woman he had just gotten through talking to, and he couldn't bring himself to write any notes down.

Wesley sighed heavily, and got up, moving out into his receptionist's office, and got a big mug of coffee to suck down. He stared down into the cup, thinking hard--or trying to. He thought that if he got another call from that woman, he might actually die.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"What?" Poppy yelled in a high pitched shocked tone, looking at a young man wearing coveralls and shaking his head, opening up the door to his four door pick-up truck that had the contracting companies name written on the side.

She was half naked this morning, but she didn't care she heard three grown men scream followed by tools being dropped and rushing down the stairs and into their cars. Now she was having a meeting, that was highly impersonal considering she was wearing her baggy pajama bottoms and a white tank top, minus bra, and facing freezing winter temperatures outside, no socks or shoes, just tire in her eyes and panic in her voice.

"Grown effing men! GROWN! Just because they saw a woman all bloodied up in a funky room doesn't mean anything! I see it everyday and I am still sane!" The man looked at her through the window of his opened door, glaring at her face, then to her breasts then to her face again.

<i>"Yeah, right!"</i> Poppy frowned and looked down at herself and quickly saw the obvious and crossed her arms over her chest. <i>"Look, lady, I jsut came by to get my men's things. They say they ain't comin' back here until you get a exorcist or somethin'. Your house ain't right, and you ain't neither fer stayin' here."</i> Poppy frowned.

"You jerk! I pay you good money!" The man closed the door and started his piece of junk up and gave her a wave. "Don't you drive away! I paid you in full all ready!!" She screamed as the car began to back up with mighty force, unable to think of much else she continued screaming at him, simply because she knew seh wasn't crazy, knew that she wanted someone to stay with her in that house and because she had just lost over 2 grand. She bent down and picked up a few pebbles and threw them at his car as she quickjly drove by her, tossing dust in the air. She inahled as she went to scream more but began coughing, hard. She almost felll to the ground at the force of her coughing, but she simply turned around, so upset that she wanted to cry.

"What is wrong with people!" She yelled as she slammed the door to the house, hearing footsteps run across the hall. Poppy, in alll annoyance, ran up the stairs, as if to chase the footsteps, and ran into the bedroom, looking around for whatever she could, she saw a sledgehammer in the corner and she ran over to it. She bent down and grabbed the greasy handle and ran with full force to the closet and bashed the wall in with all her might, she did it at least ten times before her arms went to jelly and she dropped the object to the floor next to her. She coughed violently from the dust, from the fact her lungs were still freezing, and that she was on the verge of an asthma attack. She sighed out as she bent down, slowly looking into the opened area she had just formed, shaking her head to find an old room that had nothing but crazy upside down stairs.

"Where is a freakin' woman? Where?" She said to herself, almost not believing the man either. What was wrong with people? She lived with it, why can't they? She looked around, almost half expecting to see something. To her own dismay, she did.

She frowned when she heard water dripping, loud drops like the kind you heard in the bathroom or kitchen, hell it was almost like someone was dropping pennies into a basin full of water. She looked around and saw nothing so she slid out of the hole and into the bedroom, recalling where she put the flashlight. Pulling the black object out of the top drawer of the dresser she went to the hole and turned it on.

The moment the bright white orb hit the black area she was faced with a set of upside down stairs, water literally falling upside down onto them as if they were right side up. She was speechless and for a moment she thought she was going to faint by the lack of air when she saw a set of hands slowly coming down the stairs, or up whichever was correct. White hands that were wet, bloody, decaying. Poppy fell back against the wall with fear as she watched, trying to breathe, she frowned and felt something against her hair, she brushed her hair with her hands and felt something in her hair, she screamed and shook her head only to see a dead hand laying on her shoulder. She screamed and dropped the flashlight and crawled out of the room, brushing herself off as best she could, screaming and spinning in circles as if she were on fire. When she realized nothing was on her she fell to the floor, gasping for air, seeing hands slowly grabbing the wall. She screamed and stood up, dumsily so, and ran out of the room, and towards the stairs into the lobby. Without every thinking of grabbing anything else she found her keys and was out of the house, and to her car, minus everythign still.

She didn't care what time it was, what seh was wearing, or what she wasn't, she was going to see Wesley face to face so he could just see for himself what she was seeing, what she looked like after one week in that house. If he didn't believe her by looking then she was going to smack his face.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley was chatting with his receptionist. It was going to be a slow day, as almost all his clients had cancelled due to other engagements, and because he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in two weeks, he had called off all of his classes. He figured, hey, it was Friday, everybody needed a three day weekend. Especially since the weather was promising to be brutal the next few days.

His receptionist was telling him about a trip she would be taking and she was asking if it was alright she take off. Of course, it was, and he asked her where she was going. And just as she was about to begin explaining, Wes and the woman jumped three feet at the sound of the door upstairs slamming against the wall as it was opened. Welsey's brow furrowed as the sound of bare feet slapping against the tile was echoing through the halls. He looked up and watched, with amazement as a barely clothed, harried looking, and bare footed Poppy came hurtling down the stairs towards them.

"What the hell?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

She hadn't been in such a hurry in all her life, had she been pulled by the cops she would have been arrested and probably on television because she was sure she looked like white trash, plus she had forgotten her license at her house. Or, whoevers house that was! She wasn't even sure who owned that thing, her brother's precense, herself, or the damn...whatevers she saw at random! She saw the doctor chatting with his receptionist but apparently having her grand entrance wake the dead she figured there wasn't any need to explain. She pointed at the man and spoke quickly as she walked by him hurriedly.

"You...me...now!" She walked into his office, as if she owned the place and held the door handle, waiting for him to follow. "I don't have all day!" She said slightly refraining from being a complete jerk, but showing her true fear for the first time.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley set his jaw. Now who did she think she was? He slammed his coffee cup down, and some hot coffee spilt on his hand. But he wasn't even caring right now. He marched into his office and took the door handle from the woman, slamming the door shut. He took her arm and pulled her to the middle of the room.

"Calling me at all hours of the night when I have to work in the morning, Ms. Hawthorne, is one thing, but storming into my place of business with barely any clothing on and ordering me around like we're getting divorced is something entirely different," he said, very loudly, and very sternly. He could tell she was visibly shaken, and he was worried, honestly, but there was only so much one human being could stand from another human being. He shook his head.

"I suppose you're going to announce why you're here?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"I have already been violated in more ways than one today, Mister Paige, so take your hands off me!" She jerked her arm away, not really able to control the anger that had literally been caused by the fear that constantly lurked and grew with each passing day.

"You don't know what I go through at night! I call you for help and you do nothing! You just tell me to do whatever I want, to read books on ghosts, to take sleep aids, to do this, do that, you tell me everything but what I need to know!" She pushed some fallen hair out of her eyes and sighed.

"I don't mean to be a burden, I don't, but listen to me! Please just...listen." She softened her tone to sheer fear and to desperation. "I need someone to explain to me what is going on in my house!" She bit her lower lip, biting back the tears of incredible fear. It was something she lived with for one whole week, she would have rather been kidnapped than a prisoner in her own home.

"I saw something today that...I cannot explain. I have the number of Thornton Contractor's, eight men all pass the age of 30 witnesses to what I saw. They ran away from my house and left their equipment behind. Their boss came to me today telling me they were not working on that house. They said I was crazy for staying there." She took a moment to breathe and to swallow.

"I saw...hands...walking down stairs that were...that...that were upside down! Unnatural! They were bloody, dead cold hands!" She held out her palms as if he could see what she saw on her hands, but it was just her desperation to show him everything. "It was raining in a room. My chandelier is sideways, I have night terrors of my brother, I have a hand on my shoulder, Wesley! On my shoulder!" She shook and made a noise of disgust.

"I am not crazy! I cannot be." She sighed out and walked as close to him as she could without practically jumping onto him. "There is something wrong with that house."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley watched her with his mouth hung open. He listened, not believing, not understanding how she got hat he did nothing to help her. He rubbed his forehead, and then under his glasses to try and clear his eyes out. She kept talking, telling about contractors, and he shook his head. When she finally finished, he couldn't bring himself to say anything. For a long time there was just silence. Just the sound of her breathing heavily and his heart in his head as his temple throbbed due to his yelling, her yelling, and his lack of coffee.

Wesley leaned backwards against his desk, pulling off his glasses and laying them on his desk. He rubbed his face, reordering his thoughts before he spoke. After a long moment of nothing, he looked up and pointed at her.

"Don't pin this on me. You call me to make me tell you your house is haunted, and frankly, Ms. Hawthorne, I don't believe it. I give you my opinion, and you throw it in my face. Most people pay thousands a year for my advice, and I haven't charged you a damn thing because you're brother just committed suicide," he paused a moment, watching her before he dropped his hand and stood up straightening. He moved on.

"That being said," he muttered, taking a deep breath. "You had contractors to your house?" he asked, interested in the men who had seen these things too. "Why?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was taken aback by his comment about her brother. Hearing his question she ignored it.

"You are listening to me out of sympathy? You...jerk!" She had a mind to smack him, but knew it wasn't very wise to go around harassing people at night and then beat them up at their office. She had barely enough money as it was. That being caught in her head and tossed out by common sense she fell into a chair and sighed out.

"God, help me." She said with a laugh. "I had been trying to clear out my brother's stuff. Sell this house. Well, it fell behind the wall. I saw a face in this hole and, fearing for God, I was on the floor trying to protect myself. Well, when I realized I wasn't going to die today I played with the wall seeing it had been broken open by the suitcase that fell, that is what I was reaching for in his closet by the way, and, like, I don't know! I saw...these stairs all over the room, upside down stairs, you know?" She frowned, looking at him, her voice calm and suddenly she felt like a patient of his.

"Anyway...I couldn't beat the thing down with just my foot so I called some guys to come out and see what was behind the wall. Well, I know now that I have hidden rooms behind my walls. That is why there aren't any windows, someone built walls around all the original rooms. I want to see what the hell is behind there." She bit her lower lip, staring at Wesley, waiting for him to say something, but she continued.

"I just...need you to see that I am not nuts, but if you think I need sleep, fine. Give me pills."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed and collapsed in a chair of his own. His mind was officially blown, but for some odd reason, he was inclined to believe her all of a sudden. Because of all the research he'd done, ghosts suddenly would be the least of his worries at that house. He would be worrying about a portal to Hell or something like that. He didn't speak for a moment. He needed to gather his thoughts. Finally however, he leaned forward on his knees and shook his head.

"Look, Ms. Hawthorne, I'm not inclined to think you are crazy," he said rationally. He nodded. "Granted, I do think sleep is vital, and might help you a bit," he paused again. "But knowing what I do about that place, hidden rooms aren't exactly that surprising," he said with a shrug. Then he sighed.

"But you have to understand, Ms. Hawthorne, I'm a psychiatrist. I base all of my beliefs in the real world, the tangible, mathematical, scientific world. I base my work on facts. Now, it is a fact that house's history is less than savory, but I don't believe that has anything to do with how the house is now, and I don't believe in ghosts," he stated firmly so she knew exactly where he stood. Then he sighed.

"That being said..." he waited a moment, before holding out his arms, as if waiting for something. "I want to hear what you want me to do to help you. I've tried giving you the advice I know, and it obviously hasn't helped."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Accepting the inevitable she nodded, standing, suddenly freezing to death all of a sudden. She shivered recalling she was completely naked, almost, especially for this weather. She let out a laugh.

"I need sleep, Wesley." She went back to feeling comfort in calling him by that name. She hadn't had anyone to talk to except him and it made her feel like she was close to someone again, having nobody anymore was kind of a lonely feeling and not having someone to experience the loss with her...Wesley seemed like that quick fix.

"I...lets try sleep. If...things progress, we'll see." She gave in, finally, but if she heard anything, if it got worse...that was it...death was coming to that house.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed. He got up and walked around his desk. He sat down in his rolling chair and opened his top drawer. Wes pulled out a small slip of paper from her file in his drawer. He wrote her name and his own and then the number and pills he wanted. He made sure to write hard enough so it would go through to the slip underneath. He wanted to make sure he had a copy. He pulled the top slip off and stood, handing it over the desk to her.

"In town," he began. "There is a small pharmacy, Aggie's Pharmacy. I do all of my business there. These are really strong pills, so it's only one an hour before you head to the sack, alright?" he said, watching her closely.

"If things calm down, we'll no it was stress and lack of sleep," he said. Then he sighed. "And if they don't...God help us if we don't cross that bridge when we come to it."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sighed, skeptical beyond a shadow of a doubt as she looked at hte paper, but it was her last resort. She nodded as she spoke, took the paper and stood.

"Okay." She said with a sigh. She was now suddenly very tired, all that enerfy being wasted on fear and house, er ghost, hunting...pills would only help her sleep deeper. Perhaps it'd be so deep she didn't even dream, boy, that would be lovely. She felt like Freddy Krueger was invading her dreams or something by the way she acted.

"Sorry about the whole...slamming doors and bossing you around." She felt he needed something to let him know she at least had some sense. "I'll...call you later in teh week, at a decent hour." She laughed lightly and rubbed her forehead. "Thanks. "

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley was laying on his bed. Staring at the ceiling. Resisting the urge to call Poppy and make sure she was okay. Even though he had hated having those calls in the middle of the friggin' night, he had begun to rely on them to let him know that she was still alive and breathing and in the human world. Now that she hadn't called him yet, he was waiting for the police to call and tell him that she had hung herself too.

He was shirtless, in only exercise pants, his arms crossed under his head, his legs crossed, one foot bouncing impatiently. His TV was on, a dull background noise. His phone was sitting on his bedside table, his laptop sitting open on his desk in front of his curtained window. The soft glow of his grey and blue background was soothing. Even though he had every light in the house on, he didn't feel safe this evening, was ill at ease. He usually left his curtains open all night, so he could look outside at the city, and snow if it began to fall. But tonight, he had closed the curtains as soon as he'd gotten home. The feeling of being watched was not normal for him, and neither was it a comfortable one. This was when living alone was bad for him.

He glanced over at his phone to see the time--ten o'nine. He should have known, the nine o'clock local news had been on for about ten minutes. Wes sat up and crossed his legs indian style, tapping his knee with his finger. He needed to chill. All this stress was not going to bode well for him.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

It had been a long night, Poppy had concluded the moment she woke up, seeing that it was one in the afternoon. She had passed out, literally, around 9 that night which meant this was the longest she had ever slept in probably her entire life. Those sleeping pills weren't joking when they warned about driving or operating heavy machinery. She had gotten knocked out within ten minutes of taking the pills. After having showered, Poppy was wondering if it was even safe to keep using since she felt a little dazed, groggy, and sometimes out of place, like she were in a dream. To her dismay she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore and that was worse than when she had gotten to the house.

She hadn't seen anything, didn't have a nightmare, just slept like a child and wandered around feeling like she didn't need to do anything. It was a good feeling, of course, but for some reason she felt that with all that tire in her body and that feeling of being displaced out of her own reality, it made her feel more vulnerable than before. So far, though, it had been smooth sailing. She had gotten things together, cleaned the house, did work that she thought would never get done since she started visualizing creepy things. But having not seen anything, it made her worry. Were they trying to get her good? Were they going to do something much worse than before? Was she going to do something to harm herself? All of those questions burned in her brain as she cautiously continued to work, playing in the kitchen, cleaning out shelves and such, making it look clean and organized, mopping the entire house, dusting, vacuuming throw rugs. Anything that kept her busy and unaware of whether or not something was lurking nearby. Oh course, she realized by the time she had been three hours into her cleaning, her brain overanalyzing every situation possible, that it couldn't have just been lack of sleep. Those things she kept witnessing, hearing, feeling...those were real, not imaginary. To think that it was all because she was exhausted, well that seemed crazy.

Poppy yawned as she bent down to grab the comet under the bathroom sink, the master bathroom upstairs being the only room, she found, to be in its correct spot without any walls or anything behind it. Luckily, she had strayed away from breaking out walls, although she was sure she'd soon do it after the house cleaning was done. Blinking away the water in her eyes she bent down over the tub, pouring the powder from the drain to the back of the tub, all craziness aside, Alexandre had kept the house in beautiful shape, she could tell where he had focused his time and money and where he neglected other parts that weren't so important. Bedroom's, she noticed, were last, major rooms downstairs were where he really thought hard. The floors, after being mopped, were sparkly and breathtaking inlaid wood, the stairs had been redone so they wouldn't creak, the kitchen had new floors and appliances, everything was great, save those last rooms upstairs that she now had to take over, which was something she wasn't looking forward to.

Poppy didn't want to think anymore on that subject, she just wanted to get done with the bathroom considering this was her least favorite place to clean. She bent down on her knees and over the lip of the tub, taking her damp scrubbing pad and began to clean off soap scum and dirt. She would stop to take a breather, the chemicals in the comet always giving her a headache. When the silence began to get to her she hummed a song, whatever came to mind, but eventually it would get old and she'd want to try a different tune.

The sound of the scrubber and the grainy comet echoed in the bathroom, her hard elbow grease getting into the cleaning letting out agression she probably never knew she had. Amidst her cleaning she paused, suddenly getting that odd feeling. She leaned up and looked over her shoulder quickly, waiting for something to pop out behind her or run down the hallway. But when she saw nothing, she figured it was just her grogginess. She turned back around and leaned to the tub, scrubbing on down towards the drain. Then she felt it again. She leaned up quickly, her heart in her throat, she held her breath for a moment, waiting...anxious...but when she saw nothing she didn't know whether to be relieved or to be fearful. Her ears perked in the silence, a sound of something tinkling against the lead pipes brought her attention back to the tub. She frowned, looking around blindly listening to the small tinks and the small taps she heard. She wasn't sure what it was, but she tired to ignore it as she scrubbed some more. But it only got louder, closer. She frowned and stopped. What the hell was that?

Poppy looked around and spotted the open drain, it was an old house and the bathroom was redone to look vintage, with a pedostle sink, oval mirror, pull-chain toilet, and a four clawed bathtub and a beautiful large rain drop shower head. It was vintage, yet it was stylish. She frowned, leaning down towards the plug-drain, t he noises getting louder, like something was <i>crawling</i> up the drain. She leaned forward to see if she could see anything, but she saw nothing, but heard something. The louder it was the closer it felt and when she almost thought she saw something, Poppy gasped and grabbed the plug and pushed it over the drain, holding it down with all her might, fearful that somethign was going to come out of it and kill her, although it was just a drain, nothing of much terror could fit through it, except maybe bugs. She shivered.

"Yuck." She said as she stood up, she'll clean it later, she though. She tossed the scubber into the tub and washed her hands then headed down the hall, ignoring that feeling of something being near her. She tried to shake it off and walked down the stairs, heading to her favorite room in the house, the kitchen, to make some tea. Poppy wondered what the Doctor was up to, how he was since her ridiculous entrance yesterday at his office. She should call him, she figured, to apologize and tell him that she slept great, but felt funny, but she figured she'd get used to it.

[Wesley Paige]

His Saturday was going peachy. Shopping in the morning had made his toes feel like he was suffering from frost bite, but other than that he was healthy and happy. He had gotten a good night's sleep finally, and had gotten up with enough time to clean his apartment, deal with his mail, call some patients and get some things straightened out.

He had successfully not thought about Poppy Hawthorne all morning, until he had happened to drive up past the lake in front of the plantation. It was surrounded by mist, fog maybe, and he had barely seen her car parked there, and a light on inside. He had wondered how she wasm, if those sleeping pills had helped at all with her symptoms. He had considered calling her for a long while now, but had decided against it until around two o'clock, when he figured she would have been up already.

He dialed her number, and rested his cell phone against his shoulder as he typed on his computer, still obsessing over the history of the plantation. He hadn't known how much he hadn't known about that place. It's grounds dated far back before the civil war, and the building that had originally stood there, had been a slaughterhouse for cows, pigs, chickens, and, on occassion, a place where prisoners from a local jail would be slaughtered.

While the phone rang, Wes cringed as he read more details. That place was completely stained by a bloody history Wesley had had no idea existed.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"What. Why?" She sighed out, holding a tea pot under the sink, annoyed that no water was coming out, except hearing the nasty sound of creaking pipes. It was almost scary, but considering it was about the degree of freezing temperatures outside she figured it had a reasonable explanation as to what those noises were. Frozen pipes.

She sighed out when she heard the phone blare loudly, she kept the water faucet turned on and walked over to the wall and pulled the phone off the base and pushed talk.

"Hawthorne residence." She said very professionally, knowing that some people might possibly be interested in purchasing this piece of tormented land. "This is Poppy."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's stomach jumped uncomfortably for no reason when he heard her pick up the phone. It frightened a response out of him. He smiled.

"Good morning, Miss Hawthorne," he said as softly as he could. He turned in his chair, and looked up at his cieling, crossing his legs and bobbing his foot a little. He smiled. "How did those sleeping pills work for you? Any response at all?" he asked.

He was waiting for her to bawl him out, tell him that no, the pills didn't work, and she never wanted to hear his voice again, she was going to find an exorcist and get the house taken care of.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy stopped in her anger of trying to figure how to unthaw pipes, his voice sounding a lot different on the phone. This was the first time he had actually called her, felt kinda...different. She smiled widely, almost as if this were some call seh was getting from a lover, or a man she admired and was about to get asked out on a date.

"Well, good morning to you, Wesley." She went back to no longer being formal, which was funny cause she would switch in calling him different names. "I slept great." She sighed out, wandering back to the kitchen sink to still hear those deep creaking sounds coming from within the walls as the ice popped. "However, I still feel groggy." Poppy wasn't going to quickly tell him how magical those pills were, yet, she still heard things, but she was going to give it a few more days to see if she was fully away from ghosts and paranormal.

"How did you sleep last night?" She cocked an eyebrow. What, was she trying to flirt via phone? It was unintentional, but she couldn't help it. "You know...you sound really sexy over the phone." Her brash personality shines through! She made a face wondering if she was now being too personal with him, afterall she had been making 80 phone calls to him a night, she was sure he finally got some sleep!

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley couldn't help but laugh as he stood up from his chair and wandered arounf for moment. He was either being hit on, or she was just crazy in the morning. He nodded a little.

"I have heard," he said lightly. He shook his head. "Referring backwards, being groggy, especially since this was your first time taking it, is definately normal. In fact, the first few days your take it, it will probably make you pretty groggy in the morning. It's a very strong sleep aid, and you probably ought not take it more than a month or so. So, if this works out, after about a month and a half, how would you feel about going down and getting on a lighter sleep aid?" he asked. He had been considering it since he had prescribed the pill for her in the first place. After all, this pill could make her dependant and he didn't want that at all.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy listened to him, her mind taking in what he was saying, while he body worked on hitting the faucet of the sink, which was stupid cause she knew it had nothing to do with it. She almost cursed, almost, but refrained, knowing that the good doctor didn't need to have an ear full of obscenities without her actually having seen a ghost, which weren't real.

"I suppose." She said with a sigh. "I don't fancy taking pills, but I guess after last night I may as well. I mean, the only odd thing that has happened to me today was hearing something in the pipes and getting that weird feeling." She stopped. She was almost on the right path to being considered normal again by this man and now she was talking about nosies. If she ever wanted to get on his good side, she needn't mention it again.

"But, it's my pipes. They are ridiculously frozen." She leaned up from looking at the faucet and tea kettle. She leaned on the sink with her hip and crossed her arms, looking out of the window at the well. She recalled there being water in there, her brother said it was a natural resource. She almost had the though of grabbing her coat and going out and getting her some water. But she was wanting to heat up the house and see if that worked.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley nodded. If he hadn't lived in an apartment building in the city, his pipes would be frozen too. In fact, his parents had called earlier from the countryside to complain about their frozen pipes. And his lights had flickered a few times, but so far so good. Wes moved into the living room, sitting down on the couch and nodding a little to himself.

"Right. Well, I'm glad to hear you got a good night's sleep, it was well deserved," he said. He sighed. "About those frozen pipes, be careful. If you need any help getting them right again, I'm with my phone all the time...as you well know," he said good-naturedly, to let her know he was not trying to be mean to her. He shook his head. "Anyway, anything changes, you have any adverse effects with the medicine, be sure to call."

Wesley was sincerely glad to hear that she was feeling at least sort of better. He was glad to know she had been able to get a good night's sleep. It was something neither of them had been able to acheive in the past week or so. The more restful nights they got the better.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy smiled, and said goodbye. That conversation made her feel suddenly happy, alive, and just no longer afraid. She didn't know why, but she was sure it was because the conversation didn't relate to anything other than business, no spooky unexplainable things that happened to her while she slept, or tried to.

She hung up with a smile on her face despite the tragedy she faced when it came to wanting to have some tea. Poppy kept glancing at the kettle, the faucet, the well, then back. She was a fiend for some tea, anyone who knew her knew that she was a sucker for any kind of tea, even if she had never tried it she wouldn't deny it. She loved it, coffee too, but this was just a day she craved earl grey.

"Crap." She moaned, defeating herself in a one way battle. She turned out of the kitchen, regretting the decision already, but she didn't care, she wanted that tea and it would last her all night and it was barely nearing five in the afternoon anyhow. She sighed out as she wandered into the lobby and to the small door under the stairs, hating how incredibly dark it was in there and how the steps looked like they were upside down. She shivered, recalling what she had seen in the bedroom wall. She hadn't accepted what she saw in there, which was why she literally had her brother's room packed within minutes. But in teh back of her mind she realized now that all the rooms were small, and it all didn't make sense as to why the upstairs was so small. Although she knew there were rooms behind the walls, she just wanted to know why.

She closed the door as she put on her coat, heading outside into the blistering cold. She yawened, despite feeling wide awake by the freezing air that hit her face and almost froze it off. She listened to the dead leaves on the ground sizzle as they rustled by the air, some twirling in the air and distracting her momentarily. But her mission was that well behind the house and the water inside it for her tea.

She smiled, she was so addicted to it to the point she'd risk frostbite for it. Poppy rolled her eyes as she wandered to the well, recalling that movie about some girl that was tossed down one. What was taht movie? She frowned, no need to think dead bodies were in her well. She sighed, looking around at the odd wooden contraption which allowed her to lower her bucket, that sat on the ground. She bent down and picked it up and looked inside. Looked clean. She shrugged and looked down into the dark abyss of the well and sighed, why was this such a scary task? It was just a damned well!

Poppy lifted it above the hole and let it go, watching the rope and the crank spin wildly until she heard it splash down below. She looked down it, smelling the damp water as air blew over the hole, dragging up the scent. She smiled and looked at the crank and grabbed the large handle and slowly being tugging on it, watching the rope twirl around the wooden piece hovering above it. She sighed, thsi was hard on the arms, she wasn't really one who enjoyed hard labor, it was almost like the damn thing was dragging a body along with it. For a moment she shivered, not because of the cold, but because she would almost believe that.

She saw the rope getting wetter as she pulled and she saw the bucket nearing the top.

"Thank god." She said with a sigh, cranking hard than before, hearing the water slosh in the bucket. She grabbed the crank and grabbed the stopper that hung on its own rope, allowing her to pick up the bucket without it falling back. She sighed when it latched. She turned and grabbed the bucket by the lip, unhooking the rope from around the handle. She frowned when it was giving her hell. It was old, rusted, and the hook wasn't budging, it was like one of those latch hooks. She frowned when she felt water splash on her hand, if she kept moving it she'd spill it all. She shivered as the water slid up to her wrist and then her forearm. She looked down and screamed at the hands that were crawling like bugs out of the water and onto her wrist. She shook her hand with fear, shock, and sheer disgust. She watched the water bucket slosh and another hand tried to get out. She grabbed the amputated hand and threw it down the well with fear and looked at the bucket that shook as the fingers gribbed the side of the bucket. She reached over and unhooked the crank and watched the bucket soar down back into the deep cold water below.

Poppy screamed, feeling like hands were all over her body, she turned and ran back into the house and headed to the kitchen, it always seeming to offer her comfort. She grabbed the phone and redialed the doctors number. This was not a side effect.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley had been sitting at his computer again for about twenty minutes after he hung up with Poppy when he heard his phone vibrating against the glass table in his living room. He looked up, and then leaning back to see the phone moving around on the table as it rang. He sighed, getting up out of his chair and moving to the doorway. He waited a moment to see if the person would give up, but when his phone vibrated off the table, he went over to it. He picked it up and sat down on the chair. He glanced down.

"What?" he asked the phone as he saw Poppy Hawthorne's name scrolling across his screen. He sighed, flipping the phone open and resting it between his shoulder and his ear. He got up off the couch to go into the kitchen and make himself some tea.

"Hello, Doctor Paige," he said, but he didn't wait. "Miss Hawthorne?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"You will not believe me when I tell you I just went outside to the well to get water and saw hands. Decapitated, amputated, armless, bodyless hands! I am not imagining this, okay? I know...I know what you think!" Poppy paced, shaking uncontrollably from the cold and from the fright. Her arm still cold and still soaked from the tight grip the hand had. What the hell was happening to her? One moment she was happy, sane, the next going absoultely nuts!

"I don't know what the hell is going on, but I knew it was too good to be true! Pills that only seem to make me vulnerable! Wesley, I am not going to take those things. I know, for a fact, that this is real! That was real!" Poppy kept looking over to the well, fearing what she might see and sure enough seh saw them.

"Oh god!" She screamed, tears coming to her eyes as if this were some sort of intruder! She ran to the window and locked them, well they were alreadty locked but she didn't trust anything anymore. "They are there! They are....trying to get out of the well! What am I gonna do? What?" She was almost to the point of hysterics, then agian who wouldn't be when one wanted water and got hands instead?

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley heard her begin to cry, could hear her running around, in a panic. He didn't know what else to do. He sighed and grabbed his coat, heading out into his apartment hallway.

"Look, Poppy, just hang tight for ten minutes, I'm coming out there," to drive away the boogeyman, he couldn't help but think. But if these strong pills that had gotten her a good night's sleep weren't helping, he didn't know anything else but to go to the source--the house--and see what might be causing these hallucinations. "Stay on the line with me, alright?" he asked. He was calm, wasn't freaking out, but he could hear that she was.

"Do you see anything else?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy did as he had instructed, they stayed on the phone, she telling him everything that was happening. So far that had been loitering around the well, sometimes disappearing into the well, only to show themselves agian. She hated how incredibly ridiculous this sounded, but they were hands that were crwaling out of a well, without anything attached that normally should be. Plus, where did they come from? Last time she remembered her brother hadn't chopped anyone up into little bitty pieces and threw them in wells.

She paced, keeping an eye on the well, keeping Wesley updated until she heard his car pulll up into her driveway. SHe hung up and ran to the front door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find the man slowly getting out of his car, cigarette barely hanging onto his lip. Damn, he was her savior at the moment.

"This way! I swear to you! I am not crazy!" She pointed at the house, well really around the house to where the well was. Her heart was going so fast and she was so scared, hands that had no body didn't move, that wasn't humanly possible. She pushed back a strand of her hair, watching him shut his door and walk to her like this was no big deal. She sniffed the tears away and shook her head.

"I am not crazy, Wesley, I am not."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley kept his words to himself as he followed the hysteric woman around the house, his cigarette burning and smoke blowing back on his face, keeping it warm. The white cancer was hanging limpy from his lips as he followed her. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and shivered a little in his brow sweater. HE was waiting to see something awful, considering she was making this such a big deal, he figured there had to have been at least something explainable to have set her off.

But as they came around the house, all he saw was a well, open, the lid of it laying against it like it had been pushed off and forgotten. He walked closer to it, following her, but stopped short. He reached up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth, and sighing smoke out before he dropped it, and stepped on it, the sound of his foot crunching against frozen grass the only he could hear besides her breathing.

"This is the haunted well, I'm assuming?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy stopped dead in her tracks, no pun intended, shocked beyond belief as to what she saw, she glanced over at Wesley to see the apathetic look on his face, almost to where he was bordering annoyed. She shook her head and walked over to the well, suddenly wishing they were there, goign to grab her, toss her down there, something to let him see!

"No, come on!" She looked around, kicked dead leaves, grass, even the lid that crumbled at the pressure of her foot. "That is not fair!" She looked over at Wesley smoking his cigarette, giving her a look that was more than condescending. She walked to him and pointed at the well.

"I am serious! You think I would make such a story up! Do you?" She raised her eyebrows. "My shirt is wet!" She pushed back her coat sleeve to show him the soaked shirt sleeve, but it was clean, dry, almost like nothing had ever touched it. She shook her head, and let out a cry of despair. "It was wet! Damn it! I swear I saw hands!" She looked at Wesley.

"This house...it knows you...it wants you to think I am crazy! I am not! I swear! This isn't pills, this isn't...suicide! This house is haunted! Why can't you see that!?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley licked his lips and set his jaw. He watched her fall apart in front of him. He shook his head and walked resolutely over to the well. He grabbed the rope and jerked it hard, looking at Poppy harshly.

"No, Poppy, this house is just a house!" he exclaimed, but she continued to yell, saying no, it knew him, it wanted him to think she was crazy. And for some reason, he just snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and with all his might shook her back and forth, squeezing her arms so tightly, and shaking her so hard, it was a wonder he didn't break something.

"Shut up!" he yelled, shaking her and then stopping suddenly to look her square in the face. "This house is just a house! This house doesn't know people! It doesn't want me to think you're crazy! You're personifying this house and it cannot see, it can't judge, it can't make people think things! Only other people can do that, Poppy!" he exclaimed. "And you're making it really easy for me to believe that you need to be committed!"

He unhanded her as quickly as he had grabbed her, realizing how over the line he had stepped it. He put a hand on his hip, and the other on his neck. He waved a hand at her and walked past her, shaking his head.

"I want to help you, Poppy, but you don't want to help yourself," he said and he made his way back towards the front of the house. "When you're ready for real treatment, you have my number."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was shocked from the moment he stepped onto her property, when he grabbed her and shook her like a rag doll, then point blank let her know what he really thought of her. As she stood there feeling the cold air freeze her tears she watched him storm away to his car, telling her to call when she was good and ready to be put in a psych ward, then into his car and drove away. She didn't know what to say, how to react except stand there in shock that this had actually happened. He had almost shook her so hard she could have lost her footing and fell, but she didn't.

She sniffed and felt colder than she ever had before, lonelier than she had before. Maybe she was going crazy, maybe...


"I'm not." She whined to herself as she hugged herbody, her arms hurting so bad from where he grabbed her. She could see that any help he had to offer was gone. Mere hallucinations were no longer worthy of calling him about. "I have to show you</I>!"
</I." p the into ran and wind against turned just she surrounding, forest dead in lurking find might what of fearful around looked name, her whispering heard shivered She away. mile a about distance, off far car at looekd house.<>
How could she show him? Make him see? She was determined to prove to him that there wasn't something wrong with her! There wasn't! She paced teh lobby, hearing things that were not there, her name being whispered, doors being closed and opened, footsteps, laughter. It was like this hous was taunting her! She wanted to scream back, but hse knew at t hat point she would be crazy.

Poppy suddenly had a thought.

She turned and ran up the stairs, ignoring the feeling of being watched by someone, ignoring every bad feeling she had. She knew that if there was one room there were others. She opened her brother's bedroom door and looked into it like she were on a mission, which she was. She found the sledgehammer still on the floor, not being touched since she crashed into the closet. She picked up the heavy item and walked to the hall, the bedroom door slamming behind her as she walked out.

She looked right, then left, then right again hearing nosies, moans, sounds that were indescribable. She ignored them and picked a room. She pushed the door open, listening to the hinges creak. She felt like this room was definitely a good place to start. She walked over the the curtains on the wall and pulled them down. She stepped back and with all her might swung the sledgehammer into the wall, watching the drywall cave in, again and again she hit, the wallpaper tearing, Particles falling to the floor. She wouldn't stop swinging until there was a hole big enough for her to step through.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley drove all the way home with his hand against his mouth, his teeth biting into his knuckles so hard, he thought he might draw blood. He couldn't believe he had done that to her, but it was high time she see that she was seeing things, that there was nothing there, nothing coming after her, nothing out to get her.

Wes had thought he could help her, get her to see it, but he had realized that she was beyond help if she didn't want help herself. If she was going to continue convincing herself that all of this was real, then there was nothing he could do for her. Not until she really wanted help. Actual, tangible help.

And he wasn't sure if she ever would.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"Come on you bastard! Come on!" She screamed, angrily so, at the wall as she pulled on a piece of the wall, wanting the stupid thing to come down more than the berlin wall. She had been putting so much time and energy into knocking this wall down she was hoping it better be good to see what was behind it.

Fifteen minutes of sheer banging got tiring, quickly, her gumption had run out and all that had happened tampered off, but she wasn't about to give up so quickly. She wanted to at least see for herself if there was something else behind that wall, something like those stairs, if she saw nothing but an old messy room, she would call Wesley and tell him that she was admitting herself to the hospital.

"COME ON!" She screamed loudly and suddenly she fell back onto the ground, piece of wall on her stomach. She coughed for a moment, the small pieces of glue from the wallpaper getting into her mouth. She coughed and gagged as she sat up and brushed herself off. She felt a blast of cool air hit her arms and she slowly looked up. She saw an orb of light spilling onto the floor from the real windows. She sat up on her knees and slowly moved around the pieces of debris on the floor.

Poppy frowned as she slowly stepped through the hole in the wall, looking around to see nothing but shadows and obscurities. It smelled bad in the room, like dead mice or animals that she had yet to come across, she put a hand over her mouth and she ducked, afraid something might fall on her, wandering over to the window and pushing it open, allowing the light to flood the room. She waved her hands around to free the air of dust on the curtains, she slowly turned around to see nothing but a very large room with nothing but a small house in the middle.

"What the..." She frowned, walking away from the window and over to what looked like a dollhouse. She frowned and looked around at it, unsure of whether or not this was a little girls or what. She saw it opened up and she pushed it open, hearing it slide across the old dusty floors. She coughed at the dust that became unsettled and she was mesmerized at the sight. She saw a bedroom, miniature in size.

"This is sick." She voiced to herself, looking at it, studying it. It was her house. Her brother's house. Their house. She looked around at the different rooms, shocked at how incredibly accurate it now was. Like someone had just finsihed creating it. She was almost too scared to be scared, but she saw the dance hall, with her brother hanging from the small chandelier. Tears filled her eyes and she stepped back.

Poppy was so scared she didn't know what to do, so she continued looking, hearing a small high pitched tune being played, like a jewelry box. She saw it was coming from the room she was in. She found where she was at in the doll house and pushed open the door, sitting in a large rocker, an empty room, was a clown. She screamed when the rocker began to move, as if the clown itself were rocking. She stood up and watched it's head turn to look at her, it's evil smile. She hated clowns. She jumped when she heard a cackle, then she realized what was wrong with this scenario. Slowly, she turned ot see a rocking chair, old, dusty, falling apart, with a very large and lifelike clown rocking back and forth.

When it began to turn its head to look she turned out of the room and into the hall.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley was typing the letter J on his computer. He now had a page of just J's as he sat there, with his chin in one hand, the other typing the letter. He was staring out the window, his mind so preoccupied with Poppy he knew he would never get anything done the rest of the night. It was seven and was already getting dark. He was tired, but didn't want to go to bed; annoyed, but didn't know how to relieve it. He was bothered by the fact that he had left Poppy out there on her own. It was like he felt like that house might eat her.

"Get a grip," he muttered, snapping his lap top shut and standing up to change into exercise pants, and strip his shirt and socks off. He crawled under the blankets on his bed and flipped the TV, flipping through the channels, finally landing on something about haunted housed. Just what he needed, something else to make him feel guilty.

He laid around and watched TV for a long time, before he finally drifted to sleep sometime around eleven thirty.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy had avoided the room, but kept hearing the whispers and cooing it did, the soft tingly music that begged for her to go insane. She was working on another wall, she needed something to keep her mind preoccupied, so she had found another room that struck her fancy. She was hammering the wall for what felt like hours, but she couldn't help but continue, she needed something more concrete, something that she could hold, something that she could show Wesley.

Poppy was swetting and begging for the cold, but she continued to hammer the wall, she didn't know what time it was, but just that it was dark and that her arms were like jelly. So when the last piece of the wall came falling to the covered ground, she grabbed her flashlight and walked on in as if thsi were normal to be knocking down walls to find other rooms. This was like a mad house and she was the poor woman going mad.

Poppy coughed at the stench, again it smelled like something died, raw meat almost. She sighed as she found the switch and clicked it on. She looked up and screamed, almost dropping the camera. She saw a flash of light, she slowly lifted it up and saw it was just mirrors. She sighed out with relief, mirrors weren't bad. She wandered around, trying to find something, but all she found were pieces of mirrors on the floor. She wandered around and found the window. She was burning alive, she needed some air.

Poppy found the pale pink curtains that had faded with time and were covered in dust. She pulled them back and suddenly, stopped from opening the window, simply because there wasn't one. She was shocked at what she saw, so shocked she wasn't even sure how to handle this situation. But luckily she did, she had what she needed. She grabbed a picture on the wall and ignored the fear in her stomach, the tears that were needing to be wept.

Poppy crawled out of the room and out into the hall. She saw something in the corner of her eye and saw a brightly colored leg go into a room. She knew what it was, but refused to acknowledge that it was the clown from the rocker, it wasn't that big, it was a doll, it was just...nothing.

She bit her lower lip and jogged down the stairs and into the closet, ignoring the feeling she got when she looked inside, like something was waiting to jump out at her. She grabbed her coat and other essentials and ran out the front door, picture in her pocket. She was ready to prove the Wesley that this was not a joke, that this wasn't her being nuts, this was something much greater. Much, much greater. She was going to prove it.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley jolted awake to the sound of furious knocking on his door. He stared at his open window for a long moment, the snow flurries obvious outside. His eyes were heavy, he ached to go back to sleep, but that knocking wasn't quitting. He groaned heavily, and turned over grabbing his cellphone off the his nightstand and flipping it open. His eyes widened.

"What the hell..." he muttered, tossing his phone onto the bed like it had done the knocking. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, annoyed already at the person knocking, even though he didn't know who it was. If it wasn't his best friend, it was probably going to be his brother, and if it wasn't his brother, then he would murder whoever was standing outside that door, because they hadn't any reason to wake him up so early.

"Just a minute!" he hollered, as he stood up and stretched. He didn't bother putting on a shirt, whatever eyeful they got, they deserved. Wes moved slowly into the livingroom, his low-slung exercise pants shuffling along the ground as he made his way to the door. He didn't bother looking through the peephole, he was too tired.

But when he opened the door, he wished he had.

Wesley's mouth dropped open as he saw Poppy Hawthorne standing in front of him, a set look on her face. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were three possible explanations for this: A) she had finally come up with something clever to say back to him from earlier that day; B) she was here to rant a little more about ghosts in her house; or C) she was about to tell him that she was ready to go to a proper institution where they could help her sort things out.

Let's just say, Wesley didn't expect to hear A or C.

"It's two o'clock in the damn morning, Poppy..." he grumbled darkly. "What do you want?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy stood outside, freezing, wishing she hadn't come, wishing she was back in the comfort of her home, although that wasn't comfortable at all when she thought about it. She hugged herself as she banged on the door of Wesley Paige's house, wanting to know how come it took him so long to get to the door. She sighed out, watching her breath condense into the air in a white fog, damn it was cold.

The door flew open and she almost forgot her task when she witnessed the bare skin being flashed in front of her, Poppy glanced at it for a moment, then looked up to see his face already annoyed. He growled his questions, and for a moment it was kinda sexy, his deep voice that sounded of sleep tickling her spine more than the voices she heard. Poppy reached into her pocket and pulled out the old photograph, glancing at it just to make sure that this was still the same as she had remember, thankfully it was. She held it in front of his face by extending her arm.

"Look at this. I want you to take a good hard look at what you see. I want you to see it and memorize in a way that if you were to ever seen an old photograph, this will pop into your brain." She lowered it barely and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Since yoy left, I've been knocking down a bitch of a wall to get to the other side to see, to make you see that there was something else in that house, not in my head." She held the picture up again. "This person has no eyes, no eyes! There is a whole wall full of these pictures in my house. Not only that but living, breathing, toy clowns." She closed her mouth for a moment and shrugged, waiting for him to tell her it was late, that it was her imagination, that she was nuts, but she didn't want to hear it, nor allow him enough time to even state the obvious.

"You are staying with me, in that house, in my house, to experience the hell I am being put through! Don't tell me it isn't real while you get good nights sleep, live in a home that feels safe, not untell you see what I have to live through." She was determined, if he said no, she'd come back tomorrow with something else, every night until he finally agreed, that or until she was thrown in jail for harassment.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley stared at the picture for a long moment. Captain Obvious had stated what he could already see: the person had no eyes. Instead, tiny bits of mirror had replaced their eyes. In fact, if he looked hard enough, he could just barely see the reflection of the photographer in the bits of mirror. He reached up and slowly took the picture from Poppy, peering down at it in amazement.

Okay, so he had to admit, this was a tad weird. He glanced up skeptically when she mentioned breathing clown dolls, but his mind went back to the newspaper clipping that had been left in his notebook. A boy had been strangled with a long armed clown doll. Something about that niggled at his brain, tickled at his spine, made him swallow and glance over his shoulder lightly.

After a long moment, he reached up and scratched his head. He dropped his hand and looked at Poppy.

"If I stay there with you, and I sleep in that house with you, will you please leave the ghost stories be?" he asked desperately, turning to grab his black wife beater off the back of the couch.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy suddenly let out a sigh of relief, for a moment she was ready to just give in and pray to God for Thankfulness of his decision to come stay and to see if she was nuts or if she wasn't. But she wasn't going to show defeat to the man, yet. She smiled at him as she shivered, suddenly she felt scared to be standing there at his door without protection, but she knew that was just silly fear, fear of someone being behind you. Luckily, he was within feet.

"Trust me," She said, her breath condesing worse than a few seconds before, it was getting colder by the minute soon the roads would be bad. "After you spend a few days at my house, honey you'll be telling me ghost stories." She smiled, happy that this was going so well. She swayed back and forth, wishing the man would hurry, but didn't push any matter, he said he'd go so she wasn't wanting to push her luck more than she had.

"Get some clothes. It likes to get unbelievably cold in the house."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley agreed, going to his bedroom and grabbing his satchel from his cloest. He packed three outfits--he didn't intend to stay anymore than a couple days--and then he put in hygeine things, followed by his lap top, and the research he had printed out about the house. He stuffed it all into his satchel, and then he pulled on a pair of bootcut jeans, and a big sweater, followed by a hoodie with the name of his college.

He went back to the door, and held onto the doorframe to pull on his boots. He grabbed his cell and shoved it into his pocket before getting his keys and shutting the door behind him and locking it. He sighed and watched his breath condense in front of him. He nodded, glancing over to see her car parked by his. He nodded again.

"I'll follow you."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"Great." Poppy smiled, walking back to her car, happy to see it still felt warm and comfy inside. She locked her door and turned on her car, watching Wesley wander in front of her car lights to his own car. She watched him as she felt the hot air hit her face, she prayed that something would happen to him while she was there, anything to make him see for himself that she was not hallucinating and that this house was as creepy as the picture she showed him. Everything she had told him so far didn't do any of what she experienced justice, that house was just as evil as it could be, and she was damned to prove it to someone, especially a skeptic such as the good doctor.

She slowly back out of his driveway and quickly headed towards her house, making sure that he was still in her rear view mirror. The drive at night was almost just as creepy, dead tree's hovering like a canopy, the suddenly dirt driveway, complete darkness considering it was slightly out in the boondocks, the only thing one could see was with their headlights and she was half expecting to see something jump out at her car from the forest that lined the driveway, but luckily she was keeping her thoughts pure and happy, butterflies and rainbows so-to-speak. She sighed out, suddenly tired, the day's hard work catching up to her, her arms burning and her eyes craving to be shut.

She felt the dirt driveway under her car and she was glad, for the first time, to be home, with a guest, with a man, who was built pretty nicely, who could probably kick some butt if need be. Poppy smirked. He'd probably not the be man to protect the woman, he'd probably run off in the wilderness crying like a little girl. She laughed lightly as she threw her car into park, turning off her lights and looking out her window to see him pull up next to her in his own car. She unlocked the door and stepped out into the freezing night air.

"Home sweet home." She said sarcastically. She looked up at the house, it was even creepier in the dark, the only thing throwing light on the plantation was the light from the boat house and a flood light off in the distance. Plus, it was easy to see that every light in the house was on.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley got out of his car. The house didn't give him a creepy feeling, it was just a big house. He sighed and got his things out of the back of the car. He glanced over at Poppy and smiled at her comment, following her to the porch and into the house. Compared to the outside, it was warm inside the house, but it wasn't toasty by any stretch of the imagination. But it was bright, cheery, quiet. He glanced up to not the second floor seemed an odd shape compared to the first floor, but he didn't take too much mind of it.

He glanced around at the entrace hall and stretched comfortably. He looked over at Poppy, and smiled.

"Anywhere I can put my bag? Hang my coat maybe?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy watched him, he was cute and given had they met under different circumstances, she might had hit on him. She smiled as she locked the door and all five locks, then tossing her keys on a small table to the immediate right.

"Bag can go wherever, coat, goes here." She pointed at the stairs and to the small closet underneath it as she shed her lengthy coat, looking over at him and she opened the creaky door and waited.

"You can sleep wherever you'd like, but I prefer you stay on the second floor, it has the best...<i>view</i>." She smiled. "Can I make you something to drink?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled and put his coat up, hoisting his satchel over his head and across his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. He glanced back at her as he began up to find a room to stay in. He smiled.

"Tea, or coffee if you have either," he said, continuing up the stairs until he got to the second floor. He noted that the open hall was lined with bedrooms, and one bathroom. He went through, glancing through them. He saw one room with a hole knocked in the wall, but he didn't care to investigate. He chose a room that was close to the stairs and he went inside. The room was bare, except for one bed, on closet, and one chest of drawers. Minus any windows. He furrowed his brow up at the naked light bulb. Blegh, this room gave him the chillies.

Wes tossed his bag on the bed and went back out into the hall.

SLAM! Wesley jumped and turned around to peer down the hall. A door had slammed shut on the other side of the hall. He let out a sigh as he shook his head and went back down the stairs. He hadn't been there ten minutes, and her stories had alreayd put him on edge. Sure, he didn't believe the place was haunted, but anybody would be uncomfortable in such a big place.

He went back downstairs and into the kitchen, grabbing out his cigarettes and glancing over at Poppy.

"Is it okay I smoke in here?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy smiled as she wandered to the kitchen.

"Tea it shall be." She said with a sigh, answering the question she posed to him, how she hated making decisions like that. But she dealt with it, if he didn't like it, too bad, he didn't speak up. She sighed as she grabbed her tea pot and walked to the sink. She reached for the handle and stopped.

"Sheet." She said with a scared sigh. The pipes were frozen, last she recalled, and she didn't feel like giving him fingers to drink. She prayed as she grabbed the steel faucet handle and pushed up, watching water pour. She sighed with relief and filled up the pot and wandered to the gas stove and set it on the burner. Within then minutes it was piping hot and she was hearing doors slam.

Poppy frowned. Was that Wesley? She held her breath for a moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to come running into the kitchen screaming, but when he sauntered in asking her if he could smoke she jumped, almost burning herself on the water she was pouring into two glasses. She looked up to find him wakling in and taking a seat at the rectangular island in the room. She smiled, this was nice, company.

"Go for it." She said as she sat the teapot down and grabbed tea bags and dumped them both into the scolding hot water. She grabbed the small bowl on the counter and prongs. "Oh, do you like sugar?" She slit her eyes at him. "I love sugar cubes, so..." She shrugged a shoulder at him.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled, lighting up a cigarette and sitting down at the island. He nodded to the sugar cubes, reaching down and plopping in two into his own cup as she scooted it over to him. He puffed happily on his cigarette as he peered at the window.

"So far, so good, Poppy," he said, glancing over at her as she sat down next to him. He shook his head. "The last time I was in this place, it was when my friend was buying it about seven years ago..." he paused, shaking his head. "I stopped by when Alexandre bought it, so I could help my friend get his stuff." He shook his head again and smiled.

"Alexandre really did do a good thing to this place, Poppy. It's beautiful in here."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy stirred her tea as she looked up at him, leaning on the island with her left hand while nonchalantly playing with her spoon in her tea. He was attractive when he smoked, then again she had this thing with attractive men who pufefd on cancer sticks. made them look dangerous, sexy, smoking hot. She grinned as she looked around, giving it a thought as she recalled how it looked when he sent her before and after pictures.

"Yeah," She said with a sigh. "It was pretty bad before he got in here." She looked down at him and smiled, taking the spoon out and pulling it up to her lips, taking a sip. "Why did your friend leave?" She asked out of curiosity, hoping he'd say he heard things, saw them, something that was remotely close to her story.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed, taking the cancer stick out of his mouth and glanced around. He gave a slight shrug.

"All he said was that it wasn't working out," Wesley said, looking over at her. "He told me he didn't need such a big place..." he explained. And he was telling the truth. His friend hadn't said anything about hearing or seeing things. He had talked about not liking the way the upstairs was cut off, but Wesley had never been up there when he had come to visit.

Wesley took a deep breath of his cigarette and then sighed it out. He picked up his tea cup and tipped it up, taking a long drink. As he took a drink, he felt something bump his lip. His brow furrowed and tipped the cup back a litte from his lips, looking down into the dark liquid.

"What that--!" he cried, flinging the cup away from his face, and pushing himself away from the table. His chair squealed on the tile and fell back as he wiped his mouth furiously and went over to the sink, turning on the water and washing out his mouth. Either he was very tired, or there were two, bloody eyeballs floating in his tea, with veins, blood leaking out into the dark liquid.

Wesley turned around to where the cup was laying on the table, idle, the tea splashed all over where he had flung it away from he and Poppy. All he saw was the remains of the sugar cubes, two lumps laying on the table. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"What the hell..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was fine, listening intently, enjoying the small chit chat, until he threw tea all over her kitchen. She frowned, almost shocked that he had done such a thing. She watched him rush to the sink and wash out his mouth as if he had taken a drink of something vile. She sat down her cup and looked at him, hoping he was okay! She glanced at the tea on the counter, then the two sugar cubes. Her mind suddenly put it together.

"See something, Wesley?" She raised an eyebrow, not wanting to go ahead and gloat just yet. She walked over to the counter adn grabbed some paper towels and wipe up the mess he created. "Happened to me, that day I was making tea, one second it was there, the next...poof! Gone." She sighed out, grabbing the two cubes and tossing them into the trash, followed by the wet towel. She looked up at Wesley, finding him still standing there looking at the teacup as if it were talking to him.

"Tired?" She said to him, wondering if he was going to use that excuse. She'd allow it, but it only went so far to explain what she saw and heard. "Perhaps, we can finish our conversation tomorrow? Hmm?" She touched his shoulder and smiled. Yes, so far, so good.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed, putting his cigarette out in the sink and shaking his head. He didn't know what the hell that was, but all of a sudden, he didn't want to go back up to that drafty room. He shook his head and laughed a little.

"Sorry about that," he said. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I better head back to bed, I'm beat over..." he muttered.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy smiled, she wanted to make sure he was okay, the look on his face would have made anyone worry, she nodded at him. "Yeah," She said looking at the wall clock. "It's only 3:30 in the morning!" She smiled and put her tea cup in the sink and pointed to the hall leading into the lobby.

"I will see you tomorrow. We can talk more about this house, what happens tonight, the usual." She smiled as she walked to the doorway and turned off the light, watching him walk into the light from the hallway. "I'm sleeping upstairs tonight in my brother's room. If you need me, I am in the room two over from the stairs." She smiled turning and walking into the lobby, wondering what was going to happen, she'd be disappointed if nothing did happen to him tonight. She'd take anything, something to really get him going.

"Sleep tight." She said as she looked over her shoulder. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

[Wesley Paige]

Good, she was only two rooms over from him. He followed her up the stairs and bid her goodnight as he went into his room. He stripped off his shirt and socks, and laid out the sheets, pillow, and blanket she supplied for him. He flipped the lights off and went over to the bed after closing the door. He slid underneath and put his iPod earbuds into his head. He would rather listen to music while he slept than any sound the house might make.

Luckily, he fell asleep quickly to the soft sounds of the Memoirs of a Geisha soundtrack. And he slept peacefully until about five o'clock when the sound of a door slamming outside woke him up. He groaned a little, pulling his ear buds out, noting that the music wasn't playing, and the album must have ended. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time before he heard a soft knock at his door. He looked over.

"Poppy?" he whispered. He got up and crept over, pulling the door open and peering into the hallway. But he saw no one. He leaned out the door and looked down the hall to where Poppy's room was. The door was shut, and nothing in the house seemed disturbed. He glanced down the stairs to the dark lobby, but saw nothing. Then he looked across the hall, and his brow furrowed. The bedroom directly across from him was open, and the light was on. He didn't see anyone in there, but he didn't feel the desire to investigate.

He watched the room for a long time, waiting to see if Poppy was in there, and moved around. He could see a shadow moving around, and he figured it must be Poppy. However, when he saw a multicolored leg--that resembled a clown's leg too closely--move into view in the doorway, Wesley decided to go make sure Poppy was in her room--and give himself some company because he was a little freaked out.

Keeping and eye on that clown leg, he went to Poppy's door and knocked. He glanced over, and surely enough, the clown was at the door, half of it's body was showing around the doorframe, its painted, and grinning face staring at him with a bloodthirsty kind of look. Wesley nodded and waved, smiling at it and turning back to Poppy's door, feeling a little sweat bead on his neck. He knocked a little harder.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy moaned, she was having a great dream, a dream about a beach that was completely deserted, except the sexy back of a man who waded in the water. She heard him say her name and when he turned the sexy back had a face of a clown.

"Oh god!" She opened her eyes, heart racing, her name being said. She frowned, what the hell? Who was at her door? Calling for her? For a moment she was completely confused as to who might be knocking. "Sure as hell ain't the raven, Poppy." She said to herself as she moved the covers off her body, ready to get out of bed, but she realized she now had to deal with objects under her bed...what could grab her by the ankles and bring her down. She shivered and heard the banging getting louder. She stood up, more like jumped, and grabbed the sledgehammer leaning against the wall. She slowly grabbed the handle and pushed it open, ready to smash in the clown's skull if it was him. Thankfully it wasn't.

"Wesley!" She said with a sigh, grabbing his arm, but not having to pull cause he was in her room in a heartbeat, door slammed shut. She saw that his brow was sweaty and she tilted her head. "What is wrong?" She had thought something awful happened and she was genuinely worried, but curisoity got the best she grabbed the doorhandle to pull it open, but Wesley grabbing her wrist let her know that something was out there.

"What happened?" She asked, turning on the small paper latern on the side table. Her brother loving fashionable things, his room would have been wonderful had he ever finished it. She set the sledgehammer down as she sat on the bed, looking at him standing there, barracading the door. "You...okay?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed as he finally leaned on the door, feeling safer in numbers. He watched Poppy for a long moment, listening to the hallway outside their door, and he could distinctly hear the clown moving past their door. He gave Poppy a smile.

"I volunteered to come check up on you," he said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "It was between me and the clown you have living in the room across the way..." he muttered. He was beginnaing to sound like her, but Wesley's mind had never changed so fast about a place. If this place wasn't of the devil, he didn't know what was. Clowns running around the place? He friggin' hated clowns, in any shape or form. And the eyeballs in the tea? Yeah, not for him. He smiled a little.

"All's well in here, then?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy frowned, was he nuts? Whoa, she suddenly sounded like him! How awkwards was that? She looked at the ground and breathed in and jumped up and grabbed his arm and jerked him away from the door, white gloved fingers grabbing the bottom of the door. She had never hugged someone so tight in all her life up until that point when she was actually standing in a room, no windows to escape, a hole in the closet which thankfully was covered by the doors, and another human being witnessing what she was seeing.

"Do you...see?" She asked barely above a whisper, her hands wrapped so tightly around Wesley that she was sure was was blocking his oxygen, but for some reason without having him here she was scared to death but was fierce and ready to take them on, except now that she had someone else telling her they saw it...it made it real, like it wasn't any longer in the realm of it being make-believe.

"Do you? Please, tell me you do!" She bit her lower lip, watching the hands grip the door and begin to shake it, like it was wanting it, but it was taunting almost. Where the hell did it come from? How did it go from a medium sized doll to now what looked like a human sized hand?

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's jaw was open as he watched the white hand shake the door like it was wanting their souls. Poppy was holding onto him tightly, but he wasn't whining, he was holding her to both keep her away from the door, and to give himself comfort. He shook his head.

"I, um, I'm not quite that blind..." he muttered, watching the hand move and squirm until there were two gloved hands, shaking the door as hard as seemed possible. He swallowed hard. "It's gonna bring the door down..." he said, watching the hands move to find better positions. He glanced down at Poppy.

"That thing do this often?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy jumped back, with Wesley of course, when the door shook and slammed against the framing. She was in agreement with him, he was gonna bring it down if it was the last thing he did, she did...it did. She looked up at him, smelling the cigarette's on his breath.

"No. Must be after you. Must not play my team." She let out a laugh of fear, she always finding laughter a great comfort. "Get the sledgehammer. I am gonna open the door you WHACK it good!" She nodded. Hopefully, he'd be as willing to go along with it? "I mean...it's only in our heads, right?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley looked at her and grabbed the sledgehammer, shaking his head a little. He peered at her as she went to the door.

"Now wouldn't be the time to discuss my previous views...which have recently changed a little..." he said, resting the sledgehammer on his shoulder. He didn't care whether it was in their head or not, it was real enough for him to be a little uneasy, and that was pretty real, considering he didn't get worked up about much.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy swallowed, fear having embedded itself so deep in her stomach that her entire body felt it and she shaked with what she might find once opening the door. She walked over to it and didn't even bother to count down, she grabbed the handle, turned it, and pulled the door open so fast that if there was a clown it'd come falling head first into the room.

She watched Wesley swing like it was God's given talent, but to her shock, he was swinging blindly at air.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's swing hit nothing but air, and the hammer came to a stop across his back. He dropped the head of the hammer to the floor and peered out into the hallway. The light was off in the room across the hall, and the door was closed, like nothing had happened. Wesley hung his head cautiously out the door, but there was nothing but a dark hallway and a bunch of doors. He turned around and looked at Poppy, smiling a little.

"Isn't that pretty cliche?" he asked. "The big clown doll disappears before you can smash in its face, only to return later on to smack you and tell you what a jackass you were?" he asked, referring to every bad horror movie he'd seen. Yet, somehow, watching the bad horror movie, and being in the bad horror movie were two different things. Considering his heart was going about a mile a minute in his chest.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy let out the breath she was holding, looking at Wesley stand there, the pair were like a bunch of lunatics, thinking they see hands under the door, clowns, then to have it thrown back in theoir face that there was nothign there...this was something she wasn't very fond of having happen to her almost every night. At least now she knew Wes believed her. Right?

"I wouldn't...count my chickens...before they hatched." She panted to him, trying to calm down, trying to realize there was nothing, as there always was. "It could be out there, in a room, <i>your</i> room." She shivered, then looked under her bed. When she saw nothing but dust bunnies she sighed out with relief. She glanced over at Wesley and rubbed her forehead that was sweaty, if this kept going like it was she might die before she turned thirty.

"Need a cigarette?" She said with a smile, "I don't smoke, but I sure as hell would be toking away after that."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled, and nodded, but they would have to venture out and back to his room. He nodded out to the hall and beckoned her follow. Like hell he was going out after that alone. They made their way to his room and he went inside, fishing his cigs out from the pocket of his jeans, and grabbing his lighter. He stuck one in his lips and lit it, offering the pack to her.

"No finer time to start than when your house wants to eat you, right?" he asked, puffing happily.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy followed, like hell she was being left alone! She stayed close, exteremly close, like there was an imaginary cord that kept them within a certain amount of space of each other. She sighed out when she went into his room, watching his back flex as he grabbed the cigarettes out of his pants pocket, lighitng one up then giving her the pack. She never had one, well she had but it was ages ago, she wondered if she'd die if she had a puff.

"I don't know what the hell it wants." She put one in her lips and lit it up, actually inhaling it like she were a pro. It tasted good, kinda stung, but she figured she'd get used to it sooner or later. She blew out the smoke and waved it out of her face. She jumped when she heard a door slam against the wall, she didn't want to look, but she was the closest to the door and after his heroing acts of manliness with the sledgehammer, it was her turn. She peered out and almost dropped her cigarette.

"Wesley..come...come here and tell me if I am seeing right." She hoped she was being stupid, but she knew that if he experienced what just happened with her, then he'd be more than sure to see this. "I mean, just a second opinion, but are all the doors open?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed out some smoke and walked to the door, leaning on the frame to look out into the hallway, and, lo and behold, every door on the second floor were wide open. He watched them for a long moment, nodding serenely. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke away from him.

"Yep. That would be all the doors being open..." he muttered, glancing out the door and down the stairs. He didn't see anything down there, but one couldn't be too careful. He sighed and shook his head. This was getting ridiculous. He looked over and down at Poppy.

"I guess the house likes me now. It's ready to introduce itself..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy looked around then up to his face, again the closeness, she drew a long breath and let it out in one heave before taking a puff off of her cigarette then blowing out the smoke, this was good to have, it actually did calm her down quite a bit.

"I think this is one introduction we might want to skip, don't you say?" She looked around and heard a door slam. She frowned and looked to the right, seeing the door. Suddenly, it was like a domino effect, all the doors began to slam, the last door that was to be shut, the one they stood in the way of.

"What the hell." She yelled, there wasn't anyone pushing them closed, there wasn't any sound of footsteps, nothing but darkness in all the rooms. As they slammed shut the wall sconces flickered on and off, as if the slamming was hurting the internal wiring. She smelled something burning and she looked up at the sconce on the wall to her left, it was sizzling and suddenly it burst. She screamed as the glass flew everywhere, and suddenly all the sconces began to sizzle and break as the doors continued to slam shut.

[Wesley Paige]

"Damn..."

Wesley tossed his cigarette on the floor and stood on it, grabbing Poppy, and his overnight bag and got out into the hallway. He covered Poppy's head as the doors slammed and the sconces burst. He kept the glass from getting on her. He much rather preferred that the door slam shut and they be out where they could get out of the house, rather than shut in the room, and risk something happening in there, where there was nowhere to run.

For a long moment after the final sconce shattered and the door shut, Wesley didn't let go of Poppy, making sure that nothing further was going to explode in their faces. Finally, he leaned back, some glass shards sliding off of his shoulders and tinkling onto the floor. He glanced around the hall to see all the shattered sconces. He sighed out heavily, and looked down. He reached up and brushed a shard out of Poppy's hair. He lifted her chin a little.

"Are you alright?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy didn't know what to think about that one, normally it had been thing she could brush off, but this had crossed the line. This was now boreder dangerous. She sighed out and shook for the hell of it, she looked up and around the hall seeing the mess.

"Yeah, yeah." She said lowly, looking over at him and raised her eyebrows. "Are-are you?" She frowned and surveyed his face and everyhting on his body to make sure he wasn't harmed in any way, she didn't need him leaving her house and suing her for something, it would be her luck. She sighed and shook her head.

"I say we move to the living room. Nothing bad has happened to me in there." She touched his arm and sighed out. "I think they are showing off for you." She said sadly, walking down the stairs keeping her eyes open. She looked over her shoulder and walked to Wesley's side. She wasn't going ahead of him, nor behind, she was going to stay right by him, equal opportunities to run in case something else happened.

"I love to say I told you so." She said with a smirk.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley agreed, going down the stairs with her. He sighed when she said that. And he'd love to say 'bite me', but there were bigger fish to fry than squabbling over whether or not he had believed her. He did now, and at the moment, in a house of who knows what kinds of things, he was the only player on her side. He smiled, she'd better be nice to him, he did have the opportunity to just leave.

But Wesley knew he wouldn't do that. Not only could he not just leave her to fend for herself, but he was interested in this house now, intrigued by the things that were going on.

They made their way to the kitchen, where the light was promptly turned on. Wesley collapsed in a chair. He was dog-tired, but he wouldn't go to bed now, not after that whole clownisode. He watched Poppy closely as she also sat down. She looked tired, but after that great night's sleep she'd gotten with those hefty pills he'd given her, she probably had more steam to go on than he did. But oh well, he wasn't ready to go back upstairs and try sleeping again yet.

Instead, he reached down and unzipped his bag, grabbing the almost book-sized stack of papers he had printed from the internet. He still had more to learn, there were things at the library he wanted to check out and look at. But for the time being, these would do. He handed them to Poppy and nodded to them.

"When you woke me up at night and told me about stuff, I researched the history of the house that might have mentioned something about what you were experiencing," he explained. He tapped the top of the stack. "This is only the history of this place dating back to the early nineteen hundreds. But there were things here even before that. I haven't begun to look at what happened here in the eighteen hundreds, all that information is at the library," he said. He shook his head. "This place has a lot of blood on its hands..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"Mm," Poppy said to him as she reached across the small coffee table to take a stack of papers he was fishing out of his bag. "Hands that come out of wells, also." She sat back in the large overstuffed chair, propping her right leg on the arm of it while sprawling out and looking at the pages filled with old photograph's, both of owners and of apparitions in windows, creepy things with creepy faces. She shivered and looked around the living room that was bright, warm, cheerful. It was the only thing she loved about this how fully, the living room since it was painted a nice warm maroon, wooden floors, and wooden fireplace mantle. The overstuffed furniture was red and tied into the walls. Cleanliness was key and it was also nice to have a phone and television in there as well as locking doors. Which, Poppy noticed, the double sliding doors were opened.

She sat the pages on the corner of the table and stood up, going to the thick wooden doors and grabbed the small golden handles and pulling them closed, locking the latch lock. She shivered and walked back to her chair and fell into it, grabbing the papers again, flipping through them.

"So, you at least had a moment of believing me." She said to him, looking up at him sitting on the couch. She let out a sigh and dropped the stack of papers on her lap. "My brother...he used to call me at night, frantic, panting, sometimes crying. The night he died he left me thirteen messages. I never could get a hold of him, but I got this feeling that somethign was terribly wrong. That same night, I had a dream he was on the chandelier." She bit her lower lip for a moment, holding her breath.

"I never told anyone that. I think I was in denial of the whole thing. His messages, I couldn't understand, but I would hear him say something about hands, clowns, weird things that didn't make sense until now." She leaned forward and looked around the room to make sure they were alone. "What is the deal with hands and clowns? What the crap is that thing upstairs?" She frowned shaking her head. Poppy gasped harshly when she looked across the room to see her reflection in the window. She grabbed the chair's arms and held her breath.

"Christ, see! What this house is doing to me?" She laughed lightly, shaking her head. She stood up as she continued to talk. "His last message I remember distinctly. He asked...why doesn't he have any eyes." She looked around outside, seeing nothing but dead tree's and the flood light on the shed to the dock. She shivered at the feeling of being outside, although she was inside, somehow the dead ground and rustling tree branches and dead grass flowed harshly by the winter wind could be felt from where she stood.

Poppy grabbed the thick curtains and drew them closed and turning back to Wesley.

"That picture I showed you...it doesn't have eyes."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley watched her, a little shocked at the news she gave him. After a long moment, he fished out a scan of the newspaper clipping that had been left in his notebook. He scanned it with his eyes, wondering if there was anything about there being no eyes. He shook his head after a moment.

"A boy was strangled in the upstairs bedroom..." he said, looking up at Poppy. "There was a long armed clown doll found at the scene, the presumed murder weapon, but no one was ever pinned for the crime..." he said, then shrugged a little. "Maybe it stuck around..." and as if on cue, a hissing sound came from the top of the stairs. Wesley jumped and looked up. It was the sound of hissing like a human would make if imitating a snake. He sneered, leaning forward a little to peer up into the dark upstairs. Now that all the lights were blown, the living room lights only went so far up the stairs, and Wes was waiting for something to come slithering out of the darkness...

His mind immediately supplied Grudge-like noises, and he quickly averted his gaze back to Poppy.

"I haven't read anything about no eyes...but that picture...that's just..." but he couldn't finish. He shivered.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy watched Wesley, fearing what he might see. She wanted to tell him to get back into the room and let her shut the other doors, it was her safe haven, she didn't want anything coming into her room. She had never thought bad about it and so far that mindset was keeping her safe from getting attacked in the living room. She shivered as she felt the cold wind seep into the living room from behind the curtains. She swallowed the fear and walked over to where he was, slowly, cautious, fearful that something might jump out and grab them both and take them to the underworld.

"What?" She said to him, hoping he'd say it was nothing. "See something?" She dared to ask. She grabbed his forearm with her left hand, while her right grabbed his back. She followed his eyes to where he had been looking, suddenly hearing something that was unnatural.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley glanced down at her, glancing back up to the darkness above the stairs, swearing he could see the shimmering of sharp clown teeth, but he just smiled down at Poppy and shook his head, going back into the livingroom and shutting the doors behind him. He shook his head again.

"Nothing to get worked up about," he said, but he was feeling creeped out.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy slit her eyes. Right, she was believing that one, especially after that look on his face. She decided she would rather not know than to actually see it. So, she agreed.

"Tell me more about this clown story, since it seems it wants to be a part of our lives, I think we need to know it's backstory." She walked to the chair and fell in it, taking the papers again to scroll through them, just mainly looking at the photographs rather than the newspaper clippings. "Who died? Why? Anything you have, give it to me."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley flopped down and watched her. His photographic memory automatically went to work, recalling everything he had learned. He thought a moment, gathering his words before he spoke. He looked at her and raised a hand for a moment.


"Well," he began. "In the nineteen hundreds sometime, an heiress to the fortune of the man who lived here, was found on the roof upstairs. The clipping said there was no logical reason for her death, that it didn't look like suicide or murder," he said. He shrugged. "A few days later, her little brother was found strangled in his bed by the clown doll. Naturally, everyone pegged it to be the mother, who, in the event of both children's death, would become the beneficiary. So the doll was put in a local vault to keep as evidence, but it disappeared shortly after and couldn't be recovered. The locals thought the wife, but she died shortly after her children..." he paused. "She hung herself in the ballroom."

He watched Poppy for a moment before shrugging.

"Other than that, there used to be a slaughter house here, a lot of slaves died here, msot of the owners have died, or left. A few have gone insane. I haven't been able to get anything on anyone who would have walled in the upstairs like it is..." he paused, realizing he hadn't actually seen anything behind those walls. He sighed. "To explain your hand problem. Apparently a slave's hands were cut off and he was tossed into the well. And the hands were never recovered...when you mentioned the hands on the phone to me..." he shrugged. He had become a little unnerved himself.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sat there, visualizing it all, a crazy woman killing her children, then to the clown killing everyone. It made no sense, nothing tied together except that this was like Amityville horror, except worse. She shivered after a moment and leaned forward, spreading out pictures of owners, slaves what have you on the coffee table.

"This house is just...messed up." She looked at Wesley and swallowed. "My brother told me about stories he had heard from people, much of what you are telling me now, but he said that a man bought this house in hopes of fixing it. But, he was so creeped out by it that he built walls around the existing rooms upstairs. In the end, he ended up dying." She let out a laugh.

"Sounds like everyone who touch this house die in some way or another!" She shivered then heard a slam come from upstairs. She looked up at the ceiling then to Wesley. "We should go see what is behind the walls upstairs."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley wanted to know if she was crapping him. But the look on her face was serious as a heart attack. He glanced down at his watch, it was five AM. Pretty soon it would be daylight. He shrugged a little and nodded at her as he dug out a cigarette and a shirt from his bag, donning the clothing and lighting the cigarette.

He nodded at her.

"Sounds like a plan, I guess..." he paused a moment. "Do you have flashlights?" he asked. And that sledghammer was coming with them. Nothing like a big weapon handy. And in the absence of a shot gun, in this situation, a sledgehammer would have to work.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sighed, thankful he agreed cause she wasn't willing to do it alone anymore. She was scared enough as it was and she had a man with her. She nodded and stood up, she looked at Wes and held out her hand.

"You are holding my hand. It's dark." She didn't care how incredibly stupid that sounded, but if she was going down, he was coming with her! She bit her lower lip as she watched him breathe in those wonderful toxins. He was a good looking man, strong, resonated masculinity and calm, as well as intelligence she figured he'd know what to do if the ran into something big and scary. She frowned, that first part about the attractiveness had nothing to do with what she was thinking.

"Flashlights are under the stairway."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley fished out one and handed it to her, and then fished out another for himself. Luckily, they were big, and would shed a good amount of light on the place. He glanced back at her as he grabbed her outstretched hand. He sighed, opening up the doors that would allow them into the rest of the house. He looked up the stairs and shown his light up the stairs. It looked innocent enough, but after all this, he wasn't ready to pass that judgment quite yet.

He glanced back at Poppy, seeing her face was a little pale. And he would wager his was probably not rosy at this prospect.

"Ready?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy looked at Wesley, thank god he was holding her hand because if he didn't she'd be jumping on his back for a ride. She nodded to him and let out a sigh as she turned her light on and looked around the upstairs. This was probably a bad idea, really it probably was, but she figured she'd rather do it now while they still were together than later when he refused to help her anymore.

"I guess so," She said taking a step up the stairs. "Just promise you won't leave me to die." She stated nervously. "You seem to be that kind of person, y'know, every man for himself." She smiled as they began to ascend the stairs, both pausing momentarily at noises that might have been made. "Age before beauty, pick a room." Poppy looked at him and squeezed his hand letting him know that leaving her was now an impossibility cause it would take a saw to get her hand out of his own.

[Wesley Paige]

Boy, if this was any other situation, Wesley would highly enjoy her smart mouth. But as it was, he just smiled a little and decided the room inbetween his and the room Poppy was staying in. He noted that there were no holes here, either they'd have to knock one in, or she knew a way into the back without it.

"Here looks like a good place to start, wouldn't you say?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy shrugged.

"Why not." She pused the door open and looked around seeing nothing out of the ordinary except the same thing she saw in every stale room. The bed, dresser, side table, bare light. She sighed out and flipped on the light and slightly squinted as it came on. She walked to the far end wall and knocked then looking over at Wes nodded. "Here sounds good." She sighed, what would they find? She was waiting to find dead body parts, but she figured there was probably a lot worse to find than that.

Talking clowns, for instance. She needed to go show him teh two rooms she had seen earlier, get his opinion on it.

"Ready whenever you are, Doc."

[Wesley Paige]

Wes nodded. He shut off his flashlight and tossed it onto the bed. He grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled it away from the wall so he'd have enough room. He grabbed up the sledgehammer and rested it on his shoulder for a moment as he patted the wall to guess the best place to hit. Finally, after a moment, he set his feet on the ground, hefted the sledgehammer back, and with all his force, he swung it forward and into the wall.

He heard the wall groan and crumble. The wall was not hugely thick, but it was tiny either. He kept slamming the hammer into it, until a big chunk fell though and onto the other side. Wes stopped for a moment before taking a different angle and hitting it again and again. The wall was being stubborn and stood up to his strong hits for a little while, but finally, after about twenty minutes or so he had knocked in a hole large enough for them to duck and step through. They'd have to step over some of the wall, as he hadn't knocked it in to the floor, but it was big enough for them.

A cold breeze rushed through the hole and into the room, snapping the door behind them shut. Wes looked at it for a long time before dropping the hammer on the floor.

"Well, hole one," he said, smiling at Poppy. He grabbed up his flashlight. "Age before beauty?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy watched him take the sledgehammer and knock the wall down, it was a hard task, she knew she had done it to three walls, but watching him made it look that much harder. She had been up almost 24 hours, but she didn't care, she was wide awake and didn't want to go to sleep, she wanted to continue finding t hings, getting to know this house, see what the heck was so frightening about what was on the other side, although she had seen two creepy things she was sure that it could have been fixed.

She sighed out when she realized neither one of them had died in the tackling of the wall, although she thought it was almost at the end when the door slammed. She figured it was due to the air, so she kept it at that.

"I'll go." She said grabbing the flashlight and stepping over the piece of wall that remained. She stepped inside, feeling the cold air blow on her face that was burning alive from all that had happened. She reached her hand out the wall wanting Wes to take it.

"Not going down without you with me." She said with a smile of reassurance. This was just a house, some creepy things were involved but so far neither one of them had been hurt, yet.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled and took her hand, stepping through the hole. Immediately, his nose was assaulted with the most foul smell he had ever partaken of. It smelt like charred wood, charred hair, charred skin, charred everything. Not to mention like something that was decomposing. He groaned, putting a hand over his nose as he flicked his flashlight on.

For a moment, Wes wasn't sure what he was looking at. The beam of his flashlight had landed on what...might have once been a chest of drawers...except...Wesley looked around. Did he hear crackling? Like the sound of a fire, or of embers popping. And something was falling off the walls. He pointed his flashlight to the wall to his right. It was totally black, charred completely, the paint peeling and flaking off, like a fire had just raged through here. Wesley watched as some paint flaked and fell to the floor. It had once been a fresh green room, as the back of the paint was still with its color.

Wesley's flashlight wandered down to the floor where wood, paint flakes, and other debris commonly found at a fire site would have been found. He looked up at the ceiling. The bare light was broken and turned black from the smoke. The whole room was charred black, and decrepit. The room groaned slightly like it would fall any moment. There was still a bed in the corner, and the wardrobe in the other corner was open, and hangers still hung inside, the charred remains of clothing clinging to them like an over-exuberant lover.

Wesley turned and reached a hand down to touch the charred remains of the room on the floor. He put his fingers in the inch-thick debris, but a white hot pain seared his fingers.

"Damn it!" he cried as he jerked his hand back. He looked down and toed away some of the ashes. By God, if there weren't red hot embers there underneath the cooled debris. His eyes widened and he turned to Poppy, shining his flashlight in her face.

"You have a fire up here recently?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was immediately in shock, the smell was almost delightful, she enjoyed the smell of burned wood, but then there was a repugnant scent that flew under her nose, she didn't know what to place it, but it seemed that the rooms had a theme going, it smelled bad.

She heard the sounds of popping, crackling of sap in the wood, sizzles from where things burned, she would occassionally stop breathing when she saw something fall, only to see it was paint or pieces of the ceiling. She heard a slight crack and she flahsed the light on the ground to see small orange lights from what looked like reminents of a fire. She turned her flashlight to the closet and let go of Wes' hand to explore. She coughed when a whiff of death entered her nose.

"Damn, what is that." She said as she pushed the hangers on the rod with her flashlight. She glanced over at Wesley and frowned. "I think I would know if I had a fire. I also think that if there was one...we'd kinda have to evacuate." She sighed, looking back at the closet to find shreds of burned clothes. "Something ripped through here, that is for certain." She turned around to walk over to the dresser, then to the window.

"Can't see a damned thing." She said as she turned to face Wesley's silhouette. She saw their two orbs of orange float around the room, sometimes finding something they almost jumped at, only to realize it was either a piece of the wall, or something else. Every now and then she'd see a bright orange light appear from under the debris, but it was due to their moving around.

The silence was deafening until a loud creak brought her attention to her dark surroundings. She shined her light near Wesley's face, to see him and yet not blind him, the orb landing on a blind spot near the hole in the wall. She frowned.

"You hear something?" She didn't know if that was normally associated with fire in homes, she just needed a second opinion. She walked closer to him, shining her light around not really finding anything. For some reason, though, she felt like the room was getting darker. She found his arm and heard that specific sound, like someone moving on a metal bed, the coils being tightened or flattened. She shivered.

"What is that?" She asked, shining back to the closet hoping nothing was going to jump out at them for that would be, just their luck.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley heard it too, and he was feeling that distinct, and bred human instinct to run. Because every primal fear God had given to humans was going off in Wesley's brain. His light was going slowly around the room as he listened to the creaking. No way was it outside in the room where there was a functional bed. It was way too close for that. Wes felt Poppy grab his arm and he moved a little in front of her to allow her easy access to get out if things got nasty in here. He'd rather her get out and live. Even though he wasn't particularly wanting to die, he wanted to make sure she was safe.

There white orbs were searching frantically for something, anything, that would tip them off as to what that noise was. It would stop for a moment, then start again. Stop, then start. It really did sound like someone moving and turning over in a creaky old bed. Like the one on the outside of this wall. But they were inside this wall, and that noise was so close, Wes could almost taste it.

And then, his stomach sank.

Instinctively, his light went to the old, burnt, decrepit...creaky bed, sitting in the corner. His light was shaking a little as his hand wasn't exactly still due to the knot of fear beginning to grow in his stomach.

"Jesus..." he muttered, as he saw something...something...moving around on the bed. He leaned down, whispering to Poppy. "Any other house guests besides me tonight?" he asked, and he could have sworn he saw some hair peeking out from under the charred blanket.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

She felt Wes lean into her with his back and she had the distinct need to just grab and squeeze. She felt safe with him, although that wasn't saying much cause she was scared to the point of where breathing wasn't a need. She clenched her jaw as she found the bed with her light, seeing the blanket that laid on the bed had something under it. She was frantic, why weren't they leaving? Why must they stay and look?

"Aside from the clown? I a wouldn't be surprised." She said lowly, her voice almost gone from the fear. "Want to...go see?" She looked up at him and even though they were in shadow she could feel that his facial expression was telling her to go somewhere else with that idea. She looked back at the bed and when the noise creaked, the blanket moved. They both jumped back, Wes vocalizing a 'Jesus', Poppy saying something more inappropriate.

"Why aren't we leaving?" She asked, but the answered that came wasn't what she was hoping to hear. A moan. A distinct, freakin' moan. The coils on the bed popped and she squeezed Wes in her arm, her flashlight looking under the bed at the fallen coil that broke under the weight. But the weight of what was the question. She was panting like she had run for miles, watching, waiting. Her mouth was pushed against Wes' shoulder and when the bed actually moved, she gasped, holding her breathe, and biting the shirt covering his right shoulder.

"It's moving, please tell me it's not moving."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley had wished he could say it wasn't but he couldn't. He heard the tinkling sound of one of the coils breaking off and falling to the charred floor under the weight of whatever the hell was moving around on that damn bed. He watched it, he didn't want to walk over, but while his flight instinct was telling him to turn friggin' tale and get the hell outta dodge, his mind wanted to see what the frick was invading this house.

"By God, Poppy...that damn thing is moving..." he whispered. "I'd love to be able to lie and say it wasn't..." Wesley moved forward a little, his light trained on the area where he had seen the hair. Poppy's grip on his was like death, but he didn't mind. It meant if something crappy happened, they'd either be escaping together, or going down together.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy almost screamed when the thing on the bed moved drastically, almost as if there were literally a monster.

"You know, I think..I think it's just a rat or something." She bit her lower lip when she felt Wesley move forward. "What are you doing?" She asked in response to his action, oh but he didn't say much, but the thing on the bed sure did. The blanket slowly began to move down the lump of matter that continuously moaned, moved, and caused the bed to creak that eerie sound. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she realized she'd have to move with Wes.

"Are you gonna...gonna look?" She asked lowly. "Cause...I'm not sure that would be such a good idea." Whether or not she knew good ideas from bad ones, this entire staying in the room was a terrible one, but yet there they were fixated on the bed. It creaked and they jumped, but they were easy to find it again with their flashlights.

"Oh my god." She said to Wes, pushing herself against him. "Is that an arm? Wesley? Wesley! Is that an arm!?" Her eye watered as her eyes focused on the thing laying beside the bedframe it almost matching the color of the black charred metal framework. She panicked and she didn't want to see if she was right, yet if she didn't know...

"Oh christ..." She said lowly, biting her lip like it were dinner. "On the count of three, we should...pull the cover off!" She was stupid for that idea, but if that was an arm that meant that what was moving was a body. A human.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley couldn't breathe well enough to really answer her. Instead he just nodded mutely. His flashlight wandered down to where she said there was an arm. Sure as hell, there it lay, charred and black, but greyish, decaying, and with a definate five fingers. He shook his head a little as the thing moaned like it had water in its throat. Yeah, that was a rat just about like he was.

Wesley set his jaw and nodded at her. But he didn't opt for her to grab the blanket. Instead he reached out and took the edge. The thing on the bed immediately stopped moving, as if it knew what was coming next. Wesley was panting like he'd swam three laps without coming up for air. He kept swallowing like he was going to barf, his body was sweaty, and this room was getting hotter by the moment. Wes glanced over at Poppy and mouthed to her...

One...two...three.

Wesley jerked backwards as hard as he could and let go of the charred blanket as quickly as possible, but that wasn't hard, as it began to crumbled as soon as he pulled. Wesley's flashlight shook and trembled as it landed on what appeared, in all his anatomical knowledge, to be a charred, burnt human...body. And it's head was slowly turning their way, the black hair like a bird's nest, and barely clinging to the skin that was burnt and falling away.

"Mary, mother of God..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy gasepd immediately at the sight, it wasn't what she expected, then agian who expected a charred dead <i>mobing</i> body in a walled up room that looked like hell had once occupied the space.

"Oh..my..god." Poppy said in a raspy voice, the head was slowly turning, pieces of hair falling to the ground and through the coils of the bed, the creaking getting louder as the arm jerked. They jumped.

"Oh...oh...oh no..." The moment the head fell to the side, eyes closed, Poppy almost let out a breath. "Don't bodies do that? Make noises, move when it dies? When <i>we</i> die?" She looked at Wesley then back to the body. It stopped which was good cause she didn't feel like fleeing from dead bodies what looked almost like ash. Pieces of its face was beginning to fall and she almost had a mind to blow on it.

Poppy ran her flashlight from the face all the way to the edge of the blanket, when she turned it back to the face the eyes flew open and she was blinded by the flashlight shining back. She heard a rasp for air and then she screamed when the mouth opened and stuck out its tongue as if taunting them for brains. Poppy dropped her flashlight and she let out a curse. She bent down to pick it up and suddenly looked up to find the body was moving, rather swiftly to sit upright on the bed, she was frozen as she leaned forward, staring up at the object staring back at them, eyes holding nothing but shards of glass, mirror to be exact.

[Wesley Paige]

"And that's our cue to go!" Wesley cried, swinging his flashlight to hit the the face with the end of it. It's mirror eyes cracked with the force that he hit it, but he didn't stop to ask if it was alright. Instead, he grabbed Poppy and booked it to the hole in the wall. He grabbed her elbow and helped her as she began to climb through. But that thing wasn't taking no for an answer.

It was standing upright, now, staring at them with those shattered mirror eyes, and it was coming towards them. Wesley was sweating, trying to get Poppy through as quickly as possible.

"Quickly, quickly," he said urgently. Poppy was finally through and with one look back as that dead thing reached for him, Wesley swung through, booking it like he had never before. He grabbed the sledgehammer, grabbed Poppy's arm, hooked the flashlight on his belt, and sprinted for the door, pushing Poppy out ahead of him, and slamming the door shut behind them. The sound of the dead thing's wet, throaty, dead noises still echoing from behind the door, as it moved around, probably trying to manuever out of the hole.

"Like hell..." Wesley said, standing against the door, breathing so heavily, he thought he might pass out. He looked over at Poppy. "I don't think she likes us much..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

"Jesus Christ in hell!" Poppy grasped onto the railing in the hall as she looked down at the lobby, hearing faint noises of what was left back in the room. She saw it's face still in her mind, the eyes, the noise of the bed, all of it. She shivered and looked over at Wesley leaning on the wall.

"The feeling is mutual!" She panted, frowning as she moved around shrugging off the feeling that it had a hold of her, she closed her eyes and sighed out unsure of what she just saw. "You okay?" She asked with a sigh of relief now that she smelled the scent of the house, feeling the cooler air in the hall.

"It didn't hurt you or anything?" She waited for a response as she looked over herself. "I say we wait until daylight to start scavenging behind walls. My mistake." She looked up at Wes and waved him towards her with her hand. "i think we should barracade ourselves in the living room with the television, phone, and yor pack of cigarettes. Clowns and dead...burned...<i>things</i> with glass in the eyes."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley saluted. He was all for that idea. He felt a sting on his back. That thing had clipped him a little with its...claws...as he had gotten through the hole. But he doubted it was anything serious, afterall, he always healed quicker. He walked over to Poppy, giving her the once over. He nodded at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just shook up..." he said. He put his hand in the small of her back and urged her downstairs to the living room. Once there, they shut and locked the doors, giving them access only to the kitchen. They would have to leave the safe zone to go pee though, sadly. However, he figured if anything happened while they were trying to take a leak, a quick scream would bring the other running with the sledghammer. Or maybe just taking the sledghammer to the lou would be a better idea.

Anyway, he didn't know why he was so preoccupied with how they were going to drain the lilly, afterall, he should have been more worried about actually getting out of the house. He glanced down at his watch as they closed the doors. Six o'clock. The sun would start peeking over the hill in roughly a half hour. He glanced at Poppy, and idea in his head. He zipped open his bag and pulled out a pair of pants.

"I think I'm gonna take a trip to the library and check out those things I needed for my research..." he said. He looked over at Poppy. "You can on on to my apartment, so you don't have to keep yourself safe here alone..." he paused. "I'd just love to know the rest of the history of this place, and the library has started opening at six these days."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy sighed out, seeing that it was still dark, but it had that morning feel of where you knew it was coming soon. She yawned as if suddenly everything had not happened and she was just imagining it all. She glanced over at Wesley and raised an eyebrow.

"I think, I think I'm going to stay here. So far this room has been the kindest to me." She yawned once more then walked over to her purse on a small chair and pulled out her cell phone. "I will call if anything happens. You be careful and don't stay too long." She shivered. "I don't like being here by myself." She knew she should leave, but at the same time she felt compelled to stay, as she had in the room upstairs.

"I'm gonna take a nap, try to at least." She grabbed the throw blanket that hung on the back of the couch and opened it up and wrapped it around her, looking at him as he held out his jeans. She nodded at him and sat down on the couch and sighed, laying down after a moment to not only drift off and to let him change if need be.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley nodded watching her lay down. He pulled his jeans on and slid into his boots. He donned a t-shirt then a sweater, then a scarf he had brought in case it got really cold in the house. He grabbed his keys, his cigarettes, and glanced once more back at Poppy as he opened the door and left.

As soon as he was in his car, and on the road, the heaviness that house put on him disappeared. He smoked several cigarettes on his way back into town, and he kept glancing at both the clock and his cellphone. He parked his car on the curb next to the library. Few people were out and about yet, but he was well known at the library.

He hopped up the steps, his satchel on his shoulder and he pushed through the door. The woman at the desk glanced up sleepily. She seemed surprised.

"Well, you're here early, Doctor Paige," she said. He glanced over and smiled a little. He nodded.

"Yeah, doing a little extra curricular stuff this morning," he said. He went back to the back where there were computers and he typed in, Wickett Estate. Immediately, several book listings came up. He jotted them down, along with newspaper articles before clearing the search and getting up to find what he was looking for.

Within twenty minutes of his arrival, Wes was sitting at one of the tables, flipping through books, magazines, newspapers, writing down every single death and the details of it that had to do with that house. He found out that in the basement--God forbid he and Poppy venture down there--that an opening to slave tunnels underground had been walled up all over the estate. Several slaves had been walled inside. Alive. He shivered at the thought.

He read more about the slaughter house that used to be there. But he wasn't finding what he was looking for. Wesley grabbed up a newspaper that looked promising and flipping through the pages that were in their plastic protector cases. He scanned the pages, then scanned again. Then he stopped. He grimaced as he began to read in depth.

A mortician had there once, cured the bodies there. He read that the man was slowly driven mad in his old age, and when he recieved bodies, he would prop them up in strange positions, put mirrors where their eyes should be, took pictures. Wesley was happy to discover that due to the man's "eccentric" decorating skills, most of the upstairs was walled up before the nineteen forties. And all of it was probably walled up as of the time of the newspaper, around nineteen sixty-three.

Wesley sighed, shutting the paper up and shaking his head. He glanced at his watch and got up, picking up three books, and two newpapers and taking them to the front.

"I wanna check these out..." he muttered, digging around in his wallet for his library card. The woman looked over and then down at the books as she picked them up. She furrowed her brow.

"Doing research on the old Wickett Place, Doctor?" she asked. Wesley looked up as he laid his card down on the counter. He watched her ring them up. He shrugged a little.

"Doing some research for a friend, really," he said. The woman nodded, finishing everything up and handing him the books and newspapers with a reciept inside.

"The books are due in January, and the newspapers have a week, limit, so they are due next Saturday," she said. Wesley nodded, putting the books and newspapers down into his satchel and going out. He had been at the library roughly a half hour, and the sun was beginning to come up, the grey paleness of morning showing the fog and snow that was still falling.

He hopped in his car, checked his phone, and then began off again, driving with a little more speed. He was anxious to get back and tell Poppy what he had read, show the mortician, show her everything. He wrapped his face in his scarf, it was hurting on the side a little from the cold.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy startled awake to the point of almost gasping and falling off the couch, but luckily she wasn't a good judge of depth of field when sleeping. Her dream had been one of those annoying falling dreams and, as always, she woke up in a start when she was supposed to hit the ground. Poppy frowned, sleep thick in her eyes except she hadn't been sleeping for very long, she sat up, moving her body back into its natural position on the couch, looking around to see it was still empty and that Wes had yet to return from his adventures at the library. She groaned as she heard her back pop as she pulled off the blanket to go use the restroom. She didn't realize how incredibly full it was until that moment when she sat up and stood up off the couch, it was almost painful.

Poppy yawned as she wandered around the couch to the doors and slowly pulling them open. Although it was slightly daylight outside, the dark skies gave off that eerie darkness that only winter had. She looked around into the lobby that was dark, very dark. The only beam of light coming from the living room and two small windows that were shaded by the front porch. She shivered when she realized how cold the rest of the house was.

"Crap." She moaned, looking into the living room and contemplating on taking the blanket, but she didn't. Poppy stepped out into the lobby hearing her naked feet pat against the wooden floor. She held up her pant legs as she tapped across the floor, stopping once in the middle of the lobby to stare up at the railing fearng she'd find someone staring down at her. She shivered as she ran to the bathroom and closed the door and locked it. When she realized she was safe she sighed out and walked to the toilet and dropped her pants.

"Oh, heavenly father." She said loudly with relief that came hand in hand with release. She leaned on her knees, looking down at her feet thinking nothing as she waited till all was freed. She wondered what Wesley was doing, if he was finding anything pertaining to the history of this house. Apparently while she was being stalked by figments of, what should have been, her imagination he was digging up the past. She drew in a deep breath as she lifted her gaze to the wall in front of her.

She felt a cool breeze blow under the door and rattle the plastic lining of the shower. She almost gasped when she saw it move in the corner of her eye, but she looked at it to see that it was just due to the weather. She bit her lower lip feeling the last tiny drips from her bladder fall into the toilet. She was so happy when she was finished, that feeling always making her happy and feel rejuvinated. She reached forward to grab the toilet paper when she saw the curtain move again to her left. She frowned and looked at the door then to the curtain. That time it didn't move by accident.

Poppy, not wanting to ruin the feeling of happiness she felt, ignored it and cleaned herself, seeing the curtain sway once more. She heard a small whisper and she looked over at the door with wide eyes, staring, waiting to see feet, or shadow of, under the door but she didn't. She heard the curtain moving again and suddenly she got the distinct feeling she wasn't alone.

Curiosity got the best of her and when she almost thought of opening the curtain her eyes caught a glimpse of <i>something</i>. Slowly she lifted her gaze up the wall then slowly to the left to see that there was someone peering out from behind the curtain, black eyes, black hair, white pale face. Poppy leaned to the right, unable to take a breath of air for she was in shock. The dead white fingers grasped the curtain rod and suddenly it began to move, as if to crawl over the shower curtain. Poppy screamed and fell off the toilet. She stood up, pulling her pants up and rushing to the door, unable to get it open. She banged on it as she tugged on the door handle, trying to pry the door open.

She cussed and kicked it as she looked over her shoulder to see it crawling over it as if it were some sort of spider. Poppy wasn't the one to take good looks at undead people who managed to contort their bodies in such a manner as to where it looked unnatural. She screamed as she pulled the door, feeling like someone was on the otherside holding it, preventing her from exiting.

"Christ, christ, Christ!" Poppy screamed as she tried to do everything in her power to open it. She looked over to see it was nearing the floor. What kind of thing was this? It was almost like a scene from a horror film with the dead asian crawling down a curtain like they were a spider and it was its web.

She felt the cold hand grab her naked ankle and she kicked it screaming at the top of her lungs for help, although she doubted any clowns were coming to her savior. She felt the thing grab her again and before kicking it the door fell open and she landed on her hip. She shook the hand loose as it crawled towards her, dragging itself along the floor, the heavy black hair in its face making weird noises. Oh how cliche this all was, but it still didn't take the fear out of it.

Poppy screamed as she watched the hair slightly fall aside the face, seeing completely black eyes, so black she could see her reflection. Poppy scrambled to her feet and dashed across the lobby and back into the living room, shutting the doors and locking them frantically. She heard the things fingernails scratching on the door, wanting in, she could see hair peeking under the doorway, the shadow underneath unable to ignore. Poppy picked up the sledgehammer and waited by the door holding it in her hands ready to whack it if she got the gumption to open the door, but she remember what happened last time with Mr. Smile's the clown upstairs.

Poppy figured she might as well, she'd rather die trying than die doing nothing.

"Bastard." She said as she grabbed the lock and flipped it open and pushed the doors open, taking a swing and hearing it crack against the floor. She opened her eyes and saw that it was gone. "Naturally you piece of-" Poppy looked over at the stairs to see it peeking over the side of the stairs where she could visibly see through the railing. She shivered as she stared at the creature.

Poppy looked at the ground to see a small indention in the flooring but she didn't care, she'd fix it later. Without anything else she slammed the door closed and locked it. She'll wait till Wes got home to fight the thing two to one.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley parked in the drive. His cheek was throbbing, he imagined it must have been from the cold. He rubbed at it a little, or actually rubbed the scarf covering it. He got out of his car, grabbing his satchel and turning his car off. He tucked his keys down into his coat and closed his door. He glanced up at the house. The living room's cheery lights were on, and the light from the upstairs room where they had battled the charred person was also still on.

And, as if on cue, another light in another room came on, and someone...or...something was standing in the window, peering down at him. He couldn't be sure, due to the limited morning light, but it looked an awful like like Bozo the Clown from earlier. Wesley flipped it off and hopped up the porch steps. He pulled his scarf down and tried to open the door but it was locked. He leaned off the porch and knocked on the window.

"Poppy! It's me!" he called, not wanting to frighten her.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the knee, leaning forward, watching the set of doors as if waiting for the thing to come back. She loved it in the living room now, it seemed like this room was the safest place to be, that and the kitchen, sorta, if you don't count the incidents she witnessed in there. She heard a tapping on the glass and she jumped up, ready with her sledgehammer to take down the world if it came to that point, but Wesley's voice made her sigh with relief.

"Wesley, thank you." She dropped the handle on th ehammer and heard it hit the floor, she pushed the doors open and looked directly to the stairs, but saw nothing, she crossed the room to the right and unlocked the front door and saw Wesley looking into the living room window. "Am I glad to see you." She said leaning outside for a moment to feel how incredibly cold the air was outside.

"If I need to take a leak, you are comign with me to hold my hand, just...for future reference."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley faced her and smiled, reaching up and touching the cheek that was throbbing with the cold. He thought it odd that it was only one cheek. He smiled at her as he moved into the light, pulling his scarf totally down. He peered into the house over her shoulder.

"Something reach out and grab you?" he asked, poking gentle fun. He shivered, that could actually happen in this house.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy normally would have had something to respond with, but she was too much infatuated with the sudden disgusting gash on the side of his left cheek, not only was it nasty looking, but it had something on it.

"Uh, Wes-Wesley..." She leaned forward and looked at him, then screamed and jumped back. "Oh my god! You have a gash on your face, bleeding maggots!"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's body was immediately in the flight mode. He pressed a hand to his face but didn't feel anything. He furrowed his brow, and pushed by her to the hall mirror. He looked and...

"What the--" he cried, wiping his hand over the gashes. Maggots were writhing under his fingers now, falling to the floor. He yelled as he tried to rid himself of the vile creatures, but it was like they were multiplying as he stood there. He shook his head so hard before standing up and whipping around to look in the mirror. His eyes widened.

There was nothing there.

He searched the glass of the mirror, touched his face. Nothing. He didn't see anything on his face. He looked down at the floor, but saw nothing there. Wes looked back at the mirror. His face was as clean as it had ever been. His brow furrowed as he leaned in as close as he possibly could, his nose almost pressed against the mirror. He couldn't believe it. He had seen it, felt the disgusting things on his face, watched them fall to the floor. And yet...his face had nothing on it. Wesley shook his head a little. Suddenly, the mirror veined from where his nose was just touching it, and cracked outward with a loud smashing sound. He jumped back, accidentally running into Poppy when he did. He looked at the mirror as a little peice fell off and shattered on the floor.

"What the hell," he said. He turned back to Poppy, still touching his face. "This is getting ridiculous. It's attacking our bodies now too."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy watched him frantically wipe his face, while she stood there disgusted unsure if she could help or make things worse for him. What was she to do? Wipe off his face as well? Heck no, she wasn't touching maggots! She cringed as she watched him, then suddenly he turned to show her that nothing was there. She stood in bewilderment, this was getting a tad bit much wasn't it? Pretty soon they were going to end up stuck in that house to die and go straight to hell. Which, honestly, she was wondering if perhaps this was the main portal.

"Christ." She said looking at his face in shock and fear, then to the floor where the shards of glass were now sprawled at his feet. "Okay, number one, better your face than mine, and two, that is seven years of bad luck." She bit her lower lip and looked around. "I always have this feeling that something is watching us, don't you?" She shivered and grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room and slid the doors shut, locking them. The mirror shards can repair themselves, she could honestly care less about messy house, she was worried about their safety.

"While you were gone...I dunno, you've seen those freaky asian films right? Well, I think I had a personal encounter with something of the like, in the bathroom, while I was peeing." She shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know, this place is driving me insane." She ran her fingers through her slightly tangled hair, looking at Wesley, she didn't know why but she was more than happy to have him with her or else she might have hung herself a long time ago.

"Did you find anything?" She saw his satchel and figured she could move on to something else less...frightening.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley shook his head, shivering and trying to get the feeling off of him. He watched her shut the doors, and sat down. He opened his satchel and fished out the books and the newspaper. He pulled the paper onto his lap and flipped through it. He showed it to Poppy.

"There was a..." he furrowed his brow a little. "A mortician that lived there, named Calitz. Jorgan Calitz, he...gouged out the eyes of the bodies and replaced them with mirrors. He was a bit strang in his decorating skills, he's the one who made all the crazy rooms," he said. He sighed. "Most of them were walled up before the nineteen forties, and then all of them were walled in by the sixties..." he paused a moment. "Then, down in the basement there was an opening from slave tunnels that ran all over the estate. It was all...bricked in during the Civil War, with...slaves still in there, I suppose when the family evacuated. Assumably, they suffocated, or the tunnel collapsed on them..." he leaned down and dug out all of his notes. He handed it to her.

"That's every single death that occured between eighteen hundred and two thousand. I don't know how many before, there aren't any records, or if there are, they aren't at the library..." he paused. "There's gotta four pages, full."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy frowned, surprised that this man knew how to do his research. She fished through the pages, all listings of deaths, there were so many that by the time she finished the last page she was officially scared to death. There had been hangings, unidentified bodies, charred bodies, decapitated bodies, disassembled bodies...this place was literally a slaughter house for the insane.

"They keep mentioning a woman." Poppy stated just because she could as she looked at Wes. "Husband got made, sliced her up with a butcher knife. Wanted to hide her body so he drug her across the floor in a plastic bag." She shivered. "How creepy is that!" She looked back at the clipping she found about it. "Happened in...uh...46. Guy came home from the war saying spirits from Japan followed him, took over his wife." She laughed.

"I believe that one." She said raising her hand as if to testify. "That thing in the bathroom, oh my god." She sighed out and looked over at him. "Ever believe in ghosts prior to my arrival?" She smiled at him and gave a little laugh. "I bet you thought my brother and I were both nuts for talking about thigns in this house. I wouldn't have believed me either." She shook her head, looking over his shoulder to glance out the window at the snow falling heavily.

"Shame." She sighed out longingly. She looked back at Wesley and smiled at him again. "Now, I guess, you know how some of your patients feel."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed, leaning back and taking comfort in the fact that seven o'clock had come and the outside was light, though grey with snow clouds. But at least flashlights would not be needed any longer. Daylight brought him peace, maybe in the daytime, he could see things better, maybe there wouldn't be anything too bad. He looked over at Poppy and shook his head.

"Well, I'll definately investigate myself if clowns and burned corpses are involved," he said. Then he smiled. "But if pink elephants and little green men are coming for you, you're in need of a hospital..." he winked.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy laughed lightly, he was funny, she liked Wesely. Now that they had a moment of peace she was actually able to assess everything about the man who put himself in her house without any obligation or without being paid. It was almost like a civil duty. She sighed out and rolled her eyes.

"I think I'd rather have pink elephants. Oompa-loompa's on the other hand...well...we'll just hope that won't occur anytime while we are here." She grinned as she looked blindly at the things he had brought. It wasn't any different than what they had before, except perhaps more graphic with more stories and more photographs. She didn't honestly know what to make of it all except that, well, people were disgusting in what got them off. Poppy looked at Wesley and frowned.

"You hungry?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley's stomach growled on cue. He smiled up at her and nodded. He watched her go into the kitchen, and for a moment, he just considered everything that had happened. That had quite possibly been the longest night of his life. He hadn't gotten any kind of proper sleep, and had fought off Bozo and Crispy, without knowing if they would even get out of it. And apparently, Poppy had battled some Asian critter in the bathroom. He still hadn't asked about that.

"Hey, Poppy?" he asked, getting up off the couch and going into the kitchen. He sat at the island and looked at her. "You said you saw something in the bathroom...?" he asked. He wanted to know what other kinds of things there were. By this time, he was used to the clown, expected that sucker to come popping out of his boxer shorts. And Lady Crusty up on the second floor was now just a memory that he didn't want to repeat.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy fooled around with ideas on what to fix, something quick, something good, and fulfilling cause lord knew they had to go diving around the house for more stuff. She figured that if they made it through the afternoon she would make something good to eat for dinner, after all he needed something delicious after all these creepy events. She settled on eggs, bacon, and toast. She put four slices in the toaster and stuck eggs in the microwave, knowing how her brother hated the taste of skillet. She didn't understand that, but it was an old habit and it was dying hard.

"Yeah." She said to his rhetorical comment, she glanced up at him as she put slices of bacon an a plate, microwavable bacon that was. "I was using the bathroom, I felt a draft and heard the shower curtain move. I looked up after a few more moments and saw this..." She shook her head and sighed out, closing her eyes as if she were hiding from seeing it behind him.

"Face and hands. A young asian I suppose it was an asian, I don't know I didn't really stop to ask it's ethnicity, nor why it was snooping on me." She looked back to Wesley after opening her eyes. "It came crawling over the shower rod and I couldn't get out of the bathroom, I mean it could have been me being stupid, but it felt like someone was holding the door from the otherside,

"I finally got out of there, this of course after falling and breaking my hip bone a little after being grabbed by my ankle, twice. I ran to the living room, tried to hit it with the sledgehammer, but lo and behold if the sucker wasn't gone." She laughed and stuck the bacon into the microwave as she pulled out the hot steaming eggs.

"These creatures apparently favor the disappearing act."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley listened. What the crap? Maybe those Japanese spirits really did follow that man home. Wesley sighed and continued to listen, perplexed when she said she thought that the door was being held shut. It was easy to tell when a door was locked and when someone was holding it from the other side. And those two things are not something that could easily be mistaken for one another, so he believed her when she said that.

"Probably Smile Happy from upstairs, I imagine he gets around this place..." he paused a little, thinking he heard something, but after a moment he looked back at Poppy. He shrugged a little. "From my limited experience, he seems to be the 'dominate' spirit, if you will..." he watched her, thinking about that paranormal class he had taken in high school. He had at one time been a firm believer in the afterlife, in ghosts. But somewhere along the way, he had stopped believing. Now he was beginning to think he had been right to begin with. He shrugged. "Call it stupid, but that ignorant clown gets around this house more than anything I've seen yet..." he paused again. "Is that what you noticed, I mean, before I came? Did the other 'things' seem contained to one area, while he moved around more often?"

Wes felt a little odd discussing this, but at this point, nothing was weird anymore.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy smiled, she liked his many nicknames for the clowns and what not that were rummaging around the entire house, she frowned and shrugged.

"Prior to finding the mini house...it was just noises, certian things. Nothing that moved, that happened afterwards. I think, maybe, the spirits could be fueled by our acknowledgement maybe? The more fearful we are, the stronger they are?" She slit her eyes and frowned, wanting his opinion it.

"What do you think about that?" She laughed. "Stupid?" She chuckled again and looked at the toaster and grabbed the four slices and put two on a plate for both of them, followed by eggs and bacon.

"It's like the more you learn, the more..I dunno...they come out?"

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley sighed. He didn't know all that much about ghosts or anything, but he supposed that was logical. He shook his head, not answering for a long time. He was trying to center his thoughts. They were everywhere at this moment. Back to when he saw the clown in the bedroom, to the hands under the door, the eyeballs in his tea, the woman in the bed, the charred room...he couldn't believe any of this was real at all. He didn't understand how this place could exist in the real world. In the logical place they lived in.

"I don't know," he said, looking up at her. "I don't know that much about this kind of thing...it's logical enough, I suppose. I'm still trying to get my brain to catch up with what I'm seeing...I still don't want to believe any of this," he said, sighing heavily. He thanked her quietly as she handed him food. He was hungry, but he looked at the food for a long time before convincing himself that it was alright to eat.

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy picked at her food for a moment before figuring she made it and it would be fine. Hopefully it would be, she didn't want Wesley to think of her as a horrible cook. She breathed in a ate quickly, in case it would change she'd not have to know about it until it was already in her stomach. She thought long nad hard about logical explanations, but she figured it was long passed the time to actually think logically. This was just plain, ridiculous.

"What do you feel like doing today, dear?" She leaned fowards on the island and looked at him. This felt odd, like these two were dating or something, it kinda felt nice, but she wasn't about to admit that to anyone just yet. She just figured she liked him because he was there helping her and being her protector, in a way, and it gave him the hero effect.

"We can go look at more rooms, if we are lucky we might see mister shivers the clown with his big red nose." she smiled, that wasn't funny to think about, but you had to admit a clown running amuck in a large house was almost on the verge of being humorous, except this clown wasn't in it for laughs.

"Later on we can go in the basement if you want, check out that said walled off passageway or something. Up to you. You are the guest."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley began to eat, and found it was actually pretty good, considering it was made in this house. But he figured Poppy was a pretty good cook, and it tasted good, so he ate quickly just in case. He watched his plate for a long time, a little tire sneaking in. But he overcame it. He had become a master of staying up late recently. He sighed, finally, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the new pack of cigs he'd bought on his way back here from the library.

He stuck one between his lips and lit it, sucking in the airborne cancer with relish. He loved a cigarette in the morning, he couldn't help it. For the time being, the house was completely quiet. Nothing crazy was making noises, no doors slamming, no hands coming from wells, no clowns grinning back from the doorways. It was just like the night had been a bad dream, and now he and Poppy were awake and enjoying a nice breakfast and coffee with nice conversation.

It felt normal for once the whole night. He sighed out some smoke.

"Yeah, checking out this fun house will be nice..." he paused. "Well, not nice, but we might as well go for it..."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy smiled as she scooped around on the bit sof eggs left on the plate, she looked up at him smoking and she bit back a smile.

"I got your drift." She said with a nod, taking her plate and putting it into the sink. She turned around and looked at him and shrugged. "We can pick up where we left off, just minus the clown and crispy critter." She ran her tongue across her teeth as she walked back over to the island, looking at him.

"You need to get some sleep." SHe said wto him with a concerning look. "You look so tired, plus you've been up for lord knows how long." She smiled and touched his arm. "I really do aprreciate you coming here, I don't know if I've told you that or not." She smiled. "I am sure you'll want a lot of money after this, if not to cover my late night calls, but to pay for your therapy sessions as well."

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley smiled, looking up at her. He stood and put a hand on her arm. He squeezed lightly, looking down at her. He just then noticed that she had the most beautiful brown eyes. In fact...she was quite pretty. He supposed in all the chaos, and seeing her tired and angry and frightened and masked how attractive she actually was. He smiled a little more broadly.

"I don't want any money, Poppy," he muttered. "I'm just glad you dragged me down here before something bad happened to you," he said, and it was truth. He sighed a little. "I'm sorry for not believing you. I should have trusted you, I could tell you weren't crazy," he said, his smiled fading a little. After a long moment, he dropped his hand and stepped back a little, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. He sighed out the toxins. Then he laughed a little.

"As for sleep, I'm tired, but if I sleep now, I'll lose my brave streak," he said. He smiled. "Besides, after all this is over, I've got vacation time coming, I'll probably be sleeping more than I need."

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy laughed lightly, she liked the way he touched her, it felt strong, masculine, she wasn't sure she just liked it, then again she liked many weird things.

"Sounds like you have a plan." She said taking his empty plate and putting it into the sink. "Sleep does sound nice, but I fear what I'll see when I wake up." She moved around the island and looked out into the lobby, so far so good, save a little bathroom troubles.

"I would ask for money though." She said with a smile, looking over her shoulder to see something peering out the small wooden slats, slowly blood began to trickle onto the white doorway where she saw...something.

"Wesley..." She nodded in the direction of the pantry.

[Wesley Paige]

"Yeah, I see it too..." he muttered. The slatted pantry door was dripping a little blood through the slats, and he could see something inside...but...he didn't know what. Nor did he particularly want to go over and find out. He swallowed. "So much for the kitchen being a safe haven..." he muttered. He watched the...whatever it was, carefully, waiting for something really crappy to happen. Like, it jump out and scream "Boo!"

But nothing happened. Blood just began to slowly pool at the bottom of the door. Wesley watched the pool get bigger slowly. And that was a lot of blood. A lot of blood. He thought, racking his brain. He couldn't remember reading about anybody who had died in the kitchen pantry. He didn't think anybody had been stashed there, either, but then again, he was missing a lot of the history before the eighteen hundreds. It could have been literally anything. Besides the things that weren't documented. He squited, trying to make out what was in there through the slats.

"What...is that?"

[Poppy Hawthorne]

Poppy was by his side within two seconds, grabbing onto her favorite thing, his arm. She watched the blood begin to spill out all over the floor and soon it would be under their feet and she wasn't particularly in the mood to have blood soaked pants and feet today.

"Last time we waited to see, we got a surprise by the charcoal lady. I definitely don't think this would be any better." She said to him, tugging on him to leave the room and pretend this never happened. The door began to rattle and her eyes went to the knob turning.

"Okay, it's turning, it's getting out, I don't wanna see, Wesley, I just...I don't." She saw a bloody hand grab the side of the door and she immediately knew, this would not be the kind of thing to wait around and see what it did.

[Wesley Paige]

Wesley highly agreed. He started to back out as the hand pushed out farther. He nodded, grabbing Poppy's hand and walking swiftly out of the kitchen. At the rate that thing was moving, it wouldn't be following too awful fast, but he would still rather be safe than sorry and get a headstart on it. Except...there was nowhere to go. The living room was right off of the kitchen, so it would easily be able to drag itself in. And the upstairs he hadn't gotten enough courage to venture to yet.

Wes glanced back at the kitchen door. He heard something hit the floor. Hard. It made the sound of a...body hitting the floor. And there were awful sounds coming from inside. He could slightly see the open pantry door from where they were standing in the living room, and he could see blood still dripping from it. But whatever had been in the pantry was out now. And Wesley didn't particularly want to find out what it was.