The House

Chapter 3 - Day 1: Drowning in the Rain

My car won't start on the first try... nor the second. 

After the fourth attempt, I'm starting to go into complete hysterics, slapping the steering wheel, bouncing in my seat, the works. 

The engine chokes into life on my fifth try, its familiar purring calming my racing heart, quieting down my shrieks and cries. Breathing almost normally, I step on the clutch. My foot is shaking so badly, I almost miss the pedal. The gears scratch when I struggle to steady my hand while pulling the lever into the reverse position.

"Come on, Belle, calm the hell down..."

I do everything I can do in my freaked-out state to reverse smoothly, but the car won't budge. I try again... and again. I check the handbrake, I check the gears, and I step hard on the petrol pedal. 

No backward movement except for a slight straining of the vehicle's body and shrill whining from the engine. My horror is slowly subsiding, but I'm shaking with almost painful, involuntary convulsions. 

I'm so cold!

I reluctantly get out of the car.

Mud? The car has two of its wheels stuck in mud! On the paving? Mud? How?! Was it there when I parked? Perhaps, probably disguised as innocent dirt. This much, though? Enough to bog down my car?!

"Shiii-ii-ii-ii-it!" I scream. "CRAAAAAAAAIG!!!!" A stream of other, less pretty words follows, falling over one another in their rush to escape my raw throat.

☼

I'm back at the front door of the house. I didn't go down to the utility room to turn off its light and close the door. There are MAGGOTS down there. The place can flood, and they can all die. The maggots, the bugs, the rats...

The rats.

I oddly don't hate rats, I just wouldn't want them to crawl over me or nibble on me. I don't want the rats to drown. I'll go close the door later... when I don't feel like ripping off my skin. Besides, the rats, if there are any, will probably flee if too much water starts running into the little room. Right?

Dammit! It's going to bug me for the rest of the night. 

"I don't wanna go there again!!!"

It is still mostly dusky inside the house, even with the foyer light on. Dusky and not very welcoming, but there aren't any maggots that I can see, in spite of the smell. Besides, I'm smelling worse than the house. There's a vast difference between the fragrance of decay and the aroma of musty un-aired rooms. 

I know that now... first-hand... Intimately!

Holding my breath, I step into the house.

The front door does not slam and lock itself behind me, not even when I've dragged what's left of my art supply box into the house and out of its way. I see that as a good sign and close the door myself.

Fortunately, I managed to gather my scattered brushes and paints and various drawing tools that were strewn all over the patio. 

Lesson learned: Buy one of those durable plastic crates with wheels. The waterproof and Belle-proof kind.

The bottles of turpentine and other breakable items and flammable liquids are still in the car. The cardboard box is the only casualty of the patio accident. Small mercies and things to be thankful for that's what I'm trying to focus on now. Forget the maggots. Ignore the putrid odour of... well... me...

The foyer seems clean enough, but I cannot make out much of what appears to be a living area to the left.

I'm wet and dripping all over the floor, and I'm shivering so badly I can barely move. I shuffle over the scratched wooden floor and the warn scatter rugs towards what I hope will turn out to be a bathroom door.