章節 10: Act 2, Chapter 2
You were now standing alone in front of the door to your great-uncle's room and with a slightly trembling hand you knocked on the door before you entered.
He was sitting in an armchair, the same as the one you had in your bedroom.
"Hi, I'm (Y/N)..." you had to clear your throat once to find your voice, his intense gaze on you felt judgmental.
"You probably don't remember me-" - "You're not (Y/N), THAT is (Y/N)"
He reached out with his old fingers for a picture he then pulled down from his place on the windowsill before he tapped his finger on a childhood photo of you.
you had to smile
"Yes, I used to be so small, but I grew up."
He looked at you skeptically, scanning you with his gaze.
"(Y/N) has a birthmark-" - "Here?" you pointed at the place of the birthmark which has been something of a trademark since childhood.
"Indeed..." he murmured and with his mouth open he lowered himself back into his chair.
After he had composed himself he pointed to the empty chair in his room and told you to sit down, which you did.
To start a conversation you asked him if he would like to know where you lived and he said yes, apart from the house you had no topic to talk to him about.
You told him that you lived in this town now, more specifically in the house he and his wife had bought a little over half a century ago.
"But that's great!" he suddenly exclaimed, saying your great aunt's name as he said that she felt so terribly alone in the house from time to time anyway.
Your heart sank.
"I'm sorry...but...she died a few weeks ago..." you looked down.
"Oh .." he let out, his voice was no longer filled with joy and excitement.
"I forgot about that." he admitted and it was quiet for a moment.
"In the house everything is still the same as it was then, I just put some of my own decorations here and there" you said to him in the hope of raising the spirits a bit and it worked.
He told you a few stories from the time when he himself still lived in the house, he kept asking if this and that was still there where he remembered it and each time you said yes.
This went on for a good 20 minutes until you remembered the pictures you had brought him from the attic, you pulled them out.
"Here." you handed it to him.
He looked at each picture quietly and a smile crept onto his face.
"I thought you might like them better in your own possesion than in mine" You said to him and he thanked you warmly.
"But where did you get that?" he asked, turning the pictures around, his expression suddenly dropping.
"I put the decorations I didn't need in the attic and stumbled over the photo box," you said.
"What else was in the box?" he asked, his voice stern and high.
"And what about the black chest?!" he called and almost jumped up from his chair, knocking over the footstool.
The clutter must have caught the attention of the nurses because two of them came into the room shortly afterwards.
After the nurses entered the room, he only got wilder, thrashing around and throwing the pictures at you.
"You better go" one of the two instructed you and you could only nod in shock before you collected the pictures and just put them back in your pocket.
Still in shock, you sat down in your car, gripping the steering wheel tightly in your hands as if trying to squeeze an answer out of it.
You took a deep breath and wished you could explain to yourself what just happened.
Of course you had informed yourself about dementia and knew that sick people tended to react aggressively and sensitively due to their sudden confusion. After all, you didn't want to meet a man you had last met as a child unknowingly.
But why did he suddenly become so aggressive when you actually gave him a positive memory aid?
What was so special about the chest that he remembered it?
Did you say or do anything that upset him?
Did he perhaps suddenly think that you were a burglar who had broken into his house and was now showing him the stolen pictures?
Maybe he had forgotten again that his wife had died and you were now living in his old house?
You felt like a thousand excuses flew through your head trying to explain what had happened, but they were only excuses because you feared to know what was wrong.
You had already noticed when he looked at the pictures, black spots you didn't remember seeing when you were in the attic.
Your gaze wandered to your passenger seat where you had put the photos at again.
Your hand shook slightly when you reached for them, the schock of what had just happened still deep in your bones and cold sweat formed on your forehead.
You hadn't felt this feeling for a long time, pure fear.
When you got the pictures in your hand you turned them over, little spiders were painted in the corners.
You skipped through the 13 pictures, the last showing a different drawing, a drawing similar to a inverted cross.
You had never seen anything like it, but that only made it worse.
You weren't an active sleepwalker, and you weren't someone who drowsily scribbled stuff.
And the fact that the drawing in the last picture didn't even feel like you'd ever seen it made it impossible for you to explain this whole situation.
You felt like crying.
You couldn't explain what just happened and why, maybe just being alone was driving you insane?
You avoided going home, spent time around town and in your car, but you couldn't avoid home forever.
You had to go back into the house, no matter how much you refused to do so.
You even considered sleeping in your car, but that seemed a lot scarier than sleeping in your own house.
As you parked your car in the driveway, you looked up at your bedroom window, it was open once again.
You left the photos in your car and when you arrived at your front door you had to gather all your courage to even open the door and enter the house.
Something was terribly wrong with this house and you had no idea what.
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