Chapter 85: …It’s Getting Harder
On the television, the woman eased the front door open. The old farmhouse looked abandoned.
Dust hung in the air. Furniture sat beneath faded white sheets. A grandfather clock stood motionless in the hallway, its pendulum frozen as though time itself had stopped inside the house.
The woman called out.
"Hello?"
Nothing. Only the soft groan of old wood beneath her boots.
Holly frowned.
"...She’s alone, isn’t she?"
David nodded.
"Maybe...maybe not."
"And she still went in."
"Mhm."
"People in horror movies never disappoint."
The woman took another cautious step.
A photograph lay face down on a small table beside the entrance. She picked it up. The glass was cracked. Inside was a smiling family of four.
The father. The mother. A little boy.
And another child whose face had been scratched away completely.
"...Okay," Holly admitted. "That’s actually creepy."
David didn’t say anything. He just smiled.
The woman heard a noise upstairs. Three slow footsteps.
Thump.
...
Thump.
...
Thump.
She slowly looked toward the staircase. "Hello? Who’s there?"
"...Don’t. Don’t be an idiot!" Holly spoke directly to the television.
"Don’t do it."
"Hello?"
The woman climbed the stairs. Holly sighed.
"She deserves whatever happens next."
"Shh... you’ll ruin the scare."
"Scare? She’s obviously gonna-" she paused her speech as she returned her glance to the movie.
The upstairs hallway stretched into darkness.
Every bedroom door stood open except one. At the very end. Closed. The woman approached it. Reached for the knob. Paused. The doorknob turned by itself.
Click.
The bedroom door drifted open. The room was empty.
"...Holy shit... just run already..." Holly muttered. "You just got lucky now."
The woman stepped inside.
"Baby? Are you home?"
David already knew what was coming.
The camera lingered behind her.
Too long.
Far too long.
The wardrobe door slowly creaked open.
The woman turned—
Nothing.
"...sigh."
Holly leaned back with a smug smile.
"It isn’t even trying anymore."
David only hummed.
The woman exhaled in relief.
Bent down to pick something up from the floor.
And the camera slowly tilted upward—
A pale figure was clinging to the ceiling directly above her.
Its head snapped toward the camera.
It screamed.
"Ah—!"
Holly jumped so hard she grabbed David’s arm without thinking.
Holly’s fingers remained around his arm.
Not as tightly as before.
Just enough that neither of them acknowledged it.
On the television, the woman stumbled backwards, knocking over a chair as the thing that had lunged from the ceiling disappeared into the darkness above. She spun in place, flashlight shaking wildly, trying to convince herself she’d imagined it.
"...She’s still looking around?" Holly muttered.
David looked at the screen. "What else is she supposed to do?"
"Leave."
"She doesn’t know where it went."
"Exactly."
He glanced at her.
"That’s your reason?"
"If something disappears after trying to kill me, I’m not volunteering to find out where it went."
"So you’d run."
"I’d sprint."
"Without checking?"
"I’m not checking anything."
David’s smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So brave."
"I never said I was brave."
She sounded almost offended.
"I said I was alive."
A laugh escaped him.
Holly looked over immediately.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You laughed."
"I did."
"Which means you’re judging me."
"I might be."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Funny."
"What is?"
"You picked the movie."
"I did."
"So if the main character is making bad decisions..."
David already knew where she was going.
"...You’re responsible."
He let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"That’s a stretch."
"It isn’t."
"It definitely is."
"It reflects your taste."
"My taste isn’t running upstairs in a haunted house."
"You watched someone else do it."
"I watched it from a couch."
"Still counts."
David shook his head.
"You’ll blame me for anything."
"If the evidence supports it."
"The evidence?"
She nodded toward the television.
"It’s all right there."
David looked at the screen before looking back at her.
"...You’re impossible."
"I’ve heard."
"From who?"
"You."
"...Fair."
The corner of her mouth lifted.
Only for a second.
Then she remembered herself.
She straightened slightly, putting on the same composed expression she’d been wearing ever since she’d jumped.
David noticed.
He also noticed...
She was still holding onto his arm.
"...Holly."
"Mhm?"
"I thought you were alive."
"I am."
"So..."
His eyes drifted meaningfully toward her hand.
She followed his gaze.
For the briefest moment, something flickered across her face.
Embarrassment.
It vanished almost instantly.
She looked back at him with a perfectly straight face.
"I know."
"...You know?"
"Mhm."
"And?"
"And what?"
"You’ve been holding my arm."
"I’ve been allowing you to lend it to me."
David blinked.
"My arm?"
"You weren’t using it."
"I wasn’t?"
"It has been sitting here this whole time."
"So you borrowed it."
"I did."
"...Without asking."
"You would’ve said yes."
David couldn’t help laughing.
"You sound awfully confident."
"I am."
"And if I’d said no?"
She considered that for exactly half a second.
"I would’ve assumed you were joking."
David looked at her for a long moment. Then, despite himself, he smiled. There it was. She hadn’t denied it. She hadn’t even tried.
Instead She’d found a way to make it sound like she’d been doing him a favour all along.
Neither of them spoke after that.
Not because there was nothing to say.
It just...
Didn’t feel necessary.
The movie reclaimed the room.
On the television, the woman finally made it outside. She fumbled her keys twice before getting the car door open, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and slamming the lock down with trembling hands.
Holly gave an approving nod.
"See? Character development."
David’s eyes stayed on the screen.
"It only took almost getting killed."
"Growth comes in different forms."
"You forgive people pretty quickly."
"I appreciate effort."
He smiled faintly.
"I thought five minutes ago she deserved whatever happened."
"I’ve reflected."
"In five minutes?"
"I’m efficient."
David huffed a laugh.
"You change sides whenever it’s convenient."
"I change sides when presented with compelling evidence."
"The compelling evidence being..."
"She finally used her brain."
He shook his head.
"I don’t know how you manage to justify all this."
"I don’t justify it."
She sounded almost offended.
"I’m right first."
David looked at her.
"...That’s a dangerous amount of confidence."
"It saves time."
Their eyes met for a brief second.
Holly was the first to look away.
Almost immediately, she frowned at the television with far more concentration than the scene deserved.
David followed her gaze...
Then, almost unconsciously, his attention drifted lower.
She was still close.
Closer than she’d been when the movie started.
Close enough that every time she shifted, their shoulders brushed.
And...
His arm was still where she’d claimed to be "borrowing" it.
He looked at her hand again.
This time, it wasn’t gripping him.
Her fingers rested loosely around his forearm, absentmindedly fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt while she watched the movie.
She wasn’t even aware she was doing it.
David’s gaze lingered for another second.
Then, before he could overthink it...
He gently turned his arm.
His hand slipped free from her loose hold.
Holly glanced over.
"...Giving up your arm already?"
"I don’t remember taking it back."
"Then what are you doing?"
Instead of answering, David reached down.
His fingers found hers.
Warm.
A little cold at the fingertips.
He threaded them together.
Slowly.
Like he was giving her every opportunity to pull away.
She didn’t.
She simply looked at their joined hands.
"...Oh."
It came out quieter than she’d intended.
David searched her face.
"You don’t have to."
She blinked, finally looking up.
"Have to what?"
"This."
He gave their hands a tiny lift.
"If you’re uncomfortable."
For once...
Holly didn’t answer immediately.
She looked back down.
Her thumb brushed lightly against the back of his hand.
A small movement.
Almost absentminded.
"...Who said I was uncomfortable?"
David didn’t.
He only watched her.
She let out the smallest breath before leaning back against the couch again, still refusing to meet his eyes.
"...You think too much."
"Probably."
"And you’re making me think too."
"I thought you were watching the movie."
"I am."
She paused.
"...It’s just..."
Another pause.
"...It’s getting harder to pay attention."