Lost To The Devil

It was one of those rare, almost unbelievably hot days in England’s capital, London. Sunlight spilled over rooftops, turning the grey city into something softer, warmer, almost golden. Heat clung to the air, heavy and unmoving, pressing against my skin like a second layer. It was just me and my, mother, Nadia, and we lived in a two-bedroom small house with our cat, shadow. Well, we used to, things were changing. Mum landed a new job as an architect six months ago and was doing so well that, she had already been given a pay rise. On top of that she still worked night shifts as a nurse in an elderly home; the faint smell of antiseptic and lavender always lingered on her clothes when she came back in the early hours. Two years down the line, with hard saving, sacrificing, and barely sleeping had finally paid off. We were now standing in her dream home at an absolute bargain price. Shifting the last of the boxes into our new home, I was absolutely dripping with sweat from the sweltering heat. My clothes stuck uncomfortably to my back, and my hair clung to my neck in damp strands. The air was thick, suffocating, with not even the slightest breeze to cut through it. I had to go rummage through the boxes until I found a glass to fill up with water. I was looking out the kitchen window while I took gulps of my water, and I could see why Mum had fallen in love with the place. It had its own big garden that stretched out further than I’d expected, with neatly cut grass and flower beds around the edge of the short fencing. I could smell the grass drifting faintly through the open window. We could finally enjoy sunbathing in peace together, she had said, but I wasn’t so sure. The neighbours next door could see into our garden, and us theirs, and as if to prove my point, a thirteen-year-old girl and her group of friends suddenly came rushing out into the garden next to ours, a rush of excitement on their faces as they lay down to sunbathe with their cans of fizzy drinks and food, their voices overlapping and laughter filling the air. I turned back to look at the kitchen; it was big and spacious, far bigger than what we were used to, enough for our dinner table and chairs to go at one end of the room. The cupboards and countertops were a light beech wood colour, making the room seem bright and airy. The living room next door down the hall was big too. Mum had already set our cream sofa where she wanted it and was now standing on a chair, busy attaching the flat TV screen up onto the wall. She was a handy woman, my Mum. The floor was light beech wood matching the kitchen, and the curtains were a soft cream, filtering the sunlight into a gentle glow. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, catching the light and scattering it in tiny prisms across the walls. Everything felt expensive and elegant. It was all left by the last owners. Upstairs I made my way to the bedroom I would be staying in and was again pleasantly surprised at how big it was. The same colour scheme followed through, cream curtains and beech wood flooring. The light shade was also cream, while the walls were a milky coffee, as were the living room walls and I was going to assume Mum’s room as well. Looking in there, I smiled. I was right; it was like the last owner had been obsessed with just these few colours, but it did give the rooms a bigger feel to them with all the light colours. The most colourful room was the bathroom, again, surprisingly large with a toilet and sink on one side and a bath with an added shower to it. The room was painted a warm plum colour. It took only a week for me and Mum to unpack everything and put it all in its place, and the house finally looked amazing, shadow even had his own bed and big tower den with a scratching post that he liked to hide in. We hadn’t moved too far, but it was still far enough that I now had to get a bus to college. I was heading out the door for my art course in college when Mum called me back to the kitchen. “Grace!” I paused, stepping back into the kitchen. She was already halfway out herself, keys in hand and her hair tied back loosely. “I forgot to tell you, I won’t be here later as I have my nursing shift tonight. I’ll leave some money on the kitchen table so you can order a pizza or something, ok? I’m a bit behind on the food shop, so I’ll have to get food in tomorrow.” I sighed inwardly; I already knew she would be working tonight because it was a Monday, and her only days off were Wednesday and Saturday, sometimes a Sunday. “Yeah, ok, Mum, see you later.” I smiled and then rushed out the door to catch the bus before I missed its 8:30 time. College was always the same for me. I would arrive on time, work until lunchtime, grab some food, and find a quiet table in the corner somewhere. If I couldn’t find a spot, I would take it outside and sit on a bench or any quiet place I could find. I had no friends at all. There wasn’t anything wrong with me as such; I had long locks of black hair that flowed down my back, dark blue eyes, lips that were naturally flushed red, and I was slender for someone who was only five foot one. Today I wore a baby blue thin jumper, skinny jeans, a light beige thin hooded jacket on top, and pair of Vans shoe trainers. The hot weather from yesterday had disappeared like it never even existed. Typical England. I wasn’t even really a shy person, but I did enjoy my own company and just getting on with things, so I was alone and content during lunch until class started again. I finished college at five and made my way back home. The ten-minute walk from the bus stop to the house was an icy, cold, and windy walk back. It was May, but apparently that didn’t matter to this country, as the dark grey clouds proved. I spent the walk wishing I could be somewhere warm for a change, like Spain. After homework later that evening around six thirty, I went downstairs to the living room where the house phone was and ordered the pizza. Phone calls, for some reason, terrified me. I couldn’t tell you why. I think perhaps it was because I couldn’t see what that person was really thinking or something. Whatever it was, it took me ten whole minutes, like full-on pacing and talking myself into doing it, anxiety tightening in my chest, picking the phone up, and rehearsing what I was going to say in my head before dialling the number. Staring at the number on the card in my hand, I finally, finally did it and was super proud of myself. While I ordered my chicken and pepperoni pizza, I found it near impossible to hear the reply as Mum’s stereo blasted to life upstairs, the volume rising louder and louder until it must have been at full volume. “What the—” Ending the call, I assumed Mum must have come back without me noticing. Storming upstairs, I pushed open her bedroom door; it was empty. The stereo blared at full volume, the sound vibrating through the floor beneath my feet. A chill prickled across my skin. I turned it off only to hear the TV downstairs turn on. I froze. “She must have been in the toilet and just missed me,” I tried reasoning with myself under my breath, but when I went downstairs, the living room was empty. The TV played loudly, filling the room with flickering lights. I knew it most definitely had been off when I’d been in there. Freaked out, I reasoned it must be the electrics playing up or something, or perhaps something had fallen on the control. I decided to keep the TV on for comfort; I didn’t want to be in absolute silence right now only to scare myself silly if I heard another sudden noise. I was halfway through the film Meet the Parents and felt much more relaxed by then when the doorbell rang. I got up to answer it, and taking the pizza, I paid the man, shut the door, and went straight to the living room, eating out of the pizza box. The film finished, and I was full from pizza when the doorbell rang again. Getting up to answer, I was confused to find no one standing at the door. Stupid kids, I shut the door and went to the kitchen to grab a drink. Again the doorbell rang, and this time I ran to answer it, but again nobody was there. It was half ten by now, and I was freaked out. What if it was some serial killer or r****t? But when I went and looked outside through Mum’s bedroom window for anything strange, I saw nothing. A cold, creeping unease settled into my chest. Her window looked out to our front door and the street below, and I nearly c.rapped myself, quite literally, when the bell went off again. I was still looking down there, and no one was there. I could see very clearly from here, and I felt a shiver run up my spine. Maybe the place is haunted, but it was far from being haunted by a ghost, as I was soon to find out.