The Guest House Hauntings Boxset by Hazel Holmes (novel books to read txt) 📕

waist. She reached for a few at the top of her shoulders, feeling the raised keloids.

They were much older than the bruises she’d received last week, and they’d be around long after the bruises were gone. They were tattoos of pain that she had never requested.

At the time, Sarah was living with the angriest prick the world had ever known, and despite his repeated warnings for her to keep out of his personal food stash, hunger finally drove her to steal.

The bastard had caught Sarah red-handed, shoveling crackers into her mouth to help ease the nagging ache of hunger in the pit of her stomach.

But when he closed his bedroom door, locking the two of them in the room, there was no anger on his face. He simply pointed toward the dresser and told her to open the bottom drawer.

Sarah had received the belt before, so she didn’t think anything of it as she trudged over toward dresser, keeping the box of crackers in her hand. She knew the belt would hurt, but the pain was temporary.

She frowned, her mind transporting her back into that dingy, poorly lit bedroom, her feet crunching against the stiff carpet that hadn’t been cleaned in decades. She saw the dresser in her mind, the faded oak and the dirty brass handle.

Except this time when she opened the drawer she didn’t find any belts or switches. And it was the first time in her life that she’d experienced real fear. A fear that no seven-year-old should ever feel.

She dropped the box of crackers and then sprinted toward the door, pounding on it and screaming to be let out, but the coward scooped her up and tossed her back onto the bed.

The sheets had wreaked of body odor and stale booze, and the man pinned her down, pointing the knife that had been in the drawer at her face.

“It’s time you learn there are consequences for your actions, girl!” He spit the words at her face, and then flipped her to her stomach.

Sarah screamed and cried as he cut open her shirt, but when the tip of the knife dug into her back for the first time the pain was so intense that her voice disappeared. She gasped for breath, spasming on the bed like a fish being descaled.

Her entire body lit up with pain, but after a few the first dozen cuts her entire body went numb.

By the time he finished, her back was slick and covered with blood. She felt nothing as he dragged her from the bed and onto the tile in the hallway.

“Remember this, girl.”

And the memory ended with the slam of the bedroom door.

Sarah dropped her hand, shaking the bad memories from her thoughts, and checked the water, which had warmed, and then stepped into the shower.

The room had fogged with steam by the time she finished, and Sarah trailed watery footprints toward the fireplace as she dried off with her towel.

Steam rose from her skin as she stacked fresh logs over the ashes of the previous night’s fire. She lit another flame before the warmth from the steam faded and then dropped the towel to the floor on the way to bed, sliding beneath the covers.

The sheets were cool but soft against her bare skin. She ran the bottom of her foot against her leg, feeling the stubble that had grown. She watched the fire as she rubbed her leg, waiting to drift into sleep, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

But like the night before, this one was plagued with restlessness. The scars on her back revived the nightmares of her childhood. She was forced to relive the horrid conditions of her foster homes, and fight the monsters that had been charged with keeping her safe.

Morning came faster than it had the day before. Sarah groggily slid from bed, donning the same uniform from yesterday and headed downstairs to meet with an already irate Mrs. Bell.

“It’s ten after,” Iris said and then gestured at Sarah’s attire. “And you don’t even bother making yourself presentable!”

Sarah smoothed her hair under the white cap and examined the dirt on her apron. “I didn’t think it mattered since I’m just going to get dirty—”

“Save it,” Iris said, her tone snappy and mean. “You’re redoing the room from yesterday. When you’ve finished with it, and I mean really finished, come find me.”

Iris stormed off, and Sarah had determined that after only five minutes of consciousness, she’d already reached her daily limit for bullshit.

The cleaning supplies were right where she’d left them upstairs, and with her brain still half asleep she tried to think of where to start. She glanced up at the windows and remembered Iris’s comment from yesterday.

Grabbing a rag and glass cleaner, Sarah pushed one of the chairs over to the window. On her tippy toes, she stretched as high as she could reach, barely able to wipe the top corners.

Scrubbing decades’ worth of filth off the glass, Sarah reminded herself that she only needed to stay long enough to earn a couple grand, and then she was gone. And as she scrubbed she started to think about where she would go.

California sounded nice. She had a friend in San Diego who told her it was always sunny and seventy-two degrees, no matter the time of year. It was stable, it was safe, and it was warm. But more importantly, it was far away from him.

With the top panels of the window clean, Sarah rechecked her work on the other windows from the day before, giving them an additional wipedown to avoid further scolding.

Still on the chair, Sarah dropped the rag and was about to turn away from the window when she saw Dennis emerge from the woods. He walked slowly, dragging a shovel behind him, and he was covered in dirt.

Unsure if she could be seen, Sarah leaned to the side of the window, tucking herself behind the curtain.

Below, Dennis dropped the shovel and then ran his fingers through his hair.