019: Hell House

As the rental car approached what used to be The Phelps' property, Kayla got her first glimpse of the house, or what remained of it. The place had fallen into disrepair after she'd been rescued and looked even worse than it had in the pictures Rick had shown her. Her stomach had been in knots during their road trip from Nevada to some backwards town in Arkansas, but when they'd set out that morning, knowing she'd be stepping foot in the place, her chest had gradually tightened. She'd felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack all morning. Now, as Rick came to a stop and put the car in park, the blonde couldn't take her eyes off of what had been her prison.

The Phelps' home was on its own off of a narrow gravel road that didn't get much traffic. It was a two-story structure with a wraparound porch. Years ago, it had been beautiful and cozy; now the white paint had been chipped away so that it was grayer in color than anything. The roof had numerous holes in it and most of the shingles had either fallen off or were in the process. Windows were broken and the front door was only held in place by a middle hinge that was starting to break. Nature had made its claim on the house and it would have made the perfect setting for a horror movie. For Kayla, that's what it would always be – seeing it like this now was reassuring. It was as though the evil that was hidden deep within had bled through to the outside.

Kayla's breathing had gotten heavier as she reached for her purse and jammed her hand inside. "That uh... that took no time at all." Fumbling around, her hand finally grasped a bottle of pills that had been prescribed for her a few days back – Xanax. "Two hours on the road was nothing.... 'Cause here we are." As she tried to unscrew the cap, her hands were so unsteady that she wasn't able to. Frustrated, she threw the bottle to her feet and placed her head in her hands as a headache had formed in her temples. What made her think that she'd been strong enough to do this?

"Breathe." Rick's voice was calming, his hand gentle on her knee as he leaned down to get the bottle she'd dropped. He opened it with ease and shook one of the little pills out onto his palm before holding it out to her. "I was going to say it's just a pile of trash now, ready to fall in on itself, that it doesn't have any real power to hurt you." He shook his head slowly, "but I think maybe I better not jinx us. It looks like the house on Niebolt street – if there's a well that leads to haunted sewers in there, I'm not sure it's wise to go in." He was trying to lighten the mood, doing his best to snap her out of that panic.

As she took the pill and a drink of water, she nodded and exhaled deeply. Leaning back against her seat, her hand rested over his. "It wouldn't surprise me if they ate children." As much as she wanted to beg him to drive away, she knew that she couldn't. Now that she was here, she knew deep down that this was necessary. This had to be done and she needed to see that it was just a house, unable to hurt her. "I just want to put this all to rest."

"Of course." He murmured, trying to sound reassuring. "And I want to make sure it happens. Without any hitches – I'm sure I've covered all the bases necessary, though. So... we have nothing to worry about." He hesitated a moment and then swung open his door, the dust of their trek up the drive drifting in and stinging his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore. He took them off, blinking a few times to clear his vision. "Do you want to check it out first? Or would you like me to get the stuff ready to level it now?"

Kayla had also opened up her door and stepped out, her gaze staying glued to the eyesore of a house. "I think I need to walk through it... see where I was. See it now that I'm not trapped – see that it's just a basement... a basement where a lot of bad things happened." To her relief, the Xanax had kicked in quick and she at felt quite a bit calmer already. "After that, we can make it go away."

Rick nodded, slamming his door shut after grabbing the small backpack from the back seat. He waited until hers was closed and then he locked the SUV, rounding the front to her side. He held out his hand to her after settling the strap over his shoulder. He'd brought flashlights and rope as well as medical supplies, preparing for the worst-case scenario so that they wouldn't be caught off guard.

She took his hand and briefly hesitated before walking up the wooden steps that let up to the porch. Boards were broken and cracked and she made sure she was careful not to fall through one. The front door hadn't been shut and when she pushed it open more, the door fell backwards, completely off its hinges. The sudden noise made the blonde jump as her grip on Rick's hand tightened. "I'm glad you brought those medical supplies." Laughing to herself, she stepped over the threshold and slowly exhaled.

The place was in absolute ruins and Kayla had no desire to go anywhere else but in the basement. Now that she was actually in the house, it felt as though the Xanax was prematurely wearing off. Inhaling through her nose and then exhaling deeply through her mouth, she led Rick to where she vaguely remembered the basement door to be – right off the kitchen, next to the pantry. Biting down on her lower lip and closing her eyes for a moment, she grabbed onto the doorknob with her clammy free hand and opened it up. As if they were in their own horror movie, the door creaked as it swung up. In silence, Kayla turned to Rick and reached behind him, grabbing a flashlight out of the backpack. "Hoakay." She glanced up at him as she turned on the flashlight and led him down the cement stairs.

At least the cellar stairs felt a bit less like they were going to collapse given that they were solid concrete. The lower they went, the thicker the air seemed to grow – it felt almost damp and humid, making the black sweatshirt Rick had on start to cling to his skin. "I've got more than just the gauze and alcohol swabs," his voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. "I've been assured there hasn't been anyone squatting here for a while..." he tried to sound reassuring, hoping she'd get what he wasn't saying. He had weapons and wasn't afraid to use them if necessary.

She wished she could have said that gave her comfort or helped this situation be any less terrifying, but it didn't. She felt lightheaded, the smells of the area making her feel as though she'd gone back in time. The room she'd been held in was right off the stairs' landing. There was daylight shining in from the single basement window, making the contents of the room visible.

Standing in the doorway, looking into her former prison, Kayla was frozen. The bed with the moldy mattress was still there, old bloodstains that she assumed were hers. Ropes were still attached to the bed-frame and her wrists and ankles felt irritated at the memories of them pinching into her skin. She knew they were phantom pains, but that didn't make them feel any better. "Well, he-here it is." Swallowing hard, her arm rested over her stomach that was begging to spill its contents.

"Jesus," Rick whispered, his arms wrapping around her from behind. He could feel her almost vibrating with tension. "It smells like a thousand bad memories..." He kissed the top of her head, pulling the smell of her hair in to replace the rotten stench of decay. "Tell me what you're feeling."

"Everything hurts... my side, my back. My whole body." The headache that had started in the SUV had gotten worse and she just wanted to be at home. She wanted to go back to Reno, be safe in the arms of family. At least when they were finished, the place would be ashes. "But... I'm glad I'm here by my own choice." Taking one more look at her hell on earth, she turned to her husband. "Let's burn this bitch and salt the land when it's done."

Nodding, he couldn't help but smile. "Ah, see now you're speaking my language." He pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek gently. "And nobody is going to do a thing about it. There's a sledge in the trunk as well. If you want to take a few therapeutic whacks at anything before we do."

The thought was tempting, but her need to soak the place in gasoline and light the match was stronger. "I think I'm okay." Even though she didn't feel it at that moment, she knew she would be. The look in Rick's eyes and his hold on her gave her that security. She had no desire to look at that room again or let it fuel her nightmares.

"Then let's go," he ushered her towards the stairs, sending her up ahead of him. For a moment, he stared at the mattress and those dark stains, hatred burning in his eyes as they narrowed. This might give her the closure she needed, but he was still going to track down the Phelps family, even if he kept that little fact from her until it was done.

As she walked up the stairs, it started to sink in that she was free from it. When they got to the top of the stairs, there was no hesitation or desire to look around. She led Rick outside and breathed a sigh of relief. "After today this place and those people aren't going to rule me anymore."

"It's a fresh start," he managed a tight smile before taking in a huge breath of fresh air. The rot inside the house was so thick, he felt like he could taste it, as if it was clinging to his pores and looking to find a way inside. "And after this... we drive as far as we can, find a nice place to stop for the night so I can shower for at least two hours straight." He pulled away from her side and started towards the black SUV, pushing the button on the fob to unlock the trunk. There were three over-sized plastic containers of gasoline in the back – enough that they would have been fined if they'd been pulled over by the highway patrol on their way here. He wanted to make absolutely sure the place was utterly destroyed without a trace.

Kayla joined him at the back of the vehicle and grabbed one of the containers of gasoline. "Tell you what, I'll even wash your back for you." There weren't enough words for her to describe how grateful she was that she had this man in her life. Setting the container down for a moment, her arms went around him as she hugged him close. "I know I say this a lot, but I really love you." He had helped her look to the future and he was going to help her close this chapter of her life that had needed to be done for years.

"Goes without saying," Rick replied, brushing aside the sentiment as he tried to focus on the task at hand. This had to be done methodically, very precisely so that the old ruin would be completely destroyed. He barely glanced at her after setting the other two cans on the dead lawn. Next, he pulled out the tire iron that was usually there, feeling the comforting weight in his hand. When he realized she was standing there in silence, watching him, he turned to her with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I'm just a little scattered – I hope by now you know how much I've invested here. In you. In our future."

"I do." A small warm smile crossed her face as she exhaled. Leaning over, she grabbed the gas can and gripped the handle with both hands. She studied him for a few moments and could tell he was struggling. She couldn't blame him, the whole situation and then actually seeing where she'd been captured was a lot to take in. "I'm going to head back in and do the basement." Turning her back to him, Kayla made her way back up onto that rickety porch, taking a deep breath before stepping over the threshold.

Rick watched her go, marveling at the strength she didn't even realize she possessed. It had taken him years to screw up the courage to go home and the night he'd finally managed it, he'd been absolutely blitzed. It was a wonder he hadn't set himself on fire in the process. The fact that she was able to face her demons – stone-cold sober, at that – was a testament to resilience he envied immensely. He knew he'd be seeing that stained mattress as a featured player in his next nightmares, now that the atrocities that had been done to her were crystal clear in his mind.

"I've got the upstairs," he called after her, his voice surprisingly steady as he watched her disappear inside. He started walking around the perimeter, stopping when he saw the window in the foundation. The frame was cracked but the glass was strangely intact. It was the only window in the whole place that was and it stared back at him, the glass pitch-black in the glare of the sunlight. Without thinking, he swung the tire iron, connecting in the middle of that rotten frame, between the two panes that looked too much like unblinking eyes. The vandalism was actually quite satisfying, making him feel as though he was contributing in some small way to help put his wife's nightmare to rest.

Kayla paused at the top of the stairs, the smash of breaking glass giving her a start before she realized what Rick had been planning to do with that tire iron. She almost called out to him, but stopped. The thought of heading back down there alone was terrifying, but she wasn't going to make Rick look at that room again. What she needed to remember was that she was the one in control. This place belonged in the past; the memory needed to be purged so it would fade. She was going to go back down there and take control of her life – that started with drenching the place in gasoline. It wouldn't be much longer and she'd be lighting that match and sending the house to Hell, where it belonged.