The Skeptic Page #6

No.

That doesn't make any sense.

They told me that it...

- They told you what?

- She fell in our...

in our house in Boston.

Why in God's name would they

keep something like that from me?

- Maybe it wasn't in God's name

they kept it.

There's a very bad secret

in this house.

I know that much.

And if you want me to help you

find it, I will.

But it might get worse before it get...

- I want to know.

- All right.

Then you got to help me.

You got to tell me what you remember

about your mother.

- Not much.

I've never had much memory of her.

She used to fight with my aunt a lot.

- About what?

- I don't know.

- Do you remember the day she died?

- Pieces.

- Did you see her fall?

- No.

But I...

- What?

Tell me.

- I heard it.

I heard her fall.

It's a horrible sound,

somebody falling' down a flight of stairs.

- Do you remember what you were doing

when you heard it?

- I was playing.

Where?

- In my room over there.

Oh, my God.

That was my room.

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

[screaming]

I don't remember.

I just feel it.

- It's all right, Bryan.

It's all right.

- I just know it happened in there

and that it happened to me.

Do you know?

- No, I don't.

- Do you know what it was?

- No.

- [whimpering]

They say that the unknown

is more frightening than any reality.

- Yes.

- Therefore, I should be less scared

once we open this than I am now.

- That's the theory.

- Huh.

Huh.

- Does anything here

mean anything to you?

- No.

I assume it's stuff

that belonged to my aunt

or my mother.

But none of it means anything to me.

- Maybe it's the wrong trunk.

Oh.

Bryan, look at h...

What is it?

- Get it away.

- You mean...

- Get it away!

Get it away!

- All right.

- Get it away!

Right.

- Get it away!

- Bryan, it's away.

What is it?

- I don't know.

It moves, I think.

It floats through the house.

It does horrible things.

- What, the doll?

- It's not a doll.

[laughing]

I'm sorry.

I don't mean to laugh.

It's just, did you see

the look on her face

when we found her hiding spot?

[laughing]

[toy bell rings]

[laughing]

Oh, God.

The look on her face was priceless.

It was absolutely priceless.

- Good morning.

Eggs, coffee?

- Coffee would be great.

- How'd you sleep?

- Oh, I slept like a baby,

a baby that's fearing crib death,

that is.

[chuckles]

I'm not crazy.

- I agree.

- What happened last night, I think,

is that I've been so sleep deprived

from months of insomnia

that when I mixed in the alcohol

and the sedatives,

I made myself unstable.

You know,

my doctor's already confirmed

that insomnia alone can cause

transitory psychotic symptoms, so...

- My God.

You are one diehard rationalist.

- Well, what the hell's the alternative?

Dolls come to life?

- No, they can be possessed.

- Oh, stop it.

- Bryan, you're not crazy.

You're not the type.

Something supernatural

is happening to you.

And your episode last night,

I think it was some

kind of vision spell.

- [scoffs]

- Don't scoff at what you don't know,

and you don't know anything.

You witnessed something

in this house a long time ago.

And whatever is here,

maybe your mother

is trying' to tell you about it.

Give me one last chance

to dig it out, okay?

I can be back here tomorrow.

And if you need me,

you can just call me.

- Tomorrow?

- Yeah.

- You expect me to spend another

night here alone?

I'm shaking at breakfast.

Bryan, if whatever is in this

house wanted to hurt you,

it would have already.

- You're sure, huh?

- Oh, yeah.

Yeah.

[thunder crashing]

- Morning', Father.

Need a lift?

- No, no.

I have a question.

- Okay.

- Who's the woman at the house?

- You've been spying' on me?

- Yes, I have.

- She's a psychic.

She's been helping me remember

things about the place.

- You want to remember that place?

Come on in to the rectory.

What are you remembering?

- We lived there for a time.

My mother died there.

- Where did you find the psychic?

- It's more like she found me.

She heard that I saw something

in the...

- Hmm?

- I hallucinated something

in the house.

I saw my mother.

She part assures me it's just

sleep deprivation.

- You've been sleep deprived before.

Ever see anything?

- No.

- Well, that's interesting,

because I remember

the first time you saw her.

- Pardon?

- Eight days after she was buried.

- Is that true?

- That time frightened you so badly

it led to a breakdown

and to them having to get you away

from the house permanently.

Your father sold it

to your aunt and uncle

and then bought the one up

in Farm brook for the two of you.

- That's what happened.

- Of course,

everyone dismissed what you saw

until something happened to your uncle.

I don't know exactly what happened,

but he became thoroughly convinced

that there was a presence in the house.

- The shrine in the closet.

- That was his.

- Your aunt thought he was a fool.

She was a skeptic like you.

But interestingly enough,

she couldn't bring herself

to tear it down

even after he died.

And then, in the last year of her life,

she began to believe it herself,

said she felt it for the first time,

felt that it was angry at her

for not leaving the house to you.

- This has a history?

- This has a history.

- What else do you know?

In the church,

you warned me about the house.

You spoke of this evil presence.

- What did you mean?

- Have you ever wondered why you

can't remember your mother, Bryan?

- Because she died when I was five.

- Five-year-olds have memories,

unless they don't want to have memories,

unless they're bad memories,

unless they're memories

of being locked in a closet

when they were terrified of darkness,

of being hit so hard with a curtain rod

that the welts bled,

of being half starved to death

because they forgot to say grace

at the table.

- You're wrong, Father.

My mother was a good person.

- You've made her a good person

in your own mind, son.

She was a monstrous person.

I knew her.

And some monstrous part of her

is still in that house.

I would've told you earlier,

but everybody was so afraid

of telling you things

that you didn't remember.

[table rattling]

- Tell me something, Father.

These alleged abuses you talk of,

did you witness them firsthand

for yourself?

- No, they were relayed to me

by your Aunt Marlene.

- Then it's hearsay,

testimony of conduct

not directly observed.

It's hearsay.

- No, you know what's rude?

A child having a liver lacerated

by a doctor who's hopped up

on pain pills.

That's what's rude.

- That's not fair.

- Kid comes under your care.

You know this guy's history.

Have a conversation about how he

appeared that morning.

- No, Jennifer Burckhardt had

a conversation with Dr. March, not me.

- I don't care who it was.

You were aware that he...

- [screaming]

No, no!

No, no!

[gavel bangs]

- You going to object to any of this?

- That's courthouse gossip.

- It's not.

- Hey, partner.

How you doing', buddy?

Listen, um, I was wondering' if

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