Héritière sans égale

Chapitre 4

“Yes.” Wendy’s voice was weak, and her pitiful face gave Jack a surge of pleasure.

"Fine. Get out now!"

Wendy left in a panic.

Jack put the paper back in its place and began to write.

He thought that fools deserved the most severe punishment.

Outside the window, snowflakes had begun to fall heavily, blanketing everything in white. The vast, empty white expanse, with no end in sight, stung Jack's eyes. He could no longer find that flowing inspiration; anger had shattered his imagination. He looked away and saw his wife and son, having a snowball fight in the open space.

“No, that’s not fair!” Wendy teased the child. The cold air stung her nostrils, making her a little uncomfortable, but seeing Danny’s cheerful expression, she felt it was all worth the cold.

Her happiness came too easily. Jack stood by the window thinking that next time he caught her, he would teach her a lesson twice as hard.

Saturday.

Heavy snow had sealed off the mountains, and the sky was shrouded in mist. Looking out, the hotel had become one with the snow-capped mountains, and the snow was still falling, showing no signs of stopping. The winter here truly lived up to its reputation.

In the hotel lobby, the fireplace roared, and Jack felt comfortable as he sat down at his typewriter, preparing to work. Wendy would never bother him again; women needed to be taught a lesson.

In the hotel's communications room, Wendy was trying to establish contact with the outside world. She repeatedly plugged and unplugged the telephone line, but none of them worked.

Wendy, smoking a cigarette, walked to the intercom. "This is KDK12 calling KDK1," Wendy repeated.

The communications office received a call.

"This is KDK1, please go ahead."

“This is Wendy Talens, looking out to the hotel,” Wendy replied cheerfully, feeling much safer upon hearing a response.

"Are you doing well there?" the staff member asked with concern.

"Very good. But the phone is bad, is there a problem with the line?"

"Yes, several lines are down because of the blizzard." This happens every year, so the correspondent wasn't surprised at all.

"Can it be fixed quickly?"

"I don't know, most of them can only be repaired next spring."

"The blizzard is really big, isn't it?" Wendy asked.

"This is the worst one in recent years. Mrs. Tarrances, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No."

"If you have any trouble, call us. It's best to keep the radio on all day," the communications officer instructed.

"Okay. Thanks, goodbye." Wendy hung up the radio. Talking to strangers was one of the few pleasures in this lonely life.

(4)

Danny rode his bike down the long corridor, that unease creeping back in. But this wasn't room 237, Danny thought. He'd just rounded the corner when he abruptly stopped. The two sisters in blue dresses stood in the middle of the corridor, blocking his way, their smiles unchanged, their eyes fixed intently on Danny. Danny glanced at them nervously, preparing to run away again.

The two sisters looked at Danny and slowly opened their mouths. "Hey, Danny," they said in a high-pitched and strange voice at the same time, "Come...play with us, come play with us, Danny."

Danny felt a spasm, yet an involuntary urge to follow them. As they called to her, another image flashed through her mind: in the same passageway, where the two sisters had stood, lay their corpses! One lay supine, the other prone, in a pool of blood. Blood stained the walls, and beside the bodies lay an axe, its marks clearly visible. Wounds, exposed beyond their clothing, resembled gaping mouths, still glistening with blood. Twisted smiles lingered on their faces.

"Play with us... forever!" the sisters' voices echoed.

The image of the corpse reappeared before Danny's eyes.

Danny was completely limp and unable to make a sound.

"Forever...forever...forever..."

The sisters slowly approached Danny.

Danny covered his eyes tightly. "I remember what Mr. Harold said, like the pictures in the book, it's not real," Danny told himself. When he mustered the courage to peek through his fingers, he found nothing there; everything had vanished.

"Tony, I'm so scared," Danny pleaded in a weak voice.

on Monday.

The bedroom door opened gently.

Danny tiptoed into the room, peering fearfully into his parents' bedroom. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, wearing pajamas, his hair disheveled, his eyes vacant. The bed and the dressing table against the opposite wall were a mess, scattered with his clothes and belongings—a stark contrast to the neatness and tidiness he had displayed when he first moved in. Jack stared blankly ahead, his mouth slightly agape.

Dad's been like this these past few days. He doesn't want to be close to anyone, so it's best not to bother him quietly, or he'll get angry. Danny thought.

The dressing table mirror on the wall reflected the bedside, showing Jack's disheveled face. He glanced at himself and realized both the room and he himself were a mess. "How did it get so messy? Has no one tidied up the room?" Jack wondered. But then he looked at himself again and smiled slightly. This wasn't so bad after all.

Seeing his father laugh inexplicably, Danny felt a chill run down his spine; the smile was exactly the same as the smiles of the two girls in blue dresses. Danny quickly turned his gaze away, trying to go into his small bedroom, but Jack still spotted him. Jack turned to his son, staring at him sharply.

"Can I go back to my room to get my lighter?" Danny's voice was filled with fear, and he involuntarily stopped in his tracks.

"Come here for a moment." Jack's words were an order.

The child hesitated, but went over anyway. Jack reached out his hand to Danny, who looked at his father nervously. Jack gently hugged Danny, trying to ease his fear.

"How are you doing, Doctor?"

"fine."

"Is it fun?" Jack asked with a smile.

“Yes, Dad,” Danny answered dutifully.

"Great. I hope you have fun."

“I’m very happy,” Danny said. A silence fell between father and son; Jack didn’t let go of Danny’s hand.

"Dad?" Danny called out.

"how?"

"Are you feeling unwell?" In Danny's view, if something is wrong with a person, then he must be feeling unwell and needs to see a doctor. He doesn't understand why a person's mood can be affected by so many factors.

"I'm just a little tired."

"Then why don't you go to sleep?"

“I can’t sleep, I have so much to do,” Jack said. His book was already more than half finished, and now it was at a crucial stage, so he couldn’t afford to relax.

"dad?"

"how?"

"Do you like it here?" Danny finally mustered up the courage to ask.

"I like it. You don't?"

"...I like it," Danny said against his will in order to please his father.

“Very good. I want you to like it here. I hope to stay here forever, forever… forever.” Danny looked up in surprise, listening to his father finish the last few words, forever… forever… Danny remembered the two sisters lying dead in the corridor, the bloodstained axe, and the twisted smiles on their faces. Danny instinctively shrank back, a shiver running through him.

"dad?"

"how?"

"You would never hurt Mom and me, would you?" Danny's voice trembled. His father had once been the safest person in the world to him, but now he was a little afraid of him, inexplicably terrified, and felt that something was about to happen.

"What did you say?" Jack was stunned, his voice filled with anger. "Did your mother tell you? That I would hurt you?"

"No."

Jack was a little skeptical; it must have been that stupid woman, Wendy. Suppressing his anger, Jack asked, "Are you sure?"

“Yes,” Danny answered firmly.

Jack looked at Danny and said, word by word, "Danny, I love you. You're the one I love most in this world. I would never hurt you, never. You understand, right?"

"Yes, Dad."

Jack looked at his son in his arms, and his son's tone and expression told him that he didn't really trust him.

Wednesday.

Snow was falling heavily, and the hotel was buried in a blanket of white, seemingly about to be swallowed by the snow-capped mountains. The sky was overcast, and the snow had blocked the doors and windows, leaving only the main entrance passable.

In the empty hotel corridor, Danny was playing with his toy cars. The honeycomb-patterned carpet was covered with trains and cars of varying sizes, a pre-race warm-up for him. This was Danny's favorite game, but unfortunately, his mother had to check the hotel boiler and couldn't play with him. Suddenly, Danny heard a noise. He looked up, but saw nothing. He hadn't misheard; there must be something there.

"mom?"

Danny walked forward.

"Mom?" Danny called again, but there was no answer. Fear told Danny he should leave, but curiosity compelled him to stay put.

The door was open! The key was in the doorknob, swaying slightly. Someone had gone into that room, maybe Mom was cleaning, Danny thought.

Through the crack in the door, Danny could see a corner of the room reflected in the mirror facing the door. On the empty table in that room was an on lamp. Danny turned his gaze back and noticed the key in the doorknob. The key tag clearly showed three numbers: 237.

Inside the boiler room.

The enormous boiler was running smoothly, the warm steam making Wendy feel comfortable. All the boiler's gauges were functioning normally when she suddenly heard a shout. Wendy stopped what she was doing and listened carefully; the shouting stopped. A little uneasy, Wendy put down her notebook and went outside. This time, she clearly recognized it as Jack's scream.

In the lobby of the workshop, Jack lay slumped over the table, the typewriter in front of him empty of paper. He was asleep, screaming in terror from a nightmare, his body convulsing as if struggling to escape someone's pull.

Wendy ran desperately towards Jack. This was the first time in many days that Wendy had entered Jack's workshop. Wendy shook Jack awake with all her might. Jack was still carrying the momentum from his dream, struggling and falling to the ground. He finally woke up, covered in sweat, his eyes filled with terror.

"What's wrong?" Wendy comforted Jack.

“I had the worst nightmare ever, it was terrifying,” Jack replied breathlessly.

"It's okay, really."

“I dreamt that I killed you and Danny. I not only killed you, but I dismembered you! God!…I must be going crazy,” Jack recalled painfully. He didn’t know why the dream was so real. Was it just because Wendy warned the children to stay away from him? In the dream, the scene was so realistic that it was hard to believe it was just a dream. The blood splattered on his face seemed to still be warm, and the stench still lingered in his nostrils, stimulating his nerves. His arms, which he had used all his strength to dismember the body, were still a little numb. What puzzled him even more was that in the dream, it wasn’t just his family of three; there must have been others, and more than one. But who were they? They seemed so familiar, and his every move was under their command…

“It’s alright. Come on, stand up!” Wendy’s words interrupted Jack’s thoughts. With Wendy’s help, Jack tried to stand up.

At that moment, Danny slowly walked in from the lobby entrance, looking dazed.

"Sit down, it's alright." Wendy helped Jack to a chair. She saw Danny, and it wasn't good for the child to see this. "Danny, everything's fine. Go play in your room. Your dad just has a bit of a headache." After Wendy finished speaking, she noticed that Danny didn't obediently leave as usual, but continued walking forward.

"Danny, listen to me, go back to your room," Wendy said again.

Danny continued walking forward as if he hadn't heard her, and Wendy sensed something was wrong.

“Honey, I’ll take him out,” Wendy said to Jack, running towards Danny. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Danny!” Wendy scolded the child, and then she finally realized why Danny was acting strangely. “Oh my God!” Wendy exclaimed. Danny looked dazed, his clothes were disheveled, and there was a deep wound on his neck.

"What happened to your neck? What happened to your neck?" Wendy shook Danny violently, but Danny remained silent. Wendy realized it was Jack! She knew this day would come! Anyway, it wasn't the first time! He hit the child and then pretended to be completely innocent! "You did it, didn't you? You bastard! How could you do this to him!" Wendy shouted furiously, her eyes brimming with tears. "How could you do this!" Wendy grabbed the child and ran out of the workshop, leaving Jack alone by the desk.

Jack felt a surge of anger watching Wendy frantically flee with the child in her arms. That little brat had fallen and hurt herself, yet she was blaming him—what a self-righteous, stupid woman! He really wanted to grab her by the hair and drag her back, to make that brat tell her what really happened!

Jack walked down the hallway, venting his anger by swinging his fists into the air. If Wendy's face were in front of him, he really would have punched her. He needed to vent; otherwise, he'd go crazy! Interrupted inspiration, jumbled nerves, a locked room, terrifying nightmares, a self-righteous woman, a life devoid of joy, and that damned key to the hidden wine cellar!