The House

Note to readers: Everyone on this story is over 18.

This is a story with nonconsent themes. If you don't like nonconsent but choose to read anyway, please rate based on writing style, character development etc and not get to the end and say 'I don't like noncon' and rate it low.

I do not condone noncon or rape, it is a work of fiction.

Enjoy.

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Driving into the old neighborhood made me feel uneasy as I looked around. I looked at the GPS again and it said I was going the right way, but most of these houses looked abandoned.

Great Grandma Irene had been what my grandmother had called a black widow. She married a man, moved into his house with him, he suddenly died of 'natural causes' apparently and she had a new house and all of his money. She did it fourteen times. She never sold the houses, she rented them out as she moved around the country, using the rent money to add to her very hefty bank accounts. My grandmother had inherited all of the houses and the income they brought in. When she passed, she willed one house to each of her grandchildren, me included. All the others went to her grandchildren from her second husband. I'd left it pretty much alone, letting the renters stay and not worrying about the property two states away. Two years back they had moved out and I'd been informed that it needed work before I could try and rent it again.

I had sort of forgotten about it until very recently when it was almost all I had left. I was home for the summer after I'd graduated college, putting out applications. My internship and guaranteed job had fallen through, company cutbacks. I'd opted not to sign a lease until I was sure I had a job and moved back into my old bedroom at home. I'd planned on living there maybe a month at most, but fall had come and I still hadn't found a job. No one wanted to hire me for what I was worth, what I needed to pay back my student loans. The economy was in a weird place, with jobs to be had everywhere but entry level white collar. I'd felt like I could be picky, take my time and find the right one for me. The months had come and gone and I had gotten nowhere at all. My mom didn't mind, she was glad to have me at home, but I was getting frustrated.

I had gone out with some old friends to a new bar that was having a 'Witches Night Out' ladies night with all kinds of themed drinks.

When I finally ordered an Uber and went home, it was too late. The house, my mother in it, was completely burned to the ground. The firefighters were trying to put it out for two days. I'd stayed with a friend for a week, in shock, trying to make arrangements. An electrical fire that started by the dryer directly under my mom's bedroom.

I had nothing at all, just my old bike that was in the driveway and hadn't been burned and the old house two states away. I had my bank account and my inheritance, but the insurance money would be tied up for a while.

Mostly I was just lost and stunned, and now I was in an unknown place with no one I knew. I only hoped that this house was livable, at least until I could figure things out. I needed a place to regroup and start over, feeling like I had to leave my past behind. Get out from under it.

The GPS shifted and I looked down where I had my phone mounted to my bike. Next turn.

I finally saw a single person as I made the turn, an older man who scowled at me on the motorcycle as I rolled through.

The house was old. Ancient. It was Victorian, like the others all along the street and this neighborhood, but it was bigger than most of them. It was also in better shape, most of the others abandoned and derelict. At least from the outside. Pulling into the drive, I pulled off my helmet and sat for a moment just looking up at the house. It was already getting late and the sun was setting. I knew I had to go in and make sure there were lights, but I had a bit of a feeling of foreboding as I looked up at it, then around at the abandoned houses that surrounded it. I wasn't sure I really felt safe here, in this neighborhood. Maybe I should go and get a hotel room until tomorrow?

I would go in and look around, make sure the lights were on, then go back into the town and find a hotel.

That decided, I got off my bike and went up the stairs to the porch and looked around before I slid the key in the lock.

The first thing that assaulted me was the smell. Old and musty, it somehow smelled of pot, very strongly. The second thing was how incredibly cold it was inside. Was the air conditioner on? Did this place HAVE an air conditioner as old as it was? I was assuming I would need window units.

Hugging myself, I started looking around. The hardwood floors were scuffed and needed refinishing badly. There were spots on the wall where pictures had hung while someone smoked in the house, but the ceiling looked solid. No cracks. No separation or settling and tilting in the floors. I was surprised at that one.

The kitchen had dated appliances and there were things in the fridge I was afraid to even look at, but the fridge and freezer were cold. The stove also seemed to work, clicking four times before the flame caught. The large walk in pantry smelled kinda gross, despite having nothing at all in it.

The rooms downstairs were all empty except for the kitchen. The living room, the parlor, the library, the dining room. In the library there was a lot of melted candle wax on the shelves where they had used candles with no holders. There were also drink rings and something that was brown and still sticky somehow.

The upstairs was mostly empty too, dark brown stains in the porcelain tubs and sinks. One bedroom had a full size box springs with no mattress. Another had a twin mattress against the wall. I dragged it to the box springs and tossed it on it, I didn't really know why. They didn't match, but I didn't care. Looking in the closets, I looked at the old wire hangers and a few old price tags on the floors. The third story looked like it had never been lived in at all, or even visited. The dust was heavy in every room, the windows swelled shut. There were no water stains or leaks anywhere and I wondered what the damage was that it couldn't be rented out again. Finding the attic door, I tried to open it, but it was locked. The house keys had no key for it, so I went to the kitchen and looked through the drawers. Nothing but a broken spatula and a spoon that looked like it had been used for drugs.

I sighed and turned a circle, then wandered the house again looking more closely at everything. I would have to go out tomorrow and look at the outside, it was completely dark outside now. Turning off all the lights, I went upstairs to the room with the bed and sat down on it, trying to think. I turned on my phone and started looking through pictures, mostly of me and my mom. Selfies we had taken while cooking mostly, cooking was something we had always done together.

Curling up, I lay there missing her, flipping through pictures.

Bright light made me wince as I lifted my head and looked at the window.

It was morning? I had fracking SLEPT here? Gross! I sat up, looking down at the mattress in horror. At least it looked clean and not stained up, but still. I'd had no intention on falling asleep!

Still, I got up with a sigh and began trying to open windows. Most were swollen and painted shut, but I managed to get a few open to try and air the place out.

I had to call an Uber to go to the store, my bike wouldn't hold all the things I needed. I parked my bike in the old shed next to the house and locked it.

"Nice place," the Uber driver offered and I didn't know if she was being sarcastic or not, so I said nothing. I wasn't up for conversation this morning. I got several things I needed, including bedsheets and a blanket for the bed that was there. I would order one to be delivered later, but for now it would work with clean sheets.

I also got paint and painting supplies, picking colors on a whim. I didn't want boring colors, I wanted something that would cheer me up and add vibrancy to my life. I would paint the rooms, then add furniture to match after I got internet working for me. That reminded me, I got a laptop too. Food was last on my list and I got take out as well. I wasn't going to keep any food there until I got a new fridge put in and the old one hauled away.

Once I got back, I looked around outside again and noticed all the overgrown bushes and things in the backyard. It was a huge backyard, the old wrought iron fence along the back hardly showing through the vines and bushes. I guessed the fence ran along the sides too, but I couldn't see it for the overgrowth.

There was an air conditioner that had been added to the house much later, but it was fairly old. Old enough that it would need replacing before next summer.

The furnace in the mudroom off the kitchen looked newer, and so did the hot water heater. The stubs for the washer and dryer looked like they would need to be cleaned thoroughly before I got a washer and dryer.

Still, overall, I couldn't see offhand why it hadn't been rentable anymore. It seemed fine, very sturdy and intact.

I was curious enough that I looked up the old tennant, the one who had been there last and called him.

"Who's this?" a man demanded breathlessly.

"Hi, my name is Sunny Anderson, I..."

"I'm not interested, sorry!"

"Wait! I'm not a telemarketer! I own the house you used to live in?"

"Ok? So what do ya need?"

"I just had some questions is all. Do you know why the rental place dropped it as a listing?"

"Something about doors being locked and windows that couldn't be opened. I think there was mold in the basement maybe too."

"The basement?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah. Uhh, have you seen the place?"

"Yes, I'm standing in it now."

"Ok, so you know that pantry in the kitchen? The back wall, the shallow shelves? They swing out and there's a door behind them. It's locked up tight, same as the attic door, but there's a bad smell comes up like there's a sewage leak down there. We could never get down there and I didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. Same with the attic. Just sort of wasn't worth it, ya know? I had a buddy that... well, I can be honest, right, been a couple years. I had a bunch of roommates while I lived there. One of them could pick locks and he couldn't get in the attic. Said it was painted shut. The basement door was swollen shut, all wet and bloated, ya know? And it smelled awful when we opened the pantry shelf, so we kept it shut. Ignored it. We didn't wanna have someone come in and look and get evicted because there was something bad down there. We tested it for things like bad mold and carbon monoxide and there wasn't any, so we just ignored it. None of us could afford to get a new place and we liked where we were at."

"Thank you for all the information," I told him, speaking up before he could go on.

"Yeah, cool, no problem. Hey, you gonna fix it and rent it out again?"

"I don't really know my plans yet, I just came to look it over. See what needed fixing."

"Oh, hey. I have a buddy that paints and does odd jobs. You need help? He can do a lot of stuff and he's hard up for cash right now."

"If I need help, I have your number. I'll call, ok?"

"Yeah, no problem. He'll be glad to hear it, he's been looking for something. He's reliable. And clean and all that. Hey, do you need someone for pot? I know a guy for that too. Or, you know, anything else."

"Thanks, but not right now," I told him. "I'll let you know. Thanks again, I'll call if I need anything," I told him, then hung up before he could say anything else.

Awesome.

I went to the pantry and found the catch, then pulled the shallow shelves open. There was a door behind it, no knob and the smell that hit me made me gag immediately. Covering my nose with my shirt, I tested the door to see if it had any give at all. It didn't. It was definitely moist though, and swollen shut completely. And the smell was more than I could handle! Quickly, I shut the shelf, then hurried out and shut the pantry door too. The smell was sticking with me, so I hurried out back and tried to breath in fresh air.

I was going to have to take a sawzall to the door and see what was down there and that was going to suck. I was going to need a really good mask, and probably some hip waders too if the smell was any clue. It smelled like dead animal soup down there in various stages of rot.

Circling around, I went in the front door, afraid the smell was still in the kitchen. Instead of hanging out downstairs, I went up and made the bed while I called to get internet turned on. I didn't want to wait four days for it, but the two other places were longer waits, so I settled.

Instead, I busied my days painting the rooms and ordering furniture to be delivered as I finished each room. Bedroom first.

I ignored the other rooms upstairs, knowing I didn't need to mess with them yet. Maybe I could get roommates? People to help pay the bills, even if I didn't need it. Maybe I could just stay home and cook. Bake. Sell things I made. I liked that idea and imagined turning the dining room into a bakery, remodeling it a bit. Renting the four extra rooms upstairs and even the four in the third story.

That reminded me, I'd have to sawzall the attic open too, see what was up there. Probably animals like squirrels and birds and dead things.

Maybe I would have someone come in and clean that out. I hoped the basement wasn't going to be a complete dealbreaker, not after all this work. I should have seen to it first, made sure the wood down there was rotting and the whole house going to cave in any moment. Wouldn't that be a kick in the ass?

That decided, I went up to look over the attic door again, see if I could just take it off its hinges or if I would have to cut it open.

Starting to reach for the handle to try it again, the door creaked open several inches, the knob stopping at my extended hand.

I froze in shock for a split second, then screamed like a girl and ran down the stairs, completely freaked out. I was outside on the lawn, hands on my knees breathing hard when I realized how incredibly stupid I was being. I had opened up the house, aired it out. There was wind moving and the house was probably settling more than it had in years. It had just settled enough and the crossbreeze was strong enough that it had opened the door.

Steeling myself, I crept back inside and listened. Hearing nothing, I crept up to the second floor and listened, then to the third as I peeked around to look at the door. It was still open, but more now. Wide open. I could see the stairs that led up and the light coming down the stairs was sunlight from the windows up there in the dormer windows.

I stared for a long moment, listening again, then inched closer, trying to see up the stairs. All I could see was a wall since the stairs ran up an outside wall. The ended at the space right before the wall and you had to turn to look into the attic.

I looked at the door, then went back down to my room and came back with a can of paint, setting it between the door and the jamb so the door couldn't close while I was up there. Taking the steps one at a time, I went up slowly, listening as I did. I heard no rustling, no animals, nothing but silence. When I got up high enough to peek over the ledge, all I could see were trunks and boxes and old furniture like wardrobes. I made it to the top and looked around, a little confused. There was no dust up here, it was like the room had been hermetically sealed. The things up here were incredibly old, a century at least, most of them. The furniture, the books, the clothes, the trunks, everything. It was... sort of amazing! Easing through the piles, there was a sort of walkway to get through things and nothing was stacked over any of the windows. I could see just fine, even though the windows were a bit dirty and you couldn't really see through them. There were so many old things! I was excited to start going through them!

I knew it had to wait though. This room was fine, I needed to get the basement sorted.

Leaving the attic, I left a paint stir stick between the door and jamb so it couldn't close all the way. I didn't want it to lock again!

I debated then on calling an Uber or just using my big backpack. I opted for the big backpack, knowing I was only getting a couple of things. The sawzall wasn't huge, but the package the large industrial mask came in was large enough that I had to take it out of the packaging to fit it. I would come back if I needed hip waders, but I wasn't going to waste the money until I knew.

Getting back, it was starting to get dark, but I knew it wouldn't matter. There were no windows in the basement, the flashlight would be all the light there was anyway.

Gearing up with the mask and plugging in the sawzall, I went into the pantry and pulled the shelf open, then stared.

The basement door was swung out, wide open.

What were the fucking chances of that? Both stuck doors opening today?

Today. It was October 31st, Halloween.

Panicking slightly, I backed up, then had to go out to the living room and rip the mask off. I was feeling claustrophobic and anxious. Terror was trying to climb up my throat as I shook my head.

It was a coincidence. That was all. It was nothing. Just the open windows drying out the door so the swelling went down. There was no handle holding it shut, so why WOULDN'T it open with the air current moving through? There was a logical explanation.

Then why was I too afraid to even go look?

I made myself move closer, walk back to the kitchen. Looking in the pantry, I realized I smelled nothing at all. The door to the basement was wide open and there was no smell. Maybe it was the door? Being wet and bloated and swollen? It had dried out and so had the smell?

Inching closer, I looked down the stairs and shone the flashlight down. There was no standing water, the floor wasn't wet at all. It did look dirty, though.

"Hello?" I yelled. "If there's anything down there, you need to get out now! I'm coming down! Go away possums! Racoons! Whatever else found a way in!" I yelled loudly.

There was no sound, it was just quiet.

Maybe I should wait. Get something to test the air.

Was I feeling dizzy? Tired? I seemed to be fine, but what if there was something that I didn't feel until it was too late?

Why was I being such a baby about this? I was a grown ass woman.

Making myself take that first step, I eased down the stairs slowly, shining the flashlight around as I could see more and more of the basement.

It was... a bit anticlimactic.

An old furnace, ancient even, that was no longer hooked up. Tables with really old tools, piles of boards and wood. Shelves with old jars and tin cans. A refrigerator that looked like one of the first ones ever made, huge and bulky with a single handle, laying on it's back. Racks that looked like clothes had been hung on them to dry. A cot that was old and looked like it would tear like paper if you touched it. A huge pile of coal next to the furnace.

It was... pretty basic and boring. The tools looked kind of cool and I was betting I could get a lot for them with the great shape they were in.

Moving along the shelves, I looked at the old tins with ancient name brands and logos. The refrigerator was huge, waist high to me even on it's back. Grabbing the handle, I pulled it out to unseal it, then lifted the door to peek in.

For a moment, I didn't understand what I was seeing and when I did, I dropped the door and screamed, running up the stairs in horror.

Making it to the porch, I scrabbled for my phone and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There's a body! There's a body in my house! A dead body in my basement! Oh god! Oh god!"