There’s a face on my living room wall.
It was behind the bookshelf. I don’t know why I moved the shelf. I guess since the house is mine now, after my parents left it to me, I just wanted to rearrange some stuff. Anything to make it look less like the place I spent my childhood.
I didn’t scream when I saw the face the first time. I think I should’ve, but I didn’t. I just continued pushing the shelf, trying not to let any books tumble off.
The face is rather plain. It has lips, eyes, a nose, which all follow the curvature of a normal face, protruding and retreating into the plasterboard. It moves, but slowly. Blinking, and occasionally breathing. I don’t know if it has lungs, or anything besides a face.
I have to sleep by it. I spent the first night after I discovered it tossing and turning in my bed, for reasons I couldn’t discern. Eventually I decided to watch some TV in the living room, and was out like a light in twenty minutes. This went on for a few nights, until I gave in and moved my stuff onto the couch. I guess it likes to watch.
One night, exhausted, I threw myself on the couch a little too hard, and felt something in the cushion jabbed me. I looked to see a broken piece of glass, from a beer bottle. Must’ve been from one of Mom and Dad’s fights. I put it on the side table and went to sleep.
Their fights could get bad. Eventually, though, they would find themselves on the same side- against me and Billy. They’d throw us into the laundry room, where we’d stay until they sobered. We were usually there for a while.
About a week ago, I noticed the face doing something new. Its mouth moved as if it was speaking, but it made no sound. I tried to read its lips, but couldn’t. I decided to move the bookshelf back to where it was. I wasn’t as careful this time. A book fell off and its spine cracked.
Maybe my parents left me the house because they felt bad. I hope they at least regretted New Year’s Eve. Me and Billy had been too loud, so we were locked in the laundry room. We waited for them to retrieve us, but they didn’t. We began to get thirsty.
There was a large crack in the foundation down there. Big enough for a child to crawl out.
Billy was brave. He volunteered to find some help. He went through the hole, into the wall.
He never came back.
Even after my parents recovered and called the police, they never found him, inside or outside the walls.
I spent all of yesterday watching videos about reading lips. I once again pushed the bookshelf out of the way, and watched closely. I heard the face’s message, and it was as expected.
I walked downstairs, into the laundry room, just as requested. I moved the old fridge they’d used to block up the crack. And I made my way in.
It was tight. I think I broke bones as I twisted and turned through. I didn’t make it as far as Billy did. But I got close.
There he was, just a few feet ahead of me, practically mummified. I stared at his sallow skin, his skeletal body. I tried to wiggle backwards, but couldn’t. I think I knew that would be the case when I entered.
One odd thing about Billy’s corpse?
It has no face.