Chapter 5 – Chap 5

I don’t know why, but one of these days, I asked Pandora if she wanted to watch a movie with me.

She seemed pleasantly surprised. “Don’t go thinking of me as a human woman, okay? But I guess that would be cool.”

We watched it together in the living room, Pandora saying “ahhhs” and “ooohs” for everything. Just then I realized that no one ever treated her like someone that might have interests or want to see the world; now that I knew that she did, I both wanted and had the duty to give her some exciting things to do.

After I dreamed of her tragic, story, I saw some flashes of her with previous owners of the farm. Lou was the only one who lived peacefully with her, but he never approached her the way I did.

Maybe I am the fool, but I don’t like the idea of just tolerating each other.

After that day, Pandora started to spend her days binging every single movie, sitcom and anime that I could find for her; and she thought that everything was great, no matter how cliché or low-effort the story was.

Since she didn’t need to sleep, eat anything but the two daily raw chicken meals, or do chores other than to protect the house from invaders, Pandora went through the streaming services’ catalogues in a heartbeat, and I soon saw myself going back to old-fashioned, illegal Torrent.

Her daily routine consisted mostly of watching a bunch of things then, after dinnertime, having me watch her favorite thing with her so she could make comments about it with me; I thought this was really sweet.

Being a binge-watcher myself, we often spent hours in that activity. And I think that’s when she started to really warm up to me, in her own demonic way.

“Pandora?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you and you’re my best friend.”

She laughed. Her face said you don’t have to be extra-nice to me just because you know I have a tragic past.

“Okay, nerd. But I’m your only friend. You’re lonely and lame.”

I laughed too; if she was mocking me with such gusto, it meant that she was feeling at ease.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“What would happen if I hypothetically one day got married and had kids?”

“You’d be lamer.”

“I mean about the house.”

“First of all, you only go outside in those ugly jeans, so you getting a man is not a real threat”, she smiled. “But I think you’d better sell the house. I’m unruly, you know? I can’t promise to not harm more than one person at a time, it’s not a demon’s nature.”

“Would you be fine without me?” I asked, truly concerned. She laughed again.

“Bitch, I’ve been here since your great-grandmother was a cutie and I’ll be here forever. But thanks to you I’ll give the next owner a fourth rule: get me a Netflix subscription or I’ll kill you.”

***

We didn’t talk about specific details of Pandora’s past, as I didn’t want to be hurtful or rude. It must have been really hard for her to even share all those memories with me. I didn’t ask a second time about what she did when she left the house (but not the property per se, as she couldn’t).

According to what that strange demon told her, I assumed that the putrid smell meant that she had been reanimating her grandfather and brother to beat the shit out of them again, but I don’t really know how, or where she kept the bodies. I can only assume they are buried somewhere around the farm, because her nails are always full of dirt when she comes back.

Many of you suggested that I told her about my ex but, at that point, I felt the exact opposite: how can I tell a woman that went through all the seven hells that I lived my life in fear because the man I trusted humiliated and slapped me some times?

I’m not downplaying this kind of abuse. I knew I had every right to suffer, and I knew that I had to leave him, but, when compared to her, it was a smaller problem. He hadn’t tried to contact me all this time, and Pandora would attack any intruder anyway, so I thought it was best to leave it at that.

In other news, I bought her a pair of expensive, flamboyant shoes, and was waiting for an opportunity to gift it to her. I also started renovating the third bedroom using any spare money and time I had available. I wanted to decorate it in a way that looked like a stage and a fancy dressing room, so she’d feel at home there.

And, to try avoiding getting more people attacked by Pandora, I had a personalized warning sign made in the nearby city.

FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY, DO NOT TRESPASS

The house itself might hurt you. Ring the doorbell.

If it doesn’t work, call me: XXXXXXXXXXX

Regarding my poor cousin, I called my mother to ask about her state daily. Luckily, Alyssa’s concussion didn’t leave any permanent damage; her eye was swollen to the point of not opening for a few days, then her vision was blurry for a few more, but other than that she was fine. Even the awful bump in her head was completely gone after two weeks or so.

I imagine that Pandora didn’t hit Alyssa with all her might because she didn’t seem particularly menacing, or because the trespasser was a woman.

I felt horribly guilty nonetheless — especially because the casserole was delicious —, so I spent roughly 1/3 of my monthly income sending her nice stuff like a fruit gift basket, then a chocolate gift basket, some sunflowers (they were her favorite), wines and cheeses from my local farmer’s market, and even a balloon and a plush bear holding a heart that read get well soon!.

Since she was always the one doing kind stuff for others, I hoped that being a little pampered once could make it up for the awful incident at least a little. However, I’ll admit that confrontation always made me panic, so I avoided directly talking to her (and to my judgmental aunt) like the plague.

Unfortunately for me, one day Alyssa’s mother was at my mom’s house and they called me. I was taken by surprise and couldn’t avoid talking to her; I hate sisterly bounds and schemes.

She lectured me for half an hour about how dangerous it was for a girl to live alone in the woods (“It’s not in the woods, Shelly, it’s a farm and you know it’s pretty close to the town”, my mother corrected her in the background), especially in a damn haunted house, and that if I was in such a financial pinch she’d help me sell this awful thing and find a decent apartment to live.

Aunt Shelly made nonsensical suggestions, like having me stay at her place (“It’s less than two hours away! I could really use a bridge partner when Alyssa leaves, and my guinea pig will love the extra company”), making all the family pitch in to help me buy a property that’s not haunted, pawning her grandmother’s heirloom, and even that I immediately find a husband so I can move in with him.

(“Come on, Shelly, you know she’s been through a lot!” “…or a wife!”)

Wow, Aunt Shelly. Thanks for being a progressive crazy person.

I said I appreciated the concern (honestly, I didn’t), but I was really happy there. She then said that maybe the house put a spell on me to make me think that I’m happy and insisted that I leave it immediately; she’d even help me pay the rent.

My aunt isn’t a bad person, and I know that this came from a place of worry, but she can be a handful. Talking to her — or rather, listening to her long monologue with my mother’s director’s cut — gave me an awful headache; both my writing job and the chores of the farm were relatively taken care of, so I indulged myself to a marvelous aspirin-induced late-afternoon nap.

I woke up to a sound that could only be described as a tank invading my yard.

“Holy shit, it’s the Colonel’s Army!” Goofy Voice announced, sounding really concerned. “Sorry for the language, Madam. Please stay very still and quiet.”

“We’ll have to go this time, Miss Melinda. It’s all hands on deck today”, Old Lady announced, gently, then yelled like a general. “Flying-Head Stu, Legless Linda, Burnface, you’re allowed to act today.”