The Forbidden Room 01 - The Forbidden Room

THE FORBIDDEN ROOM

The Forbidden Room – Book One

J P Barnaby

P. O. BOX 462, Griffith, IN 46319

Http://www.jpbarnaby.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

The Forbidden Room

Copyright © 2009 J. P. Barnaby Edited by: Valerie Waitt

Cover photograph: Copyright © 2009 Christopher Helfin Cover model: Casey St. Clair

All rights reserved. Except for the use of brief quotations in any review or critical article, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented including xerography, photocopying, scanning and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval is forbidden without the prior written permission of:

J. P. Barnaby,

P. O. BOX 462, Griffith, IN 46319

http://www.definatelystaying.com

Any similarity to actual persons, events, or existing locations is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgements:

To PB for covering her eyes with one hand while she patted me on the back with the other.

To JJ for loving me for most of my life, and encouraging me every step of the way.

To PT for teaching me some of life’s most valuable lessons.

To VF for kicking my ass, for keeping me on track, and for being such a great friend.

To KP for being so supportive in my quest to become published.

To LL for being my favorite technical support representative.

Thank you so much to everyone who believed in me, and in this book – it is because of you that it now has permanence.

Chapter 1

The Ad: 26 year old SWM seeking disciplined roommate to split 5 BR house. Utilities included.
Male pref. Call for appt.

I had been looking for a place to live for weeks. As a senior, I needed to be able to concentrate in order to get through my last year, and I couldn’t stand my roommate at the dorm. Ian would bring girls back to the room, scary ones, at all hours and wasn’t shy about what he was doing with them. Now, I was no prude, but I didn’t need to see that while I was trying to write a ten page dissertation. So, in the middle of the semester, when housing was scarce on campus, I moved out and ended up at my sister’s place. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my sister, but I was so sick of being camped out on Kimberly’s couch. Twins or not, hearing her and her husband Josh go at it at all hours of the night hadn’t been fun, especially since I was between girlfriends myself.

With my shaggy blond hair, almost surfer-like in its casual style, and strong, tall build, I generally didn’t have a problem finding female companionship. The problem was my relationships never really lasted. I kept telling myself that it was because of my single minded focus on school, but somehow I wasn’t entirely sure that was it. I just wasn’t ready to settle down and get serious with a girl. With my choices for grad school on the horizon, I needed to keep my options open.

So, when I came across the ad on a campus announcement board, I was thrilled. Would I like to share a five bedroom house? Hell yes, I would. I really just wanted to get off my sister’s couch at this point. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number on the flyer.

“Bryant.” a terse voice, strong, but pleasant answered on the second ring.

“Uhm, hi. I saw your flyer posted on campus and was wondering if you’re still looking for a roommate?” I inquired in a rush.

“I am. What is your name?” he asked in that same smooth tone, but it seemed softer now.

“Jayden Carter,” I answered, my voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. I suddenly felt shy and awkward for a reason I couldn’t quite identify.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Do you drink, smoke, or do any kind of illicit drugs?” he asked dryly.

“Occasionally at social functions, no, and no,” I replied, trying not to laugh. The questioning went on for a few minutes as he was curious about my employment status; and my post college plans, which I assumed he wanted to know in order to determine my length of stay.

It was almost like a job interview. But, I guess if someone is going to live in your home with you, you’d want to know more about them. In fact, I’d probably want to know more about the guy in the next bedroom than the guy in the next cubicle. We made arrangements for me to come by his house the next day to tour the property, and fill out a rental application. I couldn’t imagine that I wouldn’t like the house, but I wasn’t too sure about Ethan. From his demeanor on the phone, he appeared to be a little uptight.

Words nearly failed me as I walked up to the three story house the very next day. My first question to myself was what a single guy with no kids needed with all that space. The perfectly maintained house set off by immaculate landscaping gave the impression of a wealthy family, not a single guy looking for a roommate. Full, dense oaks framed the front porch of the colonial blue home set with a darker dusky trim, it faintly reminded me of a Norman Rockwell painting. It looked warm and inviting; I fell in love with the place almost immediately. I wanted this to be my home.

Climbing the stairs of the large intricately railed porch, I could see myself sitting in one of the wicker basket chairs with my laptop, writing my next great paper. My nervousness grew exponentially as I raised a hand to ring the bell. Immediately, the door opened onto a well lit foyer, and the man I presumed to be Ethan Bryant stood framed like a Rembrandt in the doorway. I was surprised at myself for thinking the word beautiful at first. I’m not sure many guys I know would call another guy beautiful, but it’s the first word that came to mind.

He ran a hand through his short mahogany hair as he opened the screen door to admit me. It was as if he was almost reluctant in the gesture. Had I not made a good impression? Nothing in his deep set, unreadable, brown eyes made me think that I was welcome, but I followed him in anyway. With my eyes on his back, I could discern that he was definitely a guy that took care of himself; I could see clearly defined muscles under his fitted t-shirt. I was willing to bet he had a lot of company of the female persuasion. Girls seemed to like that brooding artsy type, and that’s exactly the impression that he gave.

The initial meeting went well. Ethan seemed to be more comfortable talking in person, and I found myself starting to like him. After agreeing on terms, I was grateful when he decided to allow me to move in right away at a prorated rate for the month. I didn’t want to spend another two weeks with Kimberly and Josh.

The following weekend, Josh and Ethan helped me move in. Josh had been a linebacker at the University of Southern California before coming back to Seattle and meeting Kim. His short black hair was barely visible over the mattress that he was carrying up the stairs. At six foot four, he was a formidable guy, but thankfully he was also a friendly, jovial guy. There was always a measure of humor dancing in those brown eyes. He and Kimberly made a good match, he kept her grounded. I could have done worse for a soon-to-be brother-in-law.

The room that I had moved into, along with the converted office next door was perfect in every respect. I loved the earthy tones of the room, the amount of light that filtered in through the oversized windows, and most of all, the quiet solitude. It wasn’t very long at all before I was settled and feeling at home.

Within the first few weeks, we had established a routine. Even though he was a doctor at the local county hospital, Ethan worked normal banking hours. I had a more flexible schedule, but occasionally, one of us would cook and invite the other to join. Generally, most nights we kept to ourselves, enjoying the quiet.

It seemed like the perfect match.

One thing, however, stuck out in my mind and I just could not get past it. During the tour of the house, Ethan showed me my bedroom and office on the second floor, his bedroom and office were on the third floor. While I loved having so much space, I couldn’t help but wonder about the fifth bedroom at the end of the second floor hallway. When I had asked Ethan about it, he seemed to tense up and told me that the room was off-limits. His tone and mannerism suggested that there was no room for discussion on the matter, so I let it drop. Still, I couldn’t escape the feeling that the door appeared to grow each time I looked at it as I headed to my room. It seemed impossibly large now, or it was just the feature of the hallway that continually drew my attention. I found myself staring at it for minutes at a time before going to bed at night. What could be in there that would make Ethan consider it forbidden? Was he running a meth lab? Was he counterfeiting hundred dollar bills? He appeared to be fairly well-off, and I hoped that the money wasn’t from ill-gotten gains.

I was worried about what was going on in that room, but I wasn’t sure what to do about my suspicions. Talking to Kimberly was out of the question; she would just barge in and confront Ethan about my concerns. She was bossy, and controlling, and I was sure I’d just find out that it was an art studio or something, and my relationship with Ethan would be out the window. I wasn’t comfortable enough with Ethan to ask him about it more directly than I had, especially since he’d been nothing but hospitable to me since I moved in. As my imagination caused the door to grow infinitesimally each day, I kept my bedroom door cracked open, so I could see if Ethan ever entered that room. He did not, and I decided that he couldn’t be doing anything too horrifying there if he never entered it.

Then it happened.

One typical Wednesday night, about six weeks after I moved in, I saw movement in the hallway. My bedroom door was half open, and I watched as Ethan walked with a petite brunette, her head down and her hands by her sides, toward the forbidden door. They didn’t interact in any way, but he opened the door for her and then followed her through. Though it made me feel guilty, I listened intently for a few hours to see if I could get any kind of clue as to what was going on in the room, but I heard absolutely nothing. I found that odd, because while I could generally hear classical music coming from Ethan’s room on the third floor, I could hear nothing coming from just down the hall? Why would they be in there and not speaking, or … Then it hit me, and all of my nervous hesitations came back in full force.

The room was soundproofed.

I never saw Ethan, or the girl, come out of the room. It must have been well after midnight when they emerged, after I had fallen asleep. Ethan was at the kitchen table when I came down for breakfast, looking the way he did every morning. Of course, I knew he hadn’t changed in the night, only my perception of him. Knowing that our schedules were opposite today, I found the resolve in myself that I needed to investigate the room. Convincing myself it was only to make sure that I wasn’t being associated with something illegal without my knowledge. Deep down, I knew that it was something more, a puzzle that needed to be solved. It was reverse psychology, by telling me that the room was off-limits, it made me want to enter it that much more. Was he doing this intentionally? Was he playing with me? Maybe there was nothing at all in the room, and it was a test. A test that I knew I would ultimately fail.