Things to see when visiting the Strangelove and Kraft Occult Museum: Possession

After what felt like an eternity spent in the room with the obsidian knife, I decided it would be best to make a break for it. I didn't really want to stick around near the collection any longer, especially not on my own. Clarence's and Jenna's talk of some emergency only encouraged me in this intention. Whatever had happened, I didn't want to stay to find out. I really wanted to go back home where I could finally feel at ease again. Everything else would probably solve itself when Clarence would join me.
I quietly walked downstairs, careful not to make too much noise in the otherwise empty hall. The silence had set me on edge and I was unsure of where everyone else had gone. With Clarence's talk of an emergency, they were probably busy taking care of it. Another reason to take my leave; I didn't want to be in their way.
The entrance hall was dark. Not dark enough for one not to see anything at all, but just enough for one to trip, so I ended up pulling out my phone and turning on its flashlight. The door was right ahead. I quickly walked up to it, ready to open it and dash outside, but found that my efforts in pushing and pulling at it were futile. Remembering the control panel next to it outside, I cursed under my breath. With this ominous emergency upstairs, it wasn't too much of a surprise that the building would have been locked down.
I tried to calm myself down a bit. I really wasn't comfortable here anymore, especially not on my own. Still, I figured maybe I was just making a big fuss over nothing and it would be safer to sit this one out. What other option did I have really?
I decided to go back upstairs and return to the break room. At least there I would be comfortable waiting. As I made my way up to the second floor though, the shouting and stomping started up again. It came from the floor above. I stopped in my tracks, trying to decide what to do. The screaming got louder and louder until it was almost ear-piercing. It sounded like a siren of sorts; so shrill it could barely be called human anymore.
I didn't want to go back down. What would it get me? Part of me wanted to make a run for the break room as fast as possible, but another one wanted to find out. This stupid, morbid curiosity of mine. I wanted to see what could be making those sounds. I know it wasn't a good idea but by now, it should be fairly clear that from time to time, I'm not too big on self-preservation.
Pressing my hands to my ears as best I could while still holding onto my phone, I hurriedly staggered up the stairs and instead of down the hallway where I remembered the break room to be, I headed up the next flight. I didn't quite make it to its top when I once again halted. The screeching had stopped and had been replaced with low murmuring. It sounded like there were multiple voices speaking to one another in hushed tones, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again. Confused, I leaned over to look down the hallway without leaving my spot on the stairs.
The beam of my phone's flashlight illuminated a figure cowering in the corner of its far end. It was a woman dressed in an apron. She had her back turned to me and her hands, on both of which she wore yellow rubber gloves, were covering her ears. Her shoulders were shaking as if she was crying to herself. Was she hurt? She was definitely in need of help.
I hesitantly stepped forth onto the hallway and slowly began to approach her. "Ma'am?" I asked loudly. My voice was trembling.
I was just a few feet away from her when I heard the murmuring again. It was coming from her. I swallowed. This wasn't right. I quickly backed off, keeping my eyes fixed on the woman. It was then that the sight of her clothing finally rung a bell. Hadn't Clarence said that a member of the cleaning staff had gotten injured? Of course, "injury" could mean just about anything in a place like this. I continued to slowly make my way back towards the staircase, not once averting my gaze.
It was only when I felt I got close to it that I was forced to turn around so I wouldn't trip and fall. Apparently, this short moment of not looking at the crying woman was enough. When I turned back to the hallway, I found myself inches away from the pallid, grimacing face of the lady. Her thin lips were parted, exposing her teeth. She took in a growling, rugged breath before releasing the foul-smelling air onto my face. I was too terrified to even gag.
The next thing I know was her gloved hands reaching out to grab me by the shoulders. She tore me away from the staircase and hurled me against the opposite wall. My head painfully bounced off of it and I sunk to the floor, my sight blurry and unable to focus. I tried to get up, only for the woman to press me down again. How she had been able to reach me so fast defied logic.
She grabbed me by the wrist and roughly flung me around, sending me slithering across the floor before pouncing on me. This time however I fought back. Just before she could land on top of me, I raised my leg, thrusting my foot into her stomach when she was close enough. She fell off to my side and I used my chance to scramble to my feet again, but before I knew it, she had grabbed my ankle and was trying to get me to fall again. I staggered, pulled my foot from her grasp and as soon as I had regained my balance, I stomped on her wrist as hard as I could.
She let out a hiss I can only describe as a sound a human should not be able to make. I turned and began to run, trying to make it to the staircase, but was pulled back once again. Her fingertips squeezed painfully into the soft flesh beneath my shoulders. I let out a scream of agony when she pushed them in deeper and I felt something crack.
Then, all of a sudden, her grip loosened as she was torn off of me. I spun around only to find that she had been thrown to the floor. Clarence was on top of her, trying to get a hold of her wildly thrashing arms. I immediately rushed to his side and tried to grab onto her legs, but he shouted at me to stay away.
I backed off, pressing myself up against the wall, unable to take my eyes off of them. To my surprise, it was only seconds later that my husband had gained a firm grip on her. He was below her, his arms locked around her upper body from behind, rendering her kicking and squirming useless.
"HURRY!" Clarence yelled, but it wasn't directed at me.
Instead, he was facing the opposite end of the hallway from where another man was quickly approaching. He looked disheveled, the remains of a once beautiful dress shirt hanging from his arms and chest. He ran towards us, grabbed at his neck to remove the cross he was wearing. Once he had reached the woman, he sank to his knees and pressed it to her forehead.
The woman let out an inhuman scream as her face contorted in agony. Clarence held her down as her struggling grew fiercer, not once loosening his grip. The other man began to speak in a loud, firm voice but I couldn't understand what he was saying. He was talking in a foreign language which sounded a lot like latin, but I couldn't tell for sure.
The woman's shrieks grew so loud that they seemed to drown out all other noises. The man too raised his voice, all the while seeming to restrain himself from screaming. Finally, her thrashing and yelling died down and her body grew limp in my husband's arms.
"Quick!" the other man shouted. "Does she have it on her?"
Clarence groaned as he crawled out from under her, quickly reaching into each of her pockets until he finally pulled out something small and shiny which he tossed over to the stranger who caught it mid-air. Rummaging around in his pocket, he produced a plastic bag. He stuffed the object inside and then tucked away the bag, letting go of a sigh of relief.
Clarence got to his feet with some effort and immediately rushed over to me, pulling me into a hug. "Did she hurt you?" he cawed, his voice hoarse and breathless. "Are you alright? You weren't supposed to be here?"
"I'm fine, what about you?" I stammered, reaching up to touch his cheek.
"I'm alright. Been through worse." He sighed, his voice trailing off into a dry chuckle.
"What was that?" I uttered, looking up at him.
"That was possession," the other man chimed in. He nodded over at the woman who was still lying on the floor. "She stole something." He tapped his pocket. "It's a piece of jewelry I keep in my office. It's not on display for a reason. I usually hide it deliberately behind some books but she must have found it while cleaning. Oughta find a better spot to put it now, I guess."
Clarence's eyes flitted between him and me and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Brook, this is Mr Elias Smith, current co-owner of the Strangelove and Kraft collection and direct descendant of Ernest Kraft. Elias, this is my wife, Brook."
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs Penmark." Smith extended his hand to me and I hesitantly pulled back from Clarence to shake it. "I've heard a lot about you," he added, side-glancing my husband. "Makes me wonder how much you've been told about me? if anything."
I frowned. I was beyond confused. The shock from what I had just witnessed still hadn't quite worn off. I could feel my hand shaking in Mr Smith's grasp. How could either of them be so calm?
"Co-owner?" I finally asked, trying to hide the tremble in my voice. Smith sighed and looked over to Clarence who uncomfortably shifted his weight.
"Wow," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Color me impressed."
Clarence bit his lip. "Brook, if I tell you something, will you try not to freak out?"
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