BURNABY, B.C.

Names in this story have been changed to protect the privacy of the individual(s).

In 2008 Carol and her partner, Nathan, decided to attend an open house at a property for sale on Skeena Street in Burnaby. It was a typical postwar style home, clad in roughcast stucco, with two storeys and a basement. It was well kept and set on a large corner lot. Inside, the house was equally well-maintained, with a renovated kitchen and well-lit basement. The more Carole and Nathan saw of the home, the more they envisioned themselves living there, talking eagerly of renovations they could make as they toured the lower floors.

However, it was when they moved their tour to the upper floor that things took a frightening turn. To this day, some 16 years later, Carole remembers the events of that day with a fear that still resonates in her voice.

“[Nathan] was ahead of me. You went up the stairs and there was a landing, then you turned and there were more stairs going up. [Nathan] was at the top of the stairs.”

Following behind, Carole listened to her boyfriend continue to list alterations they could make to suit their needs. After making her way to the upper landing, Carole glanced through the doorway of one of the first bedrooms and suddenly froze.

“I looked into one room and this whole whoosh came up to my face.”

The closest thing she described it to was “being hit with a wall.”

According to Carole, it was a single piece of furniture, visible through the doorway of that one bedroom, that brought upon her intense reaction.

“I saw a bed–a creepy iron bed with one of those Hudson Bay blankets on it. I just saw that bed and went ‘fuck.’ All I could think about was: Bed. Child. Dying.”

As she stood there, staring at the bed, she felt her whole body begin to physically react.

“It felt like I walked into an ice cube . . . something just went wham! Like [I] just walked into a snowbank or something. It just took your breath away.”

Nathan, oblivious to what she was feeling, was already down the hallway, continuing to list changes they could make to the space.

In one swift fight or flight reaction, Carole finally snapped free of her trance and fled from the house as quickly as she could.

“I jumped down the stairs. I didn’t even go step, step, step. I [jumped] down five steps and ran out of the house. There were four steps going out [front] of the house. I jumped over those steps.”

“I just wanted to get out of that house.”

As she ran, she passed other potential buyers as they streamed in. She didn’t stop until she reached the sidewalk, where she began hyperventilating.

A moment later, an obviously startled Nathan came out after her. When she was finally calm enough to speak, she told him of what she’d experienced. The two of them wasted no time climbing back in Nathan’s truck and getting out of there. As they drove, Carole continued to hyperventilate, to the point where Nathan asked if they should go to the hospital. It took nearly an hour until she calmed down again.

“I guess we’re not buying that house,” deduced Nathan as they headed home.