Eleven years old
It’s one of those rare days when I get to walk the halls. My father didn’t lock me in my room, and I’m taking full advantage of it. I push open the door to the staircase and start to walk up them. I like to go to the upper level and look out the window.
Getting to the top floor, I push open the door to the large room. It’s got an entire wall of windows. I make my way over to them and place my hands on the glass, staring out.
This is the best view in the whole place. It makes me think that there is something other than this hell. I can see for miles. So many trees, nothing but woods. It’s the prettiest when it’s wintertime and covered in snow. If I look closely, I can see animal tracks.
But it’s currently summertime. The sun is out, and everything is green. No clouds to be seen.
The glass is warm on my fingers, and I press my forehead to it. Closing my eyes, I imagine what it’d be like to go outside and breathe fresh air. It’s not allowed. I’m not sure why. Where would I go? What would I do?
A sound has me spinning around, expecting my father to be standing there, but he’s not. It’s my imaginary friend. She comes and goes. Sometimes I dream of her. And we’re playing tag outside. Or having a tea party. I’ve never gotten to have one of those.
“Hi.” I smile at her. I love it when she visits me.
The first time I saw her, my father’s friend called me crazy and said I needed professional help. Thankfully, my father blew her off, and I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut about what I see.
To my surprise, she steps forward and smiles at me. She’s always pretending I don’t exist, and that’s okay. Her presence is enough. “Want to play with me?” the girl asks.
“Yeah,” I answer without hesitation. Unable to contain my excitement, I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s go downstairs,” she suggests.
My face falls. “I’m not allowed to go down there,” I tell her sadly. I knew it was too good to be true. “I’ll get in trouble.”
She tilts her head to the side. Her long blond hair is in two braids that hang down her shoulders and chest, only stopping at her stomach. So pretty.
I wish mine looked like hers. I only get to wash mine twice a week. It remains dirty and short. Pieces are always breaking off, and my father said it needs to be cut.
Her vibrant eyes glance at my clothes, and her lips pull back with disgust. I wrap my arms around myself, instantly insecure. “Why are you dressed like that?” she asks.
“It’s what my father laid out for me today.” I don’t get to choose what I wear.
“Why?”
I shrug. “It’s what he likes me to wear.” It’s as simple as that. I’ve never questioned it. At least I get to wear clothes today.
“Come on.” She waves her arm and turns toward the door.
I stay where I’m at, with my arms folded across my chest, biting my lip nervously. “I shouldn’t…”
She rolls her eyes. “No one will see you. It’ll be fun. Come on.”
Fun? I’ve never had fun. “Someone is always watching,” I decide to say. It’s not worth getting beaten over. Especially since she’s not even real. Turning my back to the window, I hear the door open, and I know she’s left me.
“Talking to yourself again?”
I spin back around to see that my father has entered and my imaginary friend is long gone. Poof. Like magic. Because she doesn’t exist.
My father isn’t alone. He has that same woman with him. The brunette who’s always dressed in a tight-fitting dress and heels.
“Did you ever get her?—”
“Don’t start,” he interrupts her.
“Seriously.” She places her hands on her narrow hips. “The girl could be a danger to herself. I have someone she can talk to.”
“I already know who you’re going to suggest, so save it.” He places his attention on me and orders, “Get back to your room.”
