—
Sarah found out about Joe and me, and we had screaming fights about him for weeks. She turned thewhole townagainst us. I’d never exactly been liked in our hometown, but this was different. I washatednow.Even Gina Hampton, the nice lady I worked with at Kmart, was cold with me.
That afternoon on August 5, 2015…I’d just wanted to knock some sense into Sarah. She had no clue what it was like to be despised. If she’d justfucking get over it, we could all move the hell on. But no.
Mum was at work. Joe was at home. Sarah and I were yelling at each other in our garage. And all I could think about was howniceit must be to be Sarah. Howniceto have the whole town adore you. How nice to have Mum always on your side. How nice that even our aunties adored you and your brilliant one-liners and your answers and…
I don’t know how it happened. I think Sarah actually struck me first. And then I was on top of her, my hands around her neck, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
I staged her suicide. Joe and I left town.
I hear a faint crashing noise coming from downstairs. It sounds like breaking glass. I lift my head briefly, wondering if I misheard it, but Idon’t care enough about anything else right now except my baby sister. Truthfully, I’ve missed her so much. Bloody Joe wasn’t worth it at all. Men never are. And now, she’s back from the dead. How?
“You’re the one who’s been leaving the notes.”
I swallow hard, remembering them all.Don’t forget to take your meds. Would be a shame if someone found out who you really were…
“Sarah…” I begin uneasily, “Have you been in the house all along?”
She opens her mouth to say something but freezes instead. I’m about to ask what’s wrong, when I hear it, too. There’s a creaking sound coming from downstairs.
“Lizzy,” she says, “I didn’t write those notes.”
Creak, creak, creak.My stomach ties itself in anxious knots and my head pounds harder. I have no idea what’s going on, but I know it’s bad.
Urgently, she says, “They’re coming…”
The note.
My name is Amanda Vale.
There’s something wrong with this house. No one believes me…
Oh God. I grab Sarah hard.
They come at night…
“Who comes at night?” I ask frantically, eyes darting behind me. I grip her hand tighter, whispering urgently, “Who’s been tormenting me?”
But my sister purses her lips into a severe line and backs away with scared, wide eyes. I freeze, and she clasps my hand. We both hear it. Footsteps underneath the attic. Whoever it is, they know we’re up here.
She whispers, “Someone’s coming, Lizzy. They’re coming for you. For us.”
No, no, no. I’m not losing my sister again. I drag Sarah to the back of the room. “Wait here,” I whisper, leaning down, fumbling in the dark.
Creaaaak.God. I glance over my shoulder, frozen in horror. Someone’s opening the attic pulley. The stairs unfold, emitting a strangled sound. For a long, heart-stopping moment, we wait. The pounding in my head is so bad now. It feels like someone’s slamming it against a door over and over.
Then, someone calls, “Sarah? I’m coming for you.”
Behind me, Sarah gasps. The whites of her eyes shine in the dark, and I stare helplessly as the person begins climbing the attic stairs.
“Lizzy,” my sister cries, reaching for my hand, “help me!”
Help me. Help me. I will. I will this time. I failed my sister once. I will not fail her again. With a desperate cry, I drop to my knees. The edge of Sarah’s nightgown brushes my face as I thrust my hand under the cradle.
“Hurry, hurry,” Sarah whispers, clutching at my shoulder. “Please, Lizzy, they’re coming!”
The footsteps grow louder up the stairs. They’re about to burst into the attic and take my sister away from me. Rage and pain cloud my thoughts. My head hurts, God it fucking hurts so bad. My fingers reach desperately until they brush cool metal, and I nearly cry with relief. I grasp the hammer in my fist, get quickly to my knees. Too fast. Too fast. My vision swims, my head pulses, I choke back a cry of pain. My fist clenches around the weapon, and all I want to do is bash my own damn skull with it. Anything to get rid of thisfuckingpain.
