“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, another breath brushing my mouth, “and you shouldn’t have answered.”
He shoves me back against the wall, then takes two slow steps away, then runs away.
My hands fly to my neck, then my lips, then over my face, as if I need to make sure I’m still here, still breathing, that I really survived this. I sink onto the bottom step, one hand clutching my chest, trying to steady the wild pounding of my heart.
Sleep finally comes to me, and after so many days in this house, I feel like I can finally sleep. I feel like I’m floating in the sea, andthe thought of it should scare me, but somehow, I feel at peace. Then the water turns dark, and it pulls me under. I’m drowning.
I fight, gasping for air, but nothing helps. I twist and turn, reaching for something, for anyone, but no one comes. Then through the water, there is a soft melody.
When I close my eyes, I’m sitting on the middle of the floor in a light blue bedroom. The blonde British girl sits beside me. She brushes the dark-haired doll’s hair and sings “Lavender’s Blue.”
“Lily,” I say, “what are we doing here?”
“It’s our room, silly,” she says, still brushing her doll’s hair.
“But I don’t know you, Lily.” I try to touch her hand, but it’s so cold.
“Of course you know me, silly.” She chuckles. “We used to play together.” She places the doll inside the dollhouse. “Don’t you remember?”
I shake my head.
She reaches for my hand and turns her palm up, holding it out to me. “Give me your hand.”
I lift mine and hold it over hers. With the tip of her finger, she begins to trace slow circles into my palm.
I close my eyes, and suddenly I see two little girls running through the backyard, playing beneath the chestnut tree. Their laughter is coming closer towards us.
“I’ll catch you,” one of them shouts.
“Never,” the other calls back.
They run in circles, chasing each other, their shoes tearing through the grass. A boy stands nearby, watching them. Then he calls out to one of the girls.
“Let’s go. It’s getting late.”
But she refuses, and he leaves without her.
At some point, while they are playing hide-and-seek, the other girl falls. The blonde girl can’t find her, so she leaves her there.Something about it feels familiar, like I should know what happened, but I can’t remember.
I see the boy coming back.
He kneels, slips his arms around the girl, and lifts her against his chest.
“I got you,” he says.
And when I see her more clearly, I realize the girl is redheaded.
I close my eyes again, and I’m back with the blonde girl, who is still playing with the dollhouse.
“Lily, is this a memory? Who is he?” I ask.
But she only presses her little finger to her lips as the call rings out. “We shouldn’t answer this.”
Something yanks me awake, and my eyes fly open. I turn to the side and see a white rose resting on the nightstand.
He was here again. Watching me sleep.
It should bother me. So why doesn’t it?
