They’d forgotten her, hadn’t they? Left her here to die. Alone. Starving and shivering in the dark, reeking of her own sick. All she’d had to eat in what felt like days were two dried old bread rolls and some greasy sausages, which she’d vomited up. Typical her. Whenever she cried hard, nothing stayed down. She’d always been that way, which explained why she was so skinny. Living with Mum, she’d found a lot to cry about.
Shayla crawled across the floor until she found the jagged edge of the door. She waited there sometimes, planning to fly out the next time it opened. Only, her sense of timing always seemed to be off. Hours, days – she had no clue of time. In here it was just one long, endless, nightmarish night. Then without warning, the door would shriek open and a flashlight would blind her, and a noisy clatter would deafen her as the tin plate hit the floor. While she scrabbled about in the dirt and gobbled her food, the bucket would be taken and another put in its place.
All that stuff with her mum seemed so petty now. Even her mum’s dipstick of a boyfriend seemed tolerable. Sitting in this damp, horrible place had made her see things differently. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her room, plain and boring as it was. At least at home she had a proper bed instead of this smelly mattress and stiff, scratchy blanket. At least there’d been food and TV. And sometimes Mum was okay. Almost nice.
Mostly she missed her rabbit, Mrs Bilby.
Sometimes Shayla stirred in the night, thinking she could feel Mrs Bilby’s velvet nose kissing her face. She’d wake all hopeful and teary, but then there’d be that sick jolt as she remembered where she was. Still trapped in this shithole, no one knowing she was here. Did anyone miss her yet? Were they worried? Were they even looking?
She should never have hitched along that reserve road. Everyone knew it was haunted. Last summer she went to the campground with kids from school, drinking and kissing boys, getting naked with whoever, the usual. It had been a blast, at least for a while. A couple of times they had a bonfire, sat around telling messed-up stories about zombies and psychos, creeping themselves out. Then one kid swore blind he’d seen a ghost. It was for real, man. Floating there in the trees, watching us. You didn’t see it?
Probably just some harmless weirdo, but they’d stopped going there. No one actually admitted they were scared, but they’d all heard the stories; all been warned by their parents.
Spidery legs ran across her foot and she jerked away.
‘Someone, please,’ she whispered. ‘Please find me.’
The dead quietness swallowed her words. As if she’d never spoken at all. And it was that more than anything else – the dull muffled deadness – that struck a chord of panic. Rolling onto her back, Shayla drummed her bare feet against the door and began to scream.