The next morning, Hannah’s face was pale and there were dark patches under her eyes. She didn’t look like she had slept very well.

When we were leaving for school, Hannah said, ‘Cassie, do you ever hear things in your wardrobe?’

‘Like what?’ I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

‘Like, um, banging?’ Hannah looked at me sideways.

I shrugged, but I felt bad. Should I tell Hannah it was me? I didn’t want her to stop talking to me again.

‘No,’ I said, feeling guilty.

Hannah frowned down at her feet as she walked.

‘It’s probably nothing,’ I said hopefully.

That was it. I decided to stop knocking in the wardrobe. No more games. Then Hannah would stop being scared. And if she never knew it was me in the wall, she would keep talking to me.

Perfect.

But the next morning, Hannah looked even worse. I had stopped banging, but Hannah was still scared.

At breakfast on the third morning, Hannah was so tired she looked sick.

Mum kept frowning as she watched Hannah. But Hannah was too tired to notice us watching her. She buttered a piece of toast and tried to cut it with her knife upside-down. Hannah looked down at her knife as though she didn’t understand why it wasn’t cutting.

‘Hannah, are you OK?’ Mum said.

Hannah nodded and picked up her whole piece of toast to eat.

‘Maybe you should stay home today,’ Mum said.‘Have a rest in bed.’

‘Bed? No.’ Hannah looked scared. ‘I’m OK, Mum.’

She put down the toast after one bite.

On the way to school, I felt like I had to look after Hannah rather than the other way around. I steered her around some dog poo on the footpath. She would Is Hannah OK? have stepped in it for sure. I checked for cars as we crossed the road.

When we made it to my school, I watched Hannah walk slowly towards the high school. When would Hannah stop feeling frightened?

I had stopped banging days ago. Why was she still scared?

That night, I lay in bed worrying about Hannah. It was late, but Hannah had only just gone to bed.

I wished I could help Hannah without making her angry with me.

After a while, I climbed out of bed and slid into my secret spot. I wanted to check on Hannah.

It was completely dark and quiet. I listened carefully. Was Hannah asleep?

Just quietly, I could hear Hannah sobbing in her bed. She wasn’t sleeping, she was crying!

I had to tell Hannah the truth.

Even if she stopped talking to me again, I had to tell her. Anything was better than this.

I slipped out of the secret spot and went to Hannah’s bedroom door. But I didn’t knock. I didn’t want to scare her even more.

‘Hannah,’ I said.‘Are you awake?’

I heard her sniffing and sitting up in bed, but she didn’t turn on the light.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked as I walked into Hannah’s room.

Suddenly Hannah started crying properly.

‘I’m so scared,’ she said between sobs.

I reached over and hugged her. But now Hannah was crying harder — deep, painful sobs that shook her whole body.

‘It’s OK, Hannah,’ I said. ‘Don’t be scared.’ I curled her hair behind her ears. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’

But Hannah kept sobbing as though she hadn’t heard me. I had to calm her down.

‘Come into my room,’ I said. ‘You can sleep with me in my bed.’

That helped.

‘OK,’ said Hannah between sobs. ‘But don’t tell Mum.’

‘OK,’ I whispered. I picked up Hannah’s pillow and took her hand. I led her into my bedroom.

I knew I had to tell Hannah what I’d done. But once I did, she wouldn’t talk to me for a very long time.