The figure sat up in the bathtub. Hidden in clouds of steam.
Christopher stood, frozen. He looked around the bathroom. It was exactly as he remembered it. The foggy mirror. The Noxzema smell on his skin. His father’s shirt resting on the sink. Sweet with tobacco.
“Do you know where you are?” the voice asked.
Christopher couldn’t speak. He shook his head. No.
“Would you like to know?”
Christopher nodded. Yes.
“Okay, but it’s a secret. I could get in trouble. So, come here. I’ll whisper it to you.”
Christopher didn’t move.
“Don’t be afraid, honey. I would never hurt you. Come here.”
The figure patted the tub. Little trickles of blood ran from his wrists down the porcelain in tiny red rivers. Christopher wanted to run away, but his feet moved without him. He began to walk. Through the steam. Through the clouds.
“That’s it, honey. Walk to your daddy. It’ll all make sense soon.”
Christopher took a baby step. A second. A third. The figure reached out for him. The hand was warm and smooth with tobacco stains between the fingers.
“That’s it, Christopher. Come and give me a hug.”
Christopher felt a hand on his shoulder. The figure wrapped him up like a blanket.
“Where am I, Daddy?” Christopher asked.
Christopher was so close, he could smell the tobacco on his breath.
“You’re off the street.”
Christopher looked back into the tub as the clouds cleared to reveal the smiling figure.
It was the hissing lady.