The bathroom downstairs has a long line, and Lily suggests I go upstairs, saying she asked the kid who’s hosting and he said why not. I tell her that he might say something different if I asked him, and Lily tells me he can get over it.
I love her fire. I guess looks can do that, give you an inner strength.
Yeah, but she was born strong, and looks didn’t have anything to do with it.
I head up the stairs and get to the top and suddenly feel something.
A cold. A cold like I just stepped into a walk-in cooler.
This isn’t good.
Any time the temperature just changes—that’s not good. That’s like the couple in the woods, about ready to go skinny-dipping, hearing something. That can’t ever be good. That’s the sign—you know it’s a sign—to bail.
But I have to go to the bathroom, so I try and not think about how cold it became. Maybe the air is on up here.
I open the first door I come to, thinking it’s the bathroom.
But it’s a bedroom. A kid’s bedroom, with a lot of pink all around. I’m guessing a girl’s bedroom.
I hear someone crying.
Leave now Chris just leave.
It’s a soft whimpering sound.
The air is still cold. I can tell my arms have bumps all over them from the temperature change. A small lamp on a dresser is lit, but I can’t see anybody.
“Hello?”
The crying continues.
The sound is coming from a closet behind two folding doors.
I open them up and see a little girl hiding there, her arms clutching a big bear, her face buried in its soft white fur.
“Hey—what’s wrong—are you okay?”
Then the girl looks up at me and I don’t actually believe what I’m seeing.
Her face is all bruised and swollen. Not bloody, but rather literally black and blue.
I back up in fright.
One of her eyes is so swollen it can barely see me. Her lips are cracked and cut up. Her jaw seems swollen as well.
She has to be—I don’t know—five or six years old.
I reach out to touch her
’cause maybe deep down I don’t believe what I’m seeing it’s just like that guy in the alleyway
but as I do she jerks back in terror and howls in pain, as if I’m doing something to her.
“No, no—it’s okay. Really. I’m not going to hurt you.”
But she buries her smashed-up little face back in her teddy bear and continues to cry.
I feel sick to my stomach, wondering who could have done something like this to her. I leave her in the closet and hurry away to find someone, anyone, to help this poor girl out.
I’m downstairs and then I spot Lily.
I think of what happened at the police station.
“What’s wrong?” she says.
I’m not sure what to tell her.
Don’t Chris don’t tell her.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Yeah, what?”
I ask her to go to the first bedroom at the top of the stairs and tell me what she sees. Surely she will find the little girl and freak out and find the owners of the house.
Lily appears curious, but she does what I ask. Minutes later she comes back down.
Her expression tells me that she didn’t find any little girl crying.
“So?” Lily asks.
“What was in there?”
“Just a bunch of boxes. A desk that’s not being used. Why—what’d you see in there?”
My head is hurting, and I have no desire to stick around.
“Chris?” Lily asks.
“Would you mind if we took off?”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“You can stay if you want.”
She just gives me a look that makes me feel stupid.
“What?”
“Yeah, I want to stay here because this party is so rocking,” she says.
“I’m just saying.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you see upstairs?”
“Nothing.”
She’s not buying it, but she doesn’t press me.
“Okay, fine. Come on.”
I follow her out. But before I leave, I spot Kelsey one final time. She looks over at me and gives me a friendly smile. I haven’t seen it in a long time. No matter how adult and different she might look, she still has that sweet and friendly face.
It’s quite the opposite of the sweet but beat-up face I saw upstairs in the closet.
And even though I’m not going to tell Lily this, I know I saw it. I’m not losing my mind.
If I lost my mind I did so months ago.