Page 8 of Lost & Found

The words wrapped around my ribs and squeezed. I pressed my fist to my mouth, but the tears came anyway. They slid hot and fast down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and onto my nightgown. My throat burned with the effort of holding it in.

Every note she sang scraped against the places inside me that still remembered my mother’s arms, my brother’s laughter, the way my father smelled on a Sunday morning before church.

I couldn’t breathe. The second verse broke me. My shoulders began to shake. I bit down harder on my hand until I tasted blood, trying to smother the sob that clawed its way up my throat.

She sang on. I couldn’t stay by the wall and keep quiet. I scrambled to my feet and stumbled back to my bed, grabbing my pillow and pressing it over my face. I buried my mouth into it, screaming into the cotton so the sound wouldn’t carry.

My chest heaved. My stomach cramped. The salt of my tears soaked through the fabric as I tried to breathe around the sobs tearing out of me. There was a slight tremble, as she sang for me.

And when she got to the end, she started once more. Each time it was softer than the last. And I hated that I hadn’t answered her. I hated myself for being a coward and letting her be brave alone.

I couldn’t stay on the bed any longer. I walked back over and slid down to the floor and pressed myself against the wall again, needing to be close to whatever warmth still existed in this world. It felt colder now, but I imagined the outline of her small body on the other side.

I imagined her sitting with her knees pulled, her head resting on them. My sobs wouldn’t stop this time. They came harder, uglier. I tried to swallow them, but they slipped out in broken sounds I couldn’t control.

“Autumn?” she whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“It’s okay,” she said as if I had answered. “Please don’t cry. I’m here for you.”

My shoulders shook harder. There was a small pause, then softer still. “What is your real name? I bet it’s pretty, like you are. I’ll give you mine.”

There was another pause as she waited for me to speak. “My name is Mischa Natal—”

Her voice cut off. Not trailed off. It didn’t fade. It just stopped.

Silence didn’t follow, although I wished it had. Silence would have meant she remembered the rules and decided, for once, to obey them. No, the sounds that came next were nothing short of violence.

The door slammed open on the other side. The sound cracked as loudly as if the wall didn’t exist at all. A sharp crack followed. Then another. The unmistakable sound of skin striking skin.

My entire body went rigid. He was there. The Mask. Of course he’d seen, heard. The cameras were always on. We were foolish. Two stupid little girls pretending to be normal.

“I’ve told you a hundred times that girl died long ago,” the Mask raged.

Something hit the floor. Spring. I clamped my hands over my ears, but it didn’t matter. The sound carried. His fury was like invisible hands sliding under the door and wrapping around my throat.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Mischa whimpered.

Her voice sounded tiny. Distant. Like it was being pressed into the floor. Muffled.

“You’re not sorry. You’re not ever sorry. Why can’t you be like the others? Hmm?”

Another slap followed by a sharp, loud cry.

“They all behave, and you never do. I should just kill you because if I don’t, your owner surely will. It’s time for you to learn another lesson.”

I heard fabric rip, and I shook my head, fearing the worst. But it was his last words that destroyed me entirely.

“This will be the last one I teach you, so help me God.”

Last one. The words hollowed me. My breath stopped. My mind painted the scene instantly. Her small body unmoving, his hands around her throat. Her brown hair fanned out against the floor. The swan on the carousel forever empty.

This was my fault. If I hadn’t cried like a baby about getting my period. If I had been stronger. The guilt changed shape inside me. It wasn’t sharp anymore. It was crushing. A weight pressing down on my chest until I wanted to run and hide.

Then it went quiet. The shouting stopped. The crying stopped. There wasn’t any movement. Just silence. And that terrified me more than anything else. I stayed frozen in place before curling up in a ball on my side of the wall.

This time I put my hand on the wall, praying for any sound at all. I waited for what felt like forever. For proof she was still there—alive. It didn’t come.