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She’s like the angel statue Mum has in our garden.
She’s the same girl from the other time. I think it was yesterday.
Since she’s wearing sleeping clothes, it must be night time again.
She drops the light on the floor and crouches in front of me. Her little hands are dragging a heavy bag behind her, but I don’t focus on the sound or her bag.
I focus on her.
The girl who looks exactly like one of Silver and Kimberly’s dolls. The girl with golden blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes watching me with a frown.
The girl with milky white skin and flushed red cheeks.
Do they make Silver and Kimberly’s dolls into real people who can move and drag things?
She waves a hand in front of my face, the two lines between her brows deepening. “Can you hear me?”
“Are you real?” My voice sounds far away as if I’m speaking from another room.
I touched her yesterday. I grabbed her hand and asked her to help me, but maybe I’m seeing ghosts.
Maybe I’m becoming like my mother when she can’t sleep at night.
Maybe the red woman is trying to torture me again.
“Of course I’m real, silly.” She grins, showcasing a missing tooth.
Okay, Silver and Kimberly’s dolls don’t have missing teeth.
She retrieves a smaller bag and unveils a napkin. The scent of bread and Marmite hits me straight in the stomach. The growling sound can be heard from another continent.
“I brought you —”
I snatch the piece of bread from between her fingers before she has the chance to finish the sentence.
If my father saw me eating right now, he’d yell at me for my lacking manners. I don’t even chew, I don’t wait for the first bite to go down before snatching the next one.
“I’m sorry. These were the only things I could find in the kitchen this late.”
The girl approaches me carefully. I turn away from her like a starving dog protecting his food.
She rises and wraps something fluffy and warm around my shoulders. “It’s freezing in here.”
I stare at her while munching on a piece of bread. I cough and choke on the bite.
She reaches into her wonder bag and brings out a bottle of water. I grab it from her and drink half of it in one go.
The cold liquid soothes my scratchy throat like honey. I miss the honey sandwiches Margo used to make for me.
I go back to devouring my bread. I start to taste the Marmite near the end.
Something warm connects with my skin and I pause chewing to stare at the girl again.
She’s wiping my face with a wet cotton cloth, but the more she wipes the more her expression falls.
Her fingers comb through my tangled hair then she glides the cloth over my arm, forcing me to eat with one hand.
A fat tear slides down her cheek. I swallow the last bite of bread and remain completely still.
