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“Hey, Ally. We’re back. You need to go inside and go to bed.”
Ally groans and climbs out of the car. She takes a few wobbly steps away from the vehicle before I throw her arm over my shoulders and help her across the yards and to the side of the house—the one with the bathroom window I know she probably used to get out earlier.
“I’m going to go in first, and then I’m going to help you climb in, too, okay? And you need to be really, really quiet, Ally. Can you do that?”
She replies with something like a groan that I’m going to have to hope means ‘yes,’ then I climb onto the AC unit and through the window.
I lower myself onto the floor carefully and peek out the bathroom door. The first floor is dark and quiet—no sign of anyone up and moving around.
I gesture for Ally to climb through and help her onto her feet, but her every move is loud. I resign to carry her up the staircase to her room.
I find the door without a knob and push it open, then set her down on the bed. Instinctively, she lies down on her pillow and pulls her covers over her.
“Ally, where should I put your bag?” I whisper, knowing it contains what’s considered to be contraband in her house.
“In the hole,” she slurs. “And turn the phone off, please.”
I dig through the bag, power down the phone, and crawl under the bed. It takes me a minute to find the loose board, but I do, and then I drop the bag inside and replace it.
“I love you, Allyson,” I tell her and kiss her on the lips. “Be good.”
“I love you, too,” she says, running her fingers over my gauged ears again.
“Why do you do that?” I ask.
“It makes me feel better,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone…hurt me.”
“What doesthatmean?”
“Youknowwhat I mean,” she says.
Oh…shit.
“And sometimes I get…confused. And it makes me feel better. Like I’m safe.”
“You’re always safe with me, Ally. I’ll never hurt you.”
“I know,” she says, closing her eyes.
“I have to go, Ally. Text me tomorrow when you can, okay?”
“Mmmhmm,” she says, pulling the covers up to her neck.
I glance out into the hallway to make sure it’s clear before I leave the room, creeping back down the staircase and out the window I came from. A wave of relief washes over me when my shoes hit the wet grass.
I can’t fucking believe we didn’t get caught.
That sense of relief fades quickly as I walk to my car, remembering that Ally’s still stuck there—that someone hurt her, and people arestillhurting her.
When I get home, I crawl into bed, and despite how exhausted I am, I don’t sleep.
When I do finally emerge from my room the next morning, I find the house quiet and empty—a rarity around here. I go to the kitchen, scarf a couple of pieces of cold pizza from the fridge, and drink some orange juice straight from the carton, then head back upstairs to my cave.
I almost have everything I’d taken from Parks’ House of Horrors copied over onto my laptop when my phone vibrates on the table next to me. I snatch it up, prepared to ignore whoever is calling, before seeing Ally’s name on the screen.
