Chapter 3 - The Glass in Daylight
Dawn came in thin and gray through the curtains. I hadn't slept. I hadn't moved more than I had to.
Lily had finally drifted off against my side around four, her bunny tucked under her chin, her breathing shallow and even. The double doors were still closed. No footsteps in the hall. No light under them anymore. Whoever had been on the other side had pulled back a long time ago, quiet as he'd come.
I kept my arm around her and watched the room get lighter by degrees. The satin bedding, the dark wood of the nightstand, the glass. It was all still exactly where it had been at night, but morning made it look ordinary. That was the part that scared me more.
When Lily stirred, I didn't ask her anything right away. I just let her wake up slow.
She blinked at me, then at the window. "Is it morning?"
"Yeah, sweet pea. It's morning."
She sat up, her pink dress wrinkled, her hair pressed flat on one side where the bow had slipped. She reached for her bunny and held it tight.
I glanced at the nightstand. The glass was half full, just like I'd left it. In the daylight I could see it clearly. I eased myself up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, careful not to jostle the table.
"Don't touch that, okay?" I said softly. "That water glass. Leave it right there."
Lily nodded. She watched me.
I picked up my phone from the nightstand on my side. My hands weren't steady. I took a breath and held it to keep them still.
I stood over the glass and photographed it without touching it. Once straight on, once from above, once close enough that the bottom of the glass filled the frame. The crystal lamp base was next to it, the wood grain of the ornate trim underneath. I made sure the picture book on the bed was in one of the shots for scale, for time stamp.
Then I saw it.
At the bottom of the glass, under the water, there was a faint white ring. Not dust. Not a water mark on the outside. It was inside, settled, a thin gritty circle where something hadn't fully dissolved. Plain water from the tap didn't leave that. I'd filled that glass myself last night from the bathroom sink. It had been clear.
My stomach turned over. I didn't say anything in front of Lily.
I picked up the open children's picture book from the bed, careful to keep my fingers on the cover only, and I laid it gently over the top of the glass like a lid. Not touching the water. Just covering it. To keep anything out. To keep it as it was.
"Why'd you do that?" Lily asked.
"So we keep it safe," I said. "So nobody spills it."
She accepted that. Kids accept a lot if you say it calm.
I carried her into the kitchen and made her sit at the table with some dry cereal while the morning light came in hard across the linoleum. The house was quiet. No one else was up yet. That was good. I poured her apple juice in a different cup, a plastic one with a lid, and sat across from her.
I wanted to get this right. No leading. No big questions that would scare her or make her guess what I wanted to hear.
"Lils," I said, keeping my voice easy, "last night when you were telling me about the person. Can you show me what you saw? With your hands?"
She looked at me, then picked up her bunny and set it down like it was me. She laid it flat on the table.
"You were sleeping," she whispered. Not scared now, just matter-of-fact the way kids are in daylight. "Like this."
She closed her eyes and pretended to breathe loud.
"And then?"
She stood up and walked to the counter where my water cup sat. She didn't touch it. She mimed it with her empty hands. She held an invisible packet between her thumb and finger, tiny, and tipped it over an invisible glass. She tapped it twice with her other finger.
"He does like this," she said. "In your water. After you fall asleep. He wear dark clothes."
My throat went dry. She did the motion again, precise. Not something she'd seen in a cartoon. A small packet. A tip. A tap to make sure it all went in.
"Have you seen him do it more than once?" I asked.
She nodded. "Two times. Before."
The kitchen faucet dripped once. Outside, a car went by on the county road.
I didn't push for more. I didn't ask who he was. I could see she didn't know a name, only the shape and the timing. Man in dark clothes, after I fell asleep, at the nightstand. That was enough and it was too much.
I looked back toward the bedroom doorway. The book was still over the glass. The white ring was still there, waiting.
I wasn't going to dump it out or wash it or go yelling through the house. If I did that, it would be my word against whoever it was, and Lily would be in the middle.
"Okay," I said to her, quiet. "You did real good telling me, Lily. We're gonna check that water the right way. Just you and me know right now, okay?"
She nodded and sipped her juice.
May you like
I already knew where I could take it without anyone in town hearing about it first. The urgent care lab two towns over did private wellness screens. No questions, just a sample cup and a receipt. I had photos. I had Lily's reenactment fresh in my head. I needed something I could hold in my hand that said this wasn't just plain water.
I left the glass covered, untouched, right where it was.
