Chapter 11 - Behind the Double Doors
The water was still running when we slipped back into the hallway.
I could hear it through the bathroom wall at the far end, that steady hiss against tile. Milo had his hand tight around mine and the brass key pressed so hard into his palm it left a mark. The hall light felt lower than before, warm and yellow over the wood. The doors were closed just like always, tall and dark with their brass handles dull in the light.
Milo let go of me and stepped up close. He didn't look at the wallpaper tear. He'd told me not to look at it either, not yet.
He fit the key in the left door. It went in halfway and stopped.
He jiggled it. His breath came out through his nose. I watched his shoulders lift up tight around his ears. The water kept running behind us.
"It's stuck," he whispered.
He pulled the key almost out and tried again, slower this time. He pushed the door in with his other hand while he turned. The lock gave a dry click that sounded too loud. He froze and looked down the hall toward the bathroom.
Nothing changed. Water on tile. The house creaked once.
He turned the handle and pulled. The door didn't swing like a normal door. It dragged an inch, then caught on the floor. He had to lean his whole weight back. The hinges made a low groan. Cold air slipped out around the edge and touched my ankles.
It wasn't a room behind there. It was narrow, no wider than a closet laid sideways. My eyes had to adjust because there was no light in there, only what spilled in from the hallway.
There was a small mattress on the floor, thin and stained. Folded cloths were stacked against the side wall, and even in that dim light I could see the dark red soaked into them. The air smelled sour and metallic, like old pennies left in water.
And on the edge of the mattress sat my doll's shoe.
The tiny white shoe with the strap I'd lost two weeks ago. Evelyn had told me I'd thrown it away. I knew I hadn't. I stared at it and my throat closed up.
"Nora," Milo said. "Don't."
Because then I saw her.
She was curled on the mattress with her back against the far wood, knees pulled up. Blonde hair, long and matted, hanging over her face. Her light shirt was torn at the shoulder and spotted dark. Her hands were shaking. For a second I thought she wasn't real, that she was a shadow the hallway light was making.
Then she lifted her head.
Her face was thin and pale, her lips cracked. But her eyes found me right away, like she'd been listening for us. She stared at me and then at Milo, and her mouth moved before any sound came out.
She reached one hand toward me. Her fingers were dirty. There was dried blood under her nails and a thin cut across her knuckle.
"Nora," she breathed. It was barely a voice. Just air shaped around my name.
My chest went tight. I stepped back into Milo. He put his arm out in front of me without looking away from her.
The woman's gaze dropped to the gap in the wall beside the doors, to the tear in the floral paper on our side. I understood then, all at once, without anyone saying it. The lock of blonde hair stuck in that tear wasn't mine. It was hers. The blood running down the wallpaper was hers.
"You were in the wall," Milo said. His voice shook. "That was you."
She nodded once, too tired to hold it. She tried to sit up straighter and winced, her other hand pressing against her side. She looked past us into the hallway, panicked.
"Lock it," she whispered. "She's —"
We heard the water stop.
The pipes knocked once in the wall. Silence filled the bathroom, then the faint squeak of the shower handle turning all the way off.
Milo's head snapped toward the sound. The woman gripped the edge of the mattress and tried to push herself forward, toward me.
May you like
"Go," she mouthed.
Milo grabbed the door edge. I couldn't move. I was staring at the doll shoe on the mattress and her hand still reaching out. He yanked my sleeve hard and pulled me back over the threshold into the warm light of the hallway.
