Chapter 6
Sarah didn't ask me if I wanted to go. She just told me we were going, and that was different from how she'd spoken to me the night before.
I sat on the edge of the bathtub while she ran water that morning. She'd laid a towel over the vent in the hallway, tucked at the corners, but I could still see the outline underneath. Emily stood in the doorway in her light blue sweater, watching.
"You don't have to wash your hair if you don't want to," Sarah said. She tested the water with her wrist. "But you should sit for a few minutes. Okay?"
I nodded. My dress was still the dirty light pink one. She hadn't tried to take it off me. She just helped me step out of it and into the warm water, and she didn't comment on how my ribs showed or how gray my socks had been.
In the car, Emily sat next to me in the back seat. Sarah had put one of Emily's clean t-shirts on me. It was too big and smelled like laundry detergent. It came down to my knees. Sarah had buckled me in herself, her hands lingering on the strap to make sure it wasn't too tight.
The pediatrician's office was in town next to the pharmacy, in a low brick building with a parking lot that was almost full. Sarah parked and cut the engine and looked at us in the rearview mirror.
"We're going to see Dr. Patel," she said. "She's going to check you both, just to be safe. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, Mia. But you can tell the truth. It's safe to tell the truth here."
Emily reached over and held my hand. Her fingers were warm.
Inside, the waiting room was bright and smelled like cleaner. A fish tank bubbled in the corner. The nurse at the front desk smiled at Sarah and then looked at me longer than she looked at Emily. Her smile thinned.
"Mia Reeves?" she said.
Sarah said, "Yes. I called this morning."
The nurse brought us back right away. She weighed me on the big scale in the hallway. I stood on it in Emily's t-shirt and socks. The number blinked. She wrote it down without saying it out loud, but I saw Sarah see it and press her lips together.
In the exam room, Dr. Patel came in. She was a woman with dark hair pulled back, wearing a white coat and sneakers. She knelt so she was at my eye level on the paper-covered table.
"Hi, Mia," she said. "I'm Dr. Patel. I'm going to check your heart and your throat and your belly, okay? Is that okay?"
I nodded.
She was gentle. Her hands were cool. She listened to my chest, looked in my ears, pressed lightly on my stomach. She lifted the hem of the big t-shirt and looked at my legs and my knees, at the scrapes there. Emily sat on the chair against the wall with Sarah's hand on her shoulder, both of them quiet.
Dr. Patel helped me sit up and looked at my mouth. She frowned at my lips, dry and cracked at the corners.
"When did you last drink water, sweetheart?" she asked.
I didn't know.
Sarah answered. "She's had water since yesterday afternoon. But before that, I don't know how much."
Dr. Patel wrote something on her clipboard. Then she looked at Sarah. "And how long since she's eaten regularly?"
"My husband's daughter," Sarah said. Her voice was very even. "Emily is my daughter. Mia is Mark's daughter from his previous relationship. She's been staying in a wall cavity in our house. For eleven days. With limited food and water. Bread through a vent."
The room went still. The fish tank sound from the waiting room was gone here.
Dr. Patel didn't react right away. She just kept her eyes on Sarah, then on me.
"Can you tell me where you've been sleeping, Mia?" she asked softly.
I looked at Emily, then back at the doctor. My throat felt tight.
"The wall," I said. My voice was small.
"Can you show me with your hands how big it was?"
I held my hands out. Narrow.
Dr. Patel nodded. She wrote again. "And who brought you food?"
"Emily," I said.
Sarah made a small sound but didn't interrupt.
Dr. Patel put her clipboard down. "Mia, did anyone hurt you or touch you in a way you didn't like?"
I shook my head. "No. Just dark. And cold."
"Thank you for telling me," she said. "You did a really good job."
She stood and turned to Sarah. Her tone changed, not unkind, but official.
"Sarah, I'm going to document mild dehydration, low weight for age, dry skin, and prolonged confinement in an unsafe enclosure. I am a mandated reporter, so I need to let you know I have to file a report with the county today. That's not a choice, it's the law. It doesn't mean anyone will take Mia out of the house today, but it does mean someone from child welfare will come to check on her, probably within twenty-four hours. They'll want to see where she was."
Sarah nodded. She'd already started crying silently, tears running without sound. "I understand. Should I have brought Mark?"
"No," Dr. Patel said. "You did the right thing bringing her in now. She needs fluids, small frequent meals, and rest. No more enclosed spaces. I'll give you instructions." She looked back at me. "And we need to keep a record that this visit happened, so people know how to help her best."
She printed papers and handed them to Sarah. A sheet with foods to try, water with a little salt and sugar, signs to watch for. And another sheet with a case number already forming at the top.
In the parking lot, Sarah helped me back into the car. Emily climbed in beside me and buckled herself. Sarah stood outside for a second with her hand on the roof, breathing.
When she got in, she didn't start the car right away.
"Mia," she said, looking at me in the mirror. "Someone is going to come to our house tomorrow. They'll ask you questions like Dr. Patel did. You just tell them what you told her. Okay?"
I nodded. The big t-shirt felt loose around my neck.
May you like
Emily leaned over and whispered, "You don't have to go back in the wall. I won't let them."
Sarah finally started the engine. The bright hallway would still be there when we got home, the towel over the vent, the plate with the bread gone. And now there was a paper in Sarah's bag that said where I'd been, with my weight and a number on it that couldn't be tucked away like a towel.
