The Shot

We used to sleep in the same bunk bed; her in the top bunk, and myself in the bottom. The rain and thunder would pound down on the cabin roof. She had known that I get freaked out easily, so she sacrificed her cozy warm bottom bunk for me, surrendered, and took the top. She took her worn, fraying Strawberry Shortcake blankets with her, as well as her story books and a flashlight. The cabin smelt of must and old candles. The floors stained from the subtle drops of water coming from the ceiling, and the walls re-plastered with turquoise wallpaper. We would pull out our flashlights out from our pillow case, and point them at that old ceiling every night. I would see her bunny rabbit being formed with the shadow of her hands, and I would always attempt a giraffe.

When the sun started shining through the window that morning we would jump out of bed. Hairspray would mist through the air, and we would pick out each other's outfits. Our rain boots would then be on, and the door would slam shut . Skipping out of the cabin, holding hands, singing songs and giggling was another morning tradition. The breakfast area was usually crowded with kids and camp counselors chasing them around, but we would always find some place to sit and eat a stack of hot pancakes. As the day went on Emily and I would continue on with the usual camp activities, building forts, and studying tadpoles in the lake. But as the days went on my friendship with Emily drained a bit, and lost its luster. I couldn't help but think to myself that she was my sister, and sisters get in fights all the time. That next morning was when I had realized what she really was to me. 

We had sat around the campfire, roasting marshmallows until they turned golden brown. We stared at the campfire, until we realized it was getting late, and then slowly got up and walked back to our cabin in the distance.

"EMILY! EMILY!" We both turn around, used to answering to each other's names, and off in the distance stands our camp counselor. She seems out of breathe as she runs up to us, precociously staring at Emily, who stares back with a timid look on her face.

"Let's see, well, first of all it is way too late for you two to be out! More importantly, Emily, I'm going to need you to come with me." We both nod as Emily walks towards her, looking back at me with a sinister looking grin, and turns sharply to catch up. I remember running back that night, as fast as I possibly could, the wind blowing through my hair, and making a loud whistle in my ears. Voices had filled in my head. They burst through my ears like firecrackers screaming.

5 feet.

The screams get louder.

2 feet.

..and louder.

The cabin door slams open hitting the turquoise wall behind it. I fling myself against the wobbly bunk bed, clutching my knees to my chest. The silent whispers fill the air

"Hannah, we love you!"

I cringe and my bottom lip quivers as I sit sobbing with tears rolling down my cheeks. My eyes turn red and glossy.

"Hannah? Don't cry! We love you! We have something for you! Please Hannah?"

The shaking overrules my body and I slowly put my feet on the ground, making the damp floorboards creek. I see the window gently slide open, so with trance-like actions I put one foot through the window, then the other, looking at the ground. I jump quickly, hearing a crack. I get up anyways, and limp over to the forest behind the cabins, throwing caution to the wind.

"Yes Hannah, right there is fine, close your eyes!"

I close my eyes and imagine rolling over, in the warm cabin bed, with Emily above me holding a pillow over my head until I fall asleep and can't hear the voices anymore. But I still stand crooked with those voices coming closer.

"Hold still Hannah, we're going to set something in your hand..."

My arm shivers as I feel the cold metal tough my hand. I stand tracing my fingers around the rim and open my eyes. The tree in the distance catches my attention as I see movement behind it. I look to my palm, and there lies a small gun, with intricate black tracings around the barrel.

"Now put this in your bag, we'll take care of it from here."

I start to feel the pressure build on my knee, but I continue to hobble back to the cabin door, no longer able to fit through the window. I pull the bag out from underneath my bed, and place the gun at the bottom. Still shaking I lie down and stare at the top bunk where Emily should be, but I couldn't possibly get up and risk leaving the cabin again. I roll over onto my side, and after looking directly at the wall for an hour, I fall asleep. 

***

I sit by the mosaic window in my kitchen. The sky is a deep gray, and snow looks like it could fall from the sky at any moment. My light gray hair lays flat against my hollow cheek bones. I study the old play house outside the window, where I used to play. The door remains locked with a rather large metal lock, and I know the key is upstairs in the attic, in a compartment of my old music box. I continue to watch the playhouse, scared of the horrid memories that had taken place there. As I walk over to the stove to tend to my teapot I get the feeling that something quite odd is happening outside. I quickly pour the hot tea into a chipped mug and go to sit in a kitchen chair near the wide window, looking out to the playhouse. I see the lights on my maple tree flicker, and the swing attached to the tree start to sway; back and forth, back and forth... I don't think much of it, knowing Emily would try to freak me out like that, but then I see her shadow in the playhouse window, as I have a few times before, and it brings those few nights after we got home from camp into the picture. I can't stand to think about them anymore, so I return to thinking about the weather and what my plans are this weekend. Glancing over outside the window I notice that the swing sways high into the air, and then I hear the voices.

"Hannah? I think Emily would like to talk to you, now wouldn't she?"

My teeth then close together as my body shakes. I walk over and stumble over to the window, mainly relying on my good knee. She stands in the playhouse window with a lantern lighting up her face; she looks young, just as I remember her. But she suddenly moves away from the window, pounding her fists against the playhouse door, and I watch the lock move back and forth, occasionally making a hammering sound against the old wood.

"Hannah? You did this!" How could've you?"

My bottom lip quivers in frustration. I wobble as quickly as I can, making it up the first set of stairs, and then pulling down the latter from the ceiling. I limp up cautiously.

"That's it Hannah, don't fall now!"

Ignoring the whispers, I get up into the attic and find the small music box. I open it slowly and the music begins, sending a chill up my spine. I quickly open the velvet compartment and grab the rusted key out. I force myself down both flights of stairs, and out the back kitchen door.

"That's it Hannah, go ahead, why not? Just unlock it."

My eyes suddenly get that glossy look to them and I walk closer and closer to the door, haring a faint scream from inside the playhouse. My hand lingers over the lock, as the voices mumble into my ear

"You can do it Hannah, we love you!"

I take the cold lock in my hand, and with a flick of a wrist it unlocks. A rush of air bursts into my face, and there lies the old wooden door, off of the playhouse. I steady myself as I take a deep breath and look inside of the house, nothing. I slowly turn around, skeptical of the surroundings, and see Emily standing directly in front of me, still young, with a ghostly pale face, and the same clothes she wore on that night. She stands holding same the metal gun, with the black tracings, and has the glossy eyes, just as I had gotten many times before uncontrollably. But this time it is her, pointing the gun at me. I freeze, and remember the shot.

"Oh Hannah, why would've you done such a thing to poor Emily?"

The shot fires quickly.