And again I hearlaughter. A child's laugh has never sounded quite so scary.Before I know what I'm doing, I crawl out of bed and headfor the stairs. If there's a little girl up there, she's probably just asfrightened as I am, right? Though she didn't sound frightened.I mean, she was laughing.I place my foot on the bottom step and look up. There's nothingbut darkness above me. Oscar appears at my side, leaninghis warm body against my leg. "Good boy." My voice comes outbreathless, as though I've been running.I put my foot on the second step and it creaks. Then there'snothing but quiet—no laughter, no footsteps, no skipping. Myheart is pounding, but I take a deep breath and it slows to asteady beat."Maybe it's over," I say. Oscar pants in agreement. Otherthan our breathing, the house is silent. "Let's go back to bed," Isigh finally, turning around.Oscar curls up beside me on the air mattress, and I run myfingers up and down his warm fur. I expect to lie awake, staringat the ceiling, for hours. Instead, my eyelids grow heavy, mybreathing slows until it keeps time with Mom's.But I swear, just as I'm drifting out of consciousness, in thatplace where you're more asleep than awake anymore, I hearsomething else. A phrase uttered in a child's voice, no more thana whisper:Night-night.
YOU ARE READING
Evil's Enemy
HorrorShe turned sixteen today. I watched it happen. Katherine, the woman who adopted her, baked her a cake: carrot cake, a burnt sort of orange colour with white frosting smothered over the top of it. A girl named Ashley came over to her house with candl...
