Three - Abuse

398 15 20
                                    

She came late one night, a little girl wearing a dirty white gown.

I was sixteen, living in a run-down house with not-so-supportive parents. While I lied asleep in bed, faint noises gently woke me. My lids were heavy, the sting from tears still fresh. I checked the time on my phone with an eye half open, and it was a little more than an hour past midnight. The thin blanket wasn't enough for the chill, and it was quiet except for the consistent drops of light rain hitting against my window. Was it the pattering that woke me? I lied in bed a little longer, listening and waiting. A muffled knock came from outside my room and down the hall. I slowly pushed myself up, feeling reluctant, but curiosity was always my downfall. The floor was even colder.

I peeked down outside into the hall, and it came again. It was the front door, but who would be here at this hour, and why? 

I listened again, maybe it was Mom or Dad and they locked themselves outside, but then I heard them snoring from their bedroom. They were always loud sleepers. I debated if I should wake them, but I had enough bruises. Before going to check who it was, I took out a long sleeved shirt from my old dresser and wore it to hide them. 

I took steady steps towards the door, heel toe, heel toe, just like I read somewhere before, taking care not to wake up my parents. When I reached the door, I looked out the peephole and saw no one standing outside. Maybe I was hearing things? I turned around to head back to bed, but I heard it again. This time I knew for sure there were knocks.

Keeping the chain lock secured, I creaked open the door and I froze. I was met with a cool breeze and half the face of a child, a little girl who didn't seem older than ten. She stood at the porch, drenched from the drizzle outside. She had blonde hair that reached her shoulders, her face almost as pale as a porcelain doll. The white gown she wore had lots of dirt, and her bare feet and arms had visible cuts and bruises. Seeing those, mine ached and I quickly unlocked and opened the door. She kept quiet and still for a moment. She looked up at me, the color of her eyes a dark shade of brown. When they became teary and her lips sucked in, she pulled the teddy bear she held closer to her face. I took another look at the bruises on her arms and held my own; she didn't need to explain to me what happened. Though I wasn't sure about my house being the best choice to be her permanent safe place, I could at least let it be her sanctuary for the night. I placed my hand on her back and led her inside.

I guided her to the living room and she sat down on the couch. "Wait here, okay? I'll go and grab a few things for you." She gave a very slight and quick nod, still holding the bear to her face. I went to the kitchen and got her a glass of warm milk. From my bedroom closet I grabbed an extra blanket and a pillow. This blanket was even thinner, but it was better than nothing. I returned to the living room and tried to hand them to her. Her brows furrowed as she stared at me. "It's okay." 

She put the bear, also wet and dirty, down on her lap and took the warm glass with both hands. She rotated the cup several times, her eyes widening as if she enjoyed the warmth in her palms. She took a couple of sips before she hastily put it down on the table. I walked to her and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and it wasn't until then that it occurred to me how under dressed she was for the weather outside.

I sat down and smiled when she turned to face me. "Do you need a place to stay tonight?" Again, she gave a quick nod. "Can I at least know your name?"

She looked away, and there was a long interval of silence before she answered. "Liliana." Her lips barely moved and her voice was soft.

I smiled again. "Nice to meet you, Liliana. Don't worry, okay? You're safe here and you can stay the night." Liliana turned to me and her eyes glowed a little, then she placed her head on the pillow and curled up, tightly hugging her bear. I stayed a little longer to see if anything else would arise, but nothing did.

Horror Mansion: Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now