The House Above the Sea

14.

The last time Kit saw his sister, it was his twelfth birthday.

For a while, Elsie's yearly visits were Kit's only way of keeping track of the time. She would ease open the rickety front door, a small gift box cradled in her hands, and Kit would know suddenly that it was the last day of January, that he was one year older.

And each year, it was the same. Kit's heart would start to pound, his feet yearning, desperate to move, until the hiss of his stolen voice in his ear would promise blood and tears should he take a single step. So he hid. Because he had no choice, he hid.

That day was the only day he ever fought.

Elsie shuffled into the empty foyer, a soft breeze of perfect, temperate air blowing in as she opened the door. She was always different every time she came, whether it be that she'd grown taller or she'd cut her hair again or she was wearing a new pair of shoes. This time, she was in a simple lace white dress, her hair a shock of black against it, a drop of ink pooling through milk. Her nails were bright red—she must be old now if Mom let her do that, Kit thought—and in her arms she hefted a cumbersome cardboard box.

A strange motley of emotions tangled in Kit's chest. He was so terrified of her leaving him behind, but somehow he was more terrified of her waiting up for him.

"Kit?" Elsie said, letting out a soft grunt as she set the box down and dropped to a seat on the floor. "You'd be twelve today. I mean, you probably already know that. But anyway, twelve's a big deal. So happy birthday."

Look at me, Kit willed her silently, even if he knew it was pointless. Look at me. Please, Elsie, look at me.

"Listen, Kit."

She sat in silence for a long while after that, fiddling with her fingers in her lap, her head dipped. Kit wanted to say, I'm listening. More than that, he wanted her to know he was there. But each time he thought about moving, fear closed its iron grip around his throat and held him fast.

"This is my last semester of middle school. I'll be in high school by the end of the year, so I sort of have to...grow up, you know?" She sighed, a break at the edge of her voice. "I miss you. I miss you more and more everyday, and by now I think that shouldn't even be possible. But I can't keep coming back here. I'm sorry."

The words sent a shockwave through Kit's body.

"You used to paint all the time—remember when Mom yelled at you for painting all those mandalas on your bedroom wall?—so anyway, I brought some old wall paint I found in the garage," Elsie said, then got to her feet, dusting off her knees. Something glinted against the sunlight as she lifted her face, and with a painful jolt, Kit realized it was a tear. "I love you. Happy birthday, Kit. And—goodbye."

He was going to see her. For once he did not care about the consequences; he had to see her, before she was gone—

Two frigid fingers tapped him on the shoulder, like splinters of ice, and Kit fell to the floor with a thud. He saw Elsie look up, stunned, before she sniffled and shut the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," said the ghost, kneeling before Kit, a rueful grin on his face, "but it's better that you learn it now. Do you understand how it feels now, Christopher? You are dead to the world."

Kit shook his head, scrambling to get up from the floor, only to find his limbs weighed down as if with lead.

"Everything," said the ghost, "and everyone, will just keep moving without you."

Now, Kit paces through the living room, which is still mostly vacant save for the pile of hand-me-downs Neo brought him, clutching at the seashell against his throat. His steps are sluggish, his head bowed, his heart and his head tugging him two polar opposite ways. I am putting Neo in danger, he thinks. I am putting both Neo and Elsie in danger. But if Neo could do something, if Kit could really see his sister again, if there's even a slim chance to return to life as it was before, how can he not chase it?