“I know.” I put my arm around her shoulder and carefully led her out of
the room. “I know, you tried so hard, and you put so much love into them.
But I think this house is affecting you. It’s affecting how well the dolls come
out. It’s not your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
We stopped at the top of the stairs. Ruby leaned on the bannister, staring
over the foyer and the windows overlooking the street. She rubbed her nose
with the back of her hand. “Is Raul really back?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. He’s parked across the road.”
“What am I going to do, Jo?”
I squeezed the arm I held around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay. We’ll work
it out.”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Then I’ll stay with you.”
W E PUT on a movie and sat wrapped in blankets in Ruby’s living room. We
both studiously avoided mentioning anything to do with ghosts, though I was
followed by the horrible, persistent feeling that something hung in the darkest
corners of the room, watching us.
Don’t acknowledge it. Don’t feed it.
The movie’s dialogue washed over me. We’d chosen a generic action
flick this time, but I struggled to follow its plot. Half of my attention was
directed towards the front porch. I couldn’t peek through the windows
because Raul might see the curtain move, but I was sure he was still out
there, watching.
What’s his plan? Is he there to intimidate? Is he waiting for Ruby to leave
her house so that he can grab her?
Ruby dozed off near the end of the movie. I repositioned the pillow under
her so that she wouldn’t get a sore neck, then stretched back in my chair. I
wished Lucky hadn’t left. A little bit of moral support would have gone a
long way.
The clock clicked over to midnight. I was starting to grow sleepy but
didn’t want to doze off yet. I tried changing my position several times, each
rotation contorting into a new, even less comfortable arrangement, to keep
myself alert.
The plaster on my finger was itchy. I picked at it absent-mindedly then
flinched as a small stab of pain radiated out from the healing cuts. I looked
down. Tiny black lines, like stained veins, spread from under the bandage.
Horror bloomed inside of me. I traced one of them down; it went as far as myknuckle.
Someone pressed on the piano’s keys. The notes held for a moment, then
the melody started up, enveloping me, filling my head. I wanted to scream
and cry and throw things. But instead, I made myself sit very still. Don’t
engage. Don’t encourage.
It was nearly impossible not to, though. The music was unbearable; hot
anger threaded through my chest, choking my lungs and my heart, making
me feel ready to explode. I pressed my hands over my ears and clenched my
teeth together .
A loud bang came from outside, followed by a choked, furious yell. The
piano fell silent. I removed my hands from my ears. Ruby stirred and sat
upright, her eyes huge. “Did you hear that?”
“The music?”
“No, the yell.”
I looked towards the windows. “Yeah. D’you think it’s…”
Ruby scrambled out of the couch and scurried into the foyer. She pulled
aside one of the curtains flanking the door and peered through. A horrified
cry strangled in her throat, and she hurried to unlock the door.
“What happened? Hey, slow down—”
My friend was already outside. I ran after her, shivering in the freezing
night air. One of Ruby’s trash cans waiting on the curb had been tipped over.
Bags of garbage were scattered across the walkway.
Ruby stopped beside the bin, her hands gripping her hair, and stared
down the road. Without streetlights, very little was visible except for where
the moon painted highlights on top of the trees and houses.
I came to a halt at her side and grabbed her arm. “What is it? What’s
happened?”
“He went through my trash,” she moaned. “He found it, and now he
knows.”