Chapter 9 · The Room She Never Left

The room smells like grape juice and old carpet. I'm standing in my childhood bedroom. The one we left when I was twelve.

My sister's on the floor by the closet. Blood on her hands. She's holding something small and dark and it's dripping.

I try to move. My legs don't work right. It's like walking through bathwater. Everything's too slow and the walls are breathing.

"Liv," I say. My voice sounds wrong. Too loud. Like I'm shouting in a library.

She doesn't look up. She's staring at the thing in her hands. It's a key. Old iron. Covered in something wet.

The closet door behind her is open. I can't see what's inside but I can hear it. Breathing. Not human breathing. The kind that has too many parts.

I take a step. The carpet squelches. When I look down there's water everywhere. Black water. It's coming from under the closet door.

"Liv, we need to go."

She shakes her head. Still not looking at me. Her hair's longer than I remember. It covers half her face.

"I can't," she says. "It won't let me."

That's when I see the chain. It's wrapped around her ankle.