Chapter one: I’ll Be Down in a Few
1984
Willowvald Town
Cherry was only eight years old.
She always got up for school and almost always hated it. It made her stomach twist and ache in a way she couldn’t explain.
“Strawberry,” her mother called softly from the doorway. “You’ve got to get up now. The bus will be here soon.”
Her mom always called her Strawberry, because of her ginger curls and the red freckles scattered across her cheeks like berry seeds.
Cherry didn’t move. She curled deeper under the blanket, pulling it over her head. The morning was cold, and the world felt mean. She didn’t want to go.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to yell.
But Cherry was born mute. No sound ever came from her throat, no matter how hard she tried.
It hurt how much she had to say and how little she could give the world.
So instead, she reached one small hand out from the blanket, signed slowly, “I’ll be down in a few, Mom,” and gave a little nod.
Her mother nodded back with a smile and disappeared down the stairs to run her bath warm, just the way Cherry liked it. With those cookie scented bath bombs that made the steam smell like fresh dough.
Cherry stepped into the warm slippers Mommy bought her. They were fuzzy and soft and pink the kind that made mornings feel a little kinder.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror. Ginger curls puffed out around her head like a dandelion left in the wind. She sighed.
Mommy would have to comb it again. That always took time, and tears. Cherry hated making Mommy work harder than she already did.
She grabbed her Daffy Duck towel from the peg and padded quietly to the bathroom.
The warm, cookie scented bathwater greeted her like a hug. As she sank into the tub, she breathed in the scent of baking drifting in from the kitchen and smiled.
She started with her Cantu bottle, massaging the shampoo into her scalp. The smell of coconut milk filled the steamy air. She loved it. It made her feel like summer lived in her hair.
She reached for the shower tap to rinse her head but it sputtered. Then stopped.
Confused, Cherry tried turning it off, then on again. Nothing.
Then the sink let out a long, ugly sound, like a cough.
Her eyes darted to the drain the stopper was gone.
But she hadn’t touched it.
Her heart thudded.
She scanned the room and spotted the drain stopper lying on the floor… near the door. Almost pressed against it. As if someone had tossed it there.
She stood, water sloshing around her, one foot already lifting to climb out.
The tub began to fill again. Fast.
The water turned dark. Black.
Like ink or tar.
It slithered past her ankles, rising to her knees. Her breath caught in her chest.
She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
No sound. Not even a squeak.
Panic bloomed.
She grabbed the shampoo bottle and hurled it at the door. It banged against the wood with a thud.
Seconds later, Mommy burst in.
“Cherry!” she cried, rushing forward, arms wrapping around her.
Cherry trembled, her body wracked with silent sobs.
Mommy knelt beside the tub, pulling her close, smoothing her wet curls with shaking hands.
“What happened, dear?” she whispered, her voice full of worry.
But Cherry couldn’t speak.
She just cried harder.
When Cherry opened her eyes, the water was still.
The bath hadn’t turned black. The tub wasn’t filling.
And the drain stopper.
It was right there, where it had always been.
She blinked at it in silence, her small hands gripping the edge of the tub. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, a wild little bird.
Had she imagined it?
Mommy sat beside her, worried eyes scanning her face.
She asked questions. So many.
“What happened, Cherry?”
“Did you slip?”
“Did something scare you?”
But what could Cherry say?
She had no words. Only a stomach full of dread and a silence she couldn’t shake.
She shook her head softly, signed “I don’t know.”
