Chapter 1- What Lives Upstairs
"Lucie, where's Tom?"
That’s Tom’s mother, at the door.
She’ll just complicate things further.
I must do something quick.
One of the benefits of being nine:
people assume you tell the truth.
Oh, how I wish they knew…
“Lucie, are you there? Open the door.”
She keeps knocking. If Papa hears her…
Using the face I’ve seen Papa use so many times, I open the door.
“Hi, Ms. Tina.”
“I can’t find Tom. He should be back by now,” she says, her voice trembling.
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
“That’s odd. He told me he was going to play tag with you.”
She looks confused.
She cannot know.
Papa will take her too.
“We did play,” I say quickly. “But when I beat him, he got upset and left.”
“Are you sure? Why didn’t you stop him?”
“He headed home. That’s why.”
“Oh, that little…” she mutters. “When I see him, he’s going to be in serious trouble.”
“He does this when he gets upset.”
She sighs. “If you see him, please tell him to come home. I made his favorite.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Tina.”
Just then, we both hear a sound.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“That’s Papa. He’s awake, he's sick. I need to check on him.”
She hesitates, glancing at the house like she can see him.
I should tell her, that Tom is here.
He needs help.
We both do.
But she’ll get mixed up in this.
I can’t save both of them.
“I promise, Mrs. Tina, I’ll bring him to you myself if I see him.”
“Alright,” she says, slightly relieved. “I’ll be at home. Waiting.”
She leaves.
I rush upstairs immediately.
That sound could be anything.
Be safe, Tom.
At the top of the stairs, Papa is leaving the room, locking the door, pocketing the key.
He’s holding a crowbar, blood dripping from it.
“Who was that?” he asks.
Be careful, Lucie. He’ll know if you’re lying.
With an unconcerned tone, I say,
“Same guy. This time pretending to be a beggar.”
Papa kneels down, eyes locked on mine.
“Lucie, I heard a woman’s voice. Did he also pretend to be a woman when you caught him? Or are you lying to me?”
If he knows I’m lying, I’m dead.
Think, brain.
“You know I hate liars,” he says quietly, “and what I do to them.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Then answer me.”
“There was a woman,” I say calmly. “She was there to sell his story, pretending to be his wife.”
“And how did you know she wasn’t?”
“She kept calling him different names.”
He laughs. “Crazy lunatics. They got lucky. They’d have made a fine addition to my collection.”
He straightens. “Watch the door. You hear a sound, report to me immediately. Understand?”
“Yes, Papa.”
When I’m sure he’s gone, I run to the door.
“Tom,” I whisper.
No answer.
Again,
LOUDER.
Nothing.
“Oh no…”
I sink to the floor, my back against the door.
“What have I done?”
