by Maguire, Ily
The door is still on its hinges, the wood is cracked.
“It’s been ransacked.” I state the obvious. Pike comes to a halt by my side. “What happened?” The inside of the house looks worse than the outside, if that’s possible. Wallpaper hangs in strips off the walls. Whatever furniture isn’t on the front lawn is toppled or broken. Chairs split like firewood, their upholstery ripped and torn to shreds. Shards of glass are everywhere either from the windows or the dozens of mirrors my mother had hanging on the walls. Rugs are pushed up to the walls, their tassels clumped and stained.
Is that blood?
I run down the hall past the dining room and to the kitchen. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink. Food has been liquefied or covered in fuzzy green and black mold. Something moves in the basin of the sink. I jump back and stifle a scream.
How long has it been like this?
I race back down the hall, my heart thuds in my chest, past the dining room and Pike, up the winding stairs two at a time.
“No one’s here, Rose,” Pike calls up, shaking his head at the destruction.
Something stops me in my tracks. Cold. A cool breeze. From above. I look up and there is a hole in the ceiling big enough for ten people to climb through at once.
“That’s not true, someone has to be here. They have to be here. They’re hiding. Yes, that’s it. Hey, where are you guys?” I scream, my voice echoes up and out through the ceiling. “Mom! Dad!” I run in one direction down the hall and then in the other. “Mom! Dad! Dory! Dory, where are you? Where are you hiding? Evie, you can come out now!”
“No one’s here, Rose.” Pike says a second time. Or is he just on repeat in my head?
I fall to the ground before his feet. Both hands firmly planted on the ground, my upper arms tremble under my weight. When did he get up here? I cry. He kneels down and rubs my head. It makes me cry even more.
“Rose, is that you?”
My head jerks up to see my sister creep out of a hall closet.
“Dory!” I scream. I pick myself up and run to her. I grab her in my arms. She hugs me back and relief washes over me in waves. I lose my breath as I try not to hyperventilate. The smell of her is overpowering. My eyes burn and start to tear. There’s so much perfume.
Dory is crying, too, though not as much. It’s more like a whimper. Her body hardly moves against my heaving.
She pushes me back, gently, and takes my face in her hands. She looks different. Her hair is tangled and dried blood is matted to her forehead. Her face is gaunt, her eyes hollow and empty. She’s skinny. Way skinnier than before.
And old. She looks like an old woman and I don’t understand what’s happened. I glance over at Pike who is nervously looking around. I open my mouth to say something, but Dory says something first.
“Rose, you have to go.” Her eyes dart from left to right.
“What Dory? What are you saying?”
“You are not safe here, you have to go. Now!”
End Book 2