by Anna Willett
Paige took another sip of her drink, this time the burning sensation in her throat felt good. It made it easier to listen to the words coming from Hal’s mouth.
“I don’t know if whatever it was came from her.” He paused and took another sip. “Maybe it was already there before she was born. Maybe it came from all the suffering of those soldiers and the young women that had their babies taken away.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, but there was something. It kept working on me. I could feel it.” His eyes were burning into her. “Am I crazy?”
Paige shook her head. She’d felt it too. That day in Lizzy’s bedroom, when she was searching for the keys and found the gun. She’d felt it. Something black and vicious lurking in those rooms. A force that fed off the misery and fear in that building. Urging her on.
“You’re not crazy. I felt it too, I don’t know how to explain it.” Her eyes widened. “I gave in to it.” She tipped her glass and drained the last few drops. “What does that make me?”
“It makes you a good person pushed to the limit. You did what you had to, to protect your family. Because we were touched by evil, doesn’t make us evil.”
“I want to believe that, Hal. I really do, but …”
“Let me show you something.” He put his glass down and picked up the stack of mail he’d brought in that day. Or was it yesterday? Paige noticed the weak streak of light behind him, just outside the window, and realised it was nearly morning.
“I think you should look at this,” he said, holding up an envelope. “I was going to show it to you last night, but you seemed so far away at dinner.” His voice trailed off and he held the letter out.
It was addressed to both of them, hand written. Hand written envelopes are so rare nowadays, Paige thought absently and took it from him. She ran her finger along the top edge, torn where Hal had opened it. Curious, she slid out a hand written letter and a drawing. The drawing took her by surprise. She drew in a quick breath and looked up at Hal. He nodded for her to read the letter.
Dear Mr and Mrs. Loche,
My name is Susanne, I’m a care assistant at Grange Gardens. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you, but Soona wanted me to send you this drawing.
When she first came to us, she was almost non-verbal but now she’s a bit of a chatter-box. As you can see by the drawing, she’s learning to write and is coming on in leaps and bounds.
Yours were the only contact details in her file and she often talks about Paige. She calls you “my Paige.” Anyway, enjoy the drawing and if you would like to write to Soona, I know she’d be delighted to receive a letter.
Thanks
Susanne Vernette
Paige wiped a tear from under her eye and put the letter on the table. She picked up the drawing. A stick figure in blue overalls holding hands with another stick figure in a grey dress. They both held flowers in their free hands. The figure in the grey dress had yellow hair jutting straight up and big blue circles for eyes. Above them sat an orange sun and what looked like a flying chicken. At the bottom of the page in large childish writing sat three words: Soona and Paige. The S was back to front and the e on the end of Paige drooped down at a drunken angle.
She touched her finger to the waxy figures in the drawing and couldn’t help smiling.
“You got her out of there. You didn’t give in to evil, you protected innocence against it. I heard you. You told Soona to close her eyes. You were still trying to keep her from seeing the ugly stuff.” He leaned forward. “And you did. You have to hang on to that.”
“I will.” She put the drawing on the table and took his face in her hands. “I’ll hang on.” She kissed him and then they went outside and watched the weak streaks of light turn into a glorious sunrise. There were still dark days ahead, but maybe there was light too. All she had to do was find it.
THE END
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