The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

Hope blossomed in my heart. I could take being dead, I could take being a ghost, if my mother could see and hear me. If I just had someone I loved to hold on to, to anchor me and love me and make me feel real.

 

But the bright, expectant look in my mother’s eyes went out like a candle on a pitch-black night.

 

“She’s not coming,” she said, like it had just occurred to her. Her eyes traveled across the room. “She’s not coming … because she’s dead.”

 

My heart cracked in two. The strength went out of me. I sank to the floor, buried my head in my arms, and wept. Over and over the pain in my chest expanded and crested, like a wave hitting the shore, while the tears burned my eyes like acid.

 

When I was drained of tears, I raised my head to find that the lobby was nearly empty. The detectives were herding my parents out the front doors.

 

I ran to follow them, but the bolt latched with a decisive clank before I could get out. Without thinking, I went to open it.

 

My hand went right through the doorknob.

 

I didn’t try a second time. I slid to the floor, my back against the wall.

 

Silence settled around me like ashes.

 

“It’s because a door is a barrier. Like a wall or a floor.”

 

Jingle jingle.

 

I looked up. Eliza, the ghost in the silk pajamas, stood a few feet away, leaning against the stairway railing.

 

When she saw that I was listening, she went on. “Unless you want to pass through one, barriers will stop you, just like they did when you were alive.”

 

“But I did want to pass through it,” I said. My voice was hoarse and mumbly. “My parents are out there.”

 

She took a few steps toward me. “There are different ways of wanting something. I suppose what I mean is that you have to believe you can do it.”

 

I curled deeper into myself, my arms wrapped around my knees. I felt worn out, used up.

 

“Sorry, but I’m not going to talk to you.” My voice hardened. “I want you to leave me alone. All of you.”

 

“All of us? Like I’m the head of a committee?” She frowned. “You should try to be more friendly. It can get very lonely here.”

 

“Yeah?” I said, and felt a sudden spark of suspicion. “Is that why you pushed me out a window? Because you’re lonely?”

 

Eliza suddenly seemed brighter somehow—like her intensity had been dialed up. “Look at your hands,” she said coldly. “I suppose I pulled the metal screen out of the wall?”

 

I really looked at them, for the first time. They were covered in scratches and cuts—there was no blood, but there were definite signs of damage.

 

“Like I said before,” Eliza said. “I did my best. It’s not my fault if you couldn’t take a hint. Do you know how lucky you were even to have the chance to leave? The rest of us couldn’t. We were truly stuck here. You had the option to open the door and walk out, so don’t blame me if you didn’t take it.”

 

Then she pivoted in place and grandly walked away, straight through the wall, her silk pajamas billowing gracefully behind her.

 

Whatever. I was glad she was gone. I closed my eyes, determined to forget all about her. And the other one—Florence. I didn’t need some old-timey, know-it-all ghosts following me around dead-shaming me.

 

Besides, it wouldn’t be long before my family was going to pack up and leave this place, probably forever. And one thing about my plans definitely hadn’t changed: living or dead, I wasn’t planning to stay here a minute longer than I had to.

 

I was going home if it killed me.

 

 

 

 

 

Hours later, a pair of police officers came back inside, and I followed them to the superintendent’s apartment.

 

My family’s bags were still piled in the corner, so they had to come back. Even if they couldn’t bring themselves to sleep here, surely they would return to get their things. And through the window, I could see that the car was still parked outside.

 

All I had to do was wait. With a sigh of relief, I sank onto the sofa, half expecting to crash to the floor, but the cushions caught me. I found a good spot to sit and stare at the car.

 

The police officers left. When the sky began to darken, I realized I’d been in the same spot for probably ten hours. But I wasn’t hungry, sore, or cramped. I didn’t even have to pee. I found these revelations terrifying. Without the minor needs of day-to-day life, was I even real anymore?

 

Even though I understood on some level that I was dead, that hadn’t stopped me from also thinking of myself as somehow alive. After all, I could still walk, and talk, and think …

 

But I wasn’t alive, was I?