The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall
By: Katie Alender
She wouldn’t go to college, because she would feel too guilty that I never had a chance to go. She would spend her whole life trying not to do anything that would make me envious or sad. Everything would be about me and the chance that she might find a way to make me just a shade more real, to bring me back to her, even if it was only an illusion.
But I wasn’t real, was I? And I wasn’t coming back.
We were nearing the edge of the property.
This was my final crossroads.
I knew that if I wanted to, I could leave with my family.
But I also knew … I couldn’t.
“I want you to know,” I said to them, “that you are the best family a girl could have ever asked for. Dad, you were always there for me. You answered every question I ever asked you honestly, even if you didn’t want to. Mom, you were my rock. You loved me even when I was awful to you. You took care of me every minute of my life. You were my first love.”
I turned to my sister. “And, Janie … Janie, my bright, fierce, amazing baby sister. You’re so ridiculously smart. And strong. And loyal. You’re a hero. You’re going to change the world.”
Time sped up. Inexplicably, Dad slammed his foot on the brake, and the car stopped.
They were all silent.
“Just wait a second,” Dad said, his voice gruff with wonder. “Listen …”
They listened.
“I love you all,” I said. “I love you so much.”
They all looked at one another, their eyes wide, in a triangle of did you hear something?
“It’s time for me to go now,” I said.
And then I climbed out of the car.
I watched them drive away.
As I walked back up the driveway, I could see the hungry flames through the faraway windows, devouring everything inside. In the distance, sirens blared, but I knew they’d never save the building. Rotburg was too small a town to fight a fire of this scale on short notice, and besides that, the fire was tearing through the house as if it had been waiting a hundred and fifty years for the chance.
More ghosts were outside now, standing in clumps and staring up at our former home. There were women of every age—teens and old ladies, wearing everything from drab hospital-issue nightgowns to elaborate velvet robes. There was also Theo, standing among them.
And they were all … changing.
Each one of them seemed to glow around their edges with a silvery outline. The ones who were hunched had begun to stand straighter. The ones who’d worn haunted, faraway looks seemed to be returning to awareness.
The edges of my vision were beginning to blur.
“Delia!”
Theo could see me? He left the crowd and came walking over—unhurried as usual.
He was glowing, too.
“What did you do?” he asked, a broad smile on his face. “It was you, wasn’t it? It had to be you.”
“I guess,” I said. “I thought it was time somebody took care of the problem.”
He looked at me, and there was a gentleness, an openness, in his eyes. As if some great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Do you … Can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”
“Okay,” I said.
He moved closer, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me sweetly.
It was the kiss from the end of an amazing first date. A good-bye with a hello attached to it. An I hope we meet again kiss. A had circumstances been different this would have been only the first of many kisses kiss.
It was brief, but it ignited some new sense of joy in me, some moment of letting go, of realizing that Landon was never the love of my life, and that was okay—maybe I didn’t have one yet. Maybe I never would.
But if I had, a kiss like this one might have been how it started.
Theo pulled away and cocked his head. “On to a new adventure. Perhaps we’ll meet somewhere else along the path.”
“I hope so,” I said.
He took a few backward steps and started to disappear. Right before he vanished, he smiled at me and waved. I waved back. Then I kept making my way toward the house.
A lovely little girl about ten years old, with thick dark-brown hair flowing over her shoulders, came running up to me.
“You came back!” she said. “She said you’d come back.”
“Oh my—Maria?” I asked.
Maria beamed. “I’m pretty again, aren’t I? Don’t say it. I don’t mind being pretty, but I don’t want to turn vain.”
Her face was perfect and her skin was smooth. Her body was whole and healthy.
“You’ve always been pretty,” I said.
The fog was pushing in farther, giving everything an ethereal glow.
She glanced over at Penitence with the affectionate possessiveness only a child can have. “Mother says we’re going someplace. All of us.”
“I suppose we are,” I said.
“Look,” Maria said, pointing behind me.
Each of the ghosts around us was starting to fade—her subtle white glow gradually taking over her body and then dissolving into thin air. Every one of them wore a serene expression. The wretched women from the third floor, Nurse Carlson, Rosie and Posie … One by one, they disappeared.
“Where are we going?” Maria asked. “Will it be nice?”
Penitence came over and reached for Maria’s hand. “It’s a place where mothers and daughters are never apart.”
“And sisters?” Maria asked, looking at me.