The Night Sister

Maybe Margot was right. Maybe Amy was setting all this up somehow, leaving little clues like bread crumbs. It was all some crazy game to make the last few days of summer vacation a little less boring.

“So let’s go find them! My grandfather’s old office is full of papers and junk. Let’s go check it out!”





2013





Piper


Piper could almost hear the vague echoes of footsteps as she stood in the front hall now: her own, Amy’s, Margot’s, as they trotted down the stairs and ran into the office to search for evidence of the twenty-ninth room. She followed the ghost steps down the hallway and peered into the office, which looked nearly the same as she remembered: peeling wallpaper, teetering stacks of papers, boxes and books everywhere.

The air in the old house smelled musty, used up. She longed to open a window, but knew it wasn’t her place. Besides, she wouldn’t be here long. She was getting Lou a bag of clothes, and then she was getting the hell out.

Off to her left, she heard a slight shuffling sound coming from the kitchen. Mice? Or old Grandma Charlotte pushing back her chair?

When Death comes knocking on your door,

you’ll think you’ve seen his face before.



Piper jumped as her phone rang, chirping “Like a Prayer” too loud in this quiet place. She fumbled through her bag, trying to answer it as quickly as she could.

“Hey,” she said, voice library-quiet.

“Did you find anything?” Margot asked.

“Not yet. I just got here, for God’s sake,” Piper said.

“Sorry. Where are you right now?”

“The front hall.” Glancing furtively around, she saw no sign of movement.

But was there another noise from the kitchen? The shuffle of feet?

If you hold up a mirror, you shall see

that he is you and you are he.



“Piper?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I have a really bad feeling about this. I think you should get out of there.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, ’cause that’s exactly my plan. I’m just gonna run upstairs and grab a few things for Lou; then I’m gone.”

“Call me when you’re done.”

“Will do.”

“And—Piper?—hurry.”

As if she needed encouragement.

Piper hung up and hustled up the stairs. She was stopped short by the bloodstains. They were everywhere—the carpet was saturated in places, covered in thick smears, smudges, and grotesque footprints of dark coagulated blood. There were even some reddish-brown splatters on the faded wallpaper.

Down the hall to the left was the master bedroom. That was where Amy’s husband had been found, the first to be shot. In the middle of the hall was the bathroom, then the second bedroom, which used to be Grandma Charlotte’s. Piper gave the door a tentative push, and it opened to reveal posters of football players, a huge spaceport built from Legos on the dresser.

Levi’s room. Eight years old, and the second to die. The bed frame was bare, the mattress taken away.

Piper backed up, head swimming, stomach queasy.

She moved along the edge of the wall, doing her best to avoid the stains on the floor (was this all Amy’s blood?) as she lurched down the hall on rubbery legs.

Just do what you need to do and get out, she told herself, heading for what must be Lou’s room, down at the end of the hall.

The room that had once been Amy’s.

She remembered the little motel sign that had hung from the doorknob back then: Please Do Not Disturb.

She put her hand on the knob now, the knob that Amy had touched countless times, that had once been warm from the heat of her hand.

Now it was as cold as ice.

Go away, it seemed to say. You don’t belong.