Chapter 2
The hallway was filled with nothing but the ticking of the clock. I curled up in bed, listening to footsteps downstairs. Mom was pacing again—she did this every night.
'Here she comes.'
The door suddenly swung open. Mom stood in the doorway, the hallway light behind her stretching her shadow long and dark. Her eyes gleamed strangely in the darkness.
"Get up, Iris." Her voice was quiet.
I rubbed my eyes, pretending I'd just woken up. "Mom? It's nighttime..."
"I said get up!" She walked over and grabbed my arm, her grip tight enough to hurt. "You like talking to dead people, don't you? Come on, let me introduce you to your friends."
She dragged me downstairs, my feet nearly tripping on the steps. Dad was on call tonight, so it was just the three of us at home. No light came from Grandma's room—she must be asleep.
The basement door creaked. A sharp chemical smell hit me, making me almost cough. Mom flicked on the light, casting a dim yellow glow down the stairs.
"Go down." She pushed me forward.
The stairs were steep. I carefully went down step by step.
"You love dead people so much?" Mom's voice echoed in the empty room as she followed me down. "Come on, take a look at your future home!"
"They say it's cold here," I said softly, staring at the sheet.
Mom shuddered. "What do you mean?!"
I turned to face her, trying to keep my voice sounding innocent. "They say... there'll be a new friend coming soon."
Her face went deathly pale. "Who?! Who's talking to you?!"
"Them." I pointed at the embalming tables. "They say you visit them often, but you always look unhappy."
Mom suddenly grabbed my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. "Listen, you little freak. If you keep playing these sick games, I'll make sure you stay with them forever. Understand?"
I nodded, but at the same time, I carefully studied the staircase structure. Thirteen steps, handrail on the right, wall on the left. Very steep—if someone fell from the top...
'Just like I saw in my dream.'
"I understand, Mom," I said obediently. "I won't say strange things anymore."
She stared at me for a long time, then let go. "Upstairs. Go back to bed."
Back in my room, I lay in bed thinking about what had just happened.
The next morning, Grandma knocked on my door.
"Sweetheart, time to get up." Her voice was warm and gentle, completely different from Mom's.
I sat up slowly, deliberately looking tired. Grandma walked in and immediately noticed the dark circles under my eyes.
"Oh my, didn't you sleep well last night?" She sat on the edge of the bed and felt my forehead.
"Mom said she wanted to introduce me to new friends, but it was so cold there." I leaned into her embrace, enjoying the warmth I'd been missing.
Grandma's body suddenly tensed. "What new friends?"
"The quiet uncles and aunts downstairs." I looked up at her. "Mom said if I didn't behave, I'd have to be friends with them."
Grandma's face changed instantly. Her hand trembled as she stroked my cheek. "Sweetheart, Mom... Mom took you to the basement?"
I nodded. "She said since I like talking to them, I should go see them. But it was really cold, and there was a weird smell."
"Oh my God..." Grandma's voice became very soft.
She held me tighter. I could feel her heartbeat quicken. Grandma was smart—she knew what this meant. A five-year-old child, taken to the funeral home basement in the middle of the night...
"Sweetheart, if Mom ever wants to take you there again, you come find Grandma, okay?" Her voice shook slightly.
"Okay, Grandma." I agreed sweetly.
I knew Grandma would now watch Mom's every move more carefully. This was exactly what I needed.
At lunchtime, Dad finally came home. He looked exhausted.
He kissed my forehead, then went to the kitchen to help Mom prepare lunch.
Mom still looked nervous. She kept glancing at me, as if I might say something terrible at any moment.
We sat at the dining table and began eating. Grandma sat next to me, occasionally patting my back gently. I could feel her protecting me.
"Dad, I had a strange dream," I suddenly said.
Dad put down his fork and looked at me. "What dream, sweetheart?"
"There was a pretty lady who fell down the stairs, and then she became one of the friends we take care of." I looked directly at Mom. "She was wearing white clothes, just like the kind Mom wears."
Mom's water glass suddenly slipped from her hand and crashed on the table. Glass shards scattered everywhere. Water spilled across the table, and her face turned paper white.
"Enough! Stop saying these things!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the dining room.
Dad jumped up, startled. "Delilah? What's wrong?"
"I... I..." Mom stared at me, trembling, her eyes filled with terror. "She... she always says these horrible things!"
Grandma quietly began cleaning up the glass shards, but her eyes never stopped watching Mom's reaction.
"Sweetheart, it was just a dream." Dad knelt down and hugged me, but I could feel his confusion. "Dreams aren't real, right?"
"But sometimes the things I dream about happen." I said innocently. "Like yesterday I dreamed Mom would take me to the basement, and then she really did."
Dad's body went rigid. He slowly turned to look at Mom, his eyes showing an expression I'd never seen before.
"Delilah, you took Iris to the basement last night?"
Mom's lips trembled, unable to speak.
After Dad put me down for a nap, I heard heated arguing downstairs. I tiptoed to the top of the stairs and crouched by the railing to listen.
"...she's only five years old! Why would you take her to that place in the middle of the night?" Dad's voice was full of anger.
"Marcus, you don't understand!" Mom's voice sounded hysterical. "She knows... she knows everything!"
"Knows what? Delilah, what are you talking about?"
"She can talk to dead people! She knows what we've done! She..." Mom's voice suddenly stopped.
There was a long silence. Then I heard Dad sigh deeply.
"Delilah, I think you need rest. This stress is making you..."
"No!" Mom interrupted him. "Marcus, she has to... we have to..."
"Have to what?"
More silence. I could imagine Mom pacing in the living room, just like she had in the basement last night.
Dad was starting to suspect Mom, and Grandma was starting to protect me.
But I also knew Mom was more dangerous now. People backed into corners do crazy things. My birthday party was still a few days away, and the scene from my dream could become reality at any moment.
I touched my neck, imagining that suffocating feeling.
