The Fall of Never(75)

“What are you doing in there?”

“This is where the dead girls go,” Mouse said.

“You’re not dead.”

“Just tired.”

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“No you haven’t,” Mouse said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Something occurred to Kelly then: “I’m dreaming.”

“Do you remember him?”

Again, Kelly felt her skin break out in gooseflesh. Jarred by a clacking sound, she looked down and realized she’d dropped the forks. Some had even spilled across her bare feet.

“Come in here,” Mouse said.

“Can’t,” she whispered back. “Scared.”

“It’s just me, Kellerella.”

“Stop saying that.”

The door creaked open wider. A strip of light caught motion from inside. Kelly saw white skin and a tattered nightdress the color of bad teeth.

“Come on.”

“I’m scared,” Kelly said again. She’d taken a step away from the closet.

“You weren’t scared before.” Again, some movement within the closet—something brushing up against something else. Then, with sudden understanding, Mouse added: “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you, dear? I should have known that.”

“What?”

“We’ve been in here before, you and I. Together. One time. Do you remember?”

And it was as if those words carried Kelly back to that night—the creaking stairwell, Mouse’s slender shadow moving against the corridor, the hushed disturbance of their breathing. The sound of their bare feet patting against the floor was like a muted ovation. The closet was closed that night and it had been Mouse who’d opened it. It opened without a sound, Kelly remembered. And why had they gone to the closet in the first place?

“It was the only place you felt safe,” Mouse said suddenly, bringing her back. “It was your idea. It was the only place you felt safe telling me about him.”

A shudder wracked her body and she suddenly felt the need to urinate. “God,” she croaked, pushing herself back against the wall.

“Do you remember?”

“I can’t remember anything,” she sobbed.

“This is all half-real, Kellerella,” whispered Mouse. Another shuffling footstep inside the closet.

Kelly’s body tightened. “Who else is in there with you?” Her voice fell like icy darkness pushing up through her throat. “You’re not alone in there. Who is it?”

A muffled giggle. The sound of heavy breathing.

“Mouse!” Kelly screamed and sprung forward. With both hands she grasped the door and swung it open with such force that it slammed against the wall and nearly rebounded closed.

Mouse was not inside the closet. The two girls Kelly saw were naked and emaciated, their skin blue and hairless, their eyes bulged to reptilian exaggeration. The two dead girls, Kelly thought instantly—but no, they weren’t dead, they were alive, were moving…

One of the girls bolted into a sitting position as if her body were on a spring. When she opened her mouth, Kelly saw her teeth and gums were black.

“Kellerella,” croaked the dead girl.

Kelly screamed.



Her fever broke two days later and she awoke hungry and dehydrated. Glenda stood above her bed, smiling down at her.

“There, darling,” Glenda said. “You’re back with us now.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“You’ve had a fever. What in the world possessed you to go outside in such weather?”

“Outside?” She hardly remembered. “What happened?”

“Mr. Kildare found you halfway down the embankment on the side of the house. It is a good thing. Lord knows how long you’d been out there.”

She remembered going outside, remembered seeing something in the woods…

“I’m thirsty,” she groaned.

“Here.” Glenda poured a glass of water from a pitcher resting on the night table and handed it to Kelly, who drank it in three large swallows. “Bad dreams?”

“Just strange. Why?”

“Talking in your sleep.” Glenda smiled. “You used to do that often as a child.”

“The amazing Kelly Kellow.” Surprised at how easy the name slipped from her mouth, she just shook her head and set the empty glass back on the night table. She suddenly felt overcome with weakness. “Becky?”

Glenda sighed. “The doctors are still coming around. I’m afraid there has been no change in her condition. Poor dear.”

“I’m worried about her.”

“We all are.”

“Sure,” she said, recalling the way her parents stood idly by during each visit from Becky’s doctor.

Glenda slipped around the side of the bed and produced what appeared to be a large leather folder with brass buckles. “Your suitor has been worried about you as well, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Gabriel?”

“Such a nice boy.” Glenda placed the folder on Kelly’s lap. Scrambling to sit up, Kelly leaned against the headboard and unbuckled the brass clasps at the bottom of the folder. “He’s certainly had you on the brain, I’d say.”