Dream House Read Online Free Page A

almost sounds like hiccupping.
    So softly it sends chills down my spine.
    I lie there in the bed, petrified and completely motionless, with only my eyes peeping out over the covers, while whoever is in the wardrobe sobs away.
    Somehow, I gradually manage to calm myself down and force myself to accept that, even though the situation makes absolutely no sense—no sense at all—there isn’t any real reason for me to be afraid. Throwing the blankets aside, I set one foot warily after the other and slowly cross the carpet, moving closer and closer to the large wooden wardrobe until eventually I’m grasping its door handles.
    I don’t know what it is I’m expecting. To be honest, I don’t even really have any expectations, because I don’t want to let the thought that something awful might be hiding in there unnerve me.
    And so in one smooth, decisive motion, I throw both wardrobe doors wide open—and gaze uncomprehendingly at the little girl I find crouching within, huddled up and weeping in a corner under the jangling coat hangers.
    Her face is streaked with tears, and she is tightly hugging a soft toy—a white bunny rabbit with a bit of thread where one of its eyes used to be. She looks up at me.
    â€œWhere are they?” she asks pleadingly. “Why would they leave me?”
    Not knowing what to answer, nor even to whom she’s referring, I offer her my hand. She reaches out and takes it, letting me lead her from the wardrobe over to the bed. I sit her down on top of the covers and, perching myself next to her, ask her what she was doing in there.
    With lowered eyes she turns her head away, saying only, “They left me.”
    Seeing that she’s struggling to choke back her tears, I wait for a few seconds before asking my next question.
    â€œHow long have you been in there?”
    This time she looks me directly in the face and answers candidly, “I don’t know.”
    I tell her to stay there on the bed while I make us both some hot tea, and then head for the kitchen with the hope of giving myself a couple of minutes to think the situation through and maybe get some idea of what on earth is going on.
    Plenty of ideas do in fact come to mind while the kettle boils on the hob—but unfortunately none of them actually makes any sense, so I just focus on preparing the drinks and getting back to check on her as quickly as I’m able.
    I place the cups on a tray, along with a little sugar bowl and a couple of teaspoons, and set off down the darkening corridor. As my bare feet tread the creaking floor, the only thing I can see in front of me is the crack of light coming from around the door I’m slowly approaching.
    Unexpectedly, a weird sensation suddenly rushes through my entire body for a second, making me shiver violently.
    Something is wrong.
    As the thought takes root in my mind, I start walking faster and faster until I reach the bedroom door. With one foot, I push it open, then freeze in my tracks, in total shock at the terrible obscenity of what I am seeing.
    Fighting desperately to breathe, the little girl is hanging in mid-air, a thin, taut cord running from around her throat up to the chandelier. Her feet kick desperately against nothing.
    Overcome by panic, I drop the tray, and the teacups and sugar and spoons clatter to the floor. “No!” I scream the word as I run across the room and scramble up onto the bed, my fingers fumbling ineffectually at the knotted rope around her tiny neck, doing my best to release her.
    â€œNow it’s too late,” she whispers, her frenzied thrashing slowing. “They will never know I exist.”
    And just like that, she exhales her last breath.
    Somehow I manage to get her down, and, still crying with shock, sit on the bed with her little body cradled in my arms, squeezing her tightly to my chest as if maybe the beating of my heart might bring her back to life.
    But she’s not moving