CHAPTER TWENTY THREE – THE DOORBELL
She took a sharp breath. And reared up. From the smashed pillow. Where she'd fallen asleep. Crying. Her cheeks felt hard. Like they were going to crack. Her dried tears leaving salty trails.
She uncurled herself. From the swath of blankets. And set her feet down on the ground. She stood for a moment. Getting her bearings. Looking at the clock. It flickered. As she passed her hand through it.
Then she went towards the door. Opened it a sliver. Stood quiet.
There was nothing to be heard.
"Mommy?" she chanced. Breathy. And small.
Nothing.
"Mommy?" Louder now.
Still nothing.
Agatha yawned. And rubbed her eyes. Coming down the stairs.
"Mommy?" Again. Into the living room.
Nothing.
She went into the kitchen.
There was a note upon fridge. Telling her where they'd gone. Arranged under it. Were alphabet magnets. Saying. I LOVE YOU. I M SORRY.
She should have been mad. But she wasn't.
She smiled. And opened the freezer.
Taking out her half eaten milkshake. Closing the door. And going to get a spoon. She crawled up onto the counter. Turned on the holovision. And watched The Smurfs. Eating her half frozen milkshake.
She got through about four episodes. When the doorbell rang.
She didn't move. She wasn't suppose to answer the door.
There was a knock now.
"Lara?" A call from outside.
Agatha turned away. And looked at the door.
Another knock. "Lara? Are you there?"
The voice sounded familiar. So she crawled off the counter. Leaving her milkshake there. And the HV on.
She came to the door. Too small to see out the peephole.
"Don't open the door when I'm not here." Her mother had said. But something told her she had to. This time.
"Lara?" The call was sad.
"She's busy." Agatha said simply.
"Agatha?"
She blinked. The voice knew her name. That interested her in the identity of the person.
Finally. She opened the door.
And froze.
There. On the front porch was a man. Standing slump shouldered. In a long. Black. Trench coat. The collar drawn up. His face chalky. His eyes dark. And red. With bags beneath them. Dark. And blue. Showing that he'd been crying. And drugging.
He stood silent. Staring.
Agatha blinked at this man. Twisting the doorknob. With her hand.
"Hi daddy."
She took a sharp breath. And reared up. From the smashed pillow. Where she'd fallen asleep. Crying. Her cheeks felt hard. Like they were going to crack. Her dried tears leaving salty trails.
She uncurled herself. From the swath of blankets. And set her feet down on the ground. She stood for a moment. Getting her bearings. Looking at the clock. It flickered. As she passed her hand through it.
Then she went towards the door. Opened it a sliver. Stood quiet.
There was nothing to be heard.
"Mommy?" she chanced. Breathy. And small.
Nothing.
"Mommy?" Louder now.
Still nothing.
Agatha yawned. And rubbed her eyes. Coming down the stairs.
"Mommy?" Again. Into the living room.
Nothing.
She went into the kitchen.
There was a note upon fridge. Telling her where they'd gone. Arranged under it. Were alphabet magnets. Saying. I LOVE YOU. I M SORRY.
She should have been mad. But she wasn't.
She smiled. And opened the freezer.
Taking out her half eaten milkshake. Closing the door. And going to get a spoon. She crawled up onto the counter. Turned on the holovision. And watched The Smurfs. Eating her half frozen milkshake.
She got through about four episodes. When the doorbell rang.
She didn't move. She wasn't suppose to answer the door.
There was a knock now.
"Lara?" A call from outside.
Agatha turned away. And looked at the door.
Another knock. "Lara? Are you there?"
The voice sounded familiar. So she crawled off the counter. Leaving her milkshake there. And the HV on.
She came to the door. Too small to see out the peephole.
"Don't open the door when I'm not here." Her mother had said. But something told her she had to. This time.
"Lara?" The call was sad.
"She's busy." Agatha said simply.
"Agatha?"
She blinked. The voice knew her name. That interested her in the identity of the person.
Finally. She opened the door.
And froze.
There. On the front porch was a man. Standing slump shouldered. In a long. Black. Trench coat. The collar drawn up. His face chalky. His eyes dark. And red. With bags beneath them. Dark. And blue. Showing that he'd been crying. And drugging.
He stood silent. Staring.
Agatha blinked at this man. Twisting the doorknob. With her hand.
"Hi daddy."