Read Online Hereafter by Jennifer Snyder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Snyder
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those dishes, I mean wash them —get in the cracks, make them sparkle!” an older woman shouted. “Since you refuse to listen…you’re going to spend your timeout in here.” Rage dripped from the woman’s words.
“Please, no, Mrs. Willard! Please, don’t make me go in there alone! Don’t lock me inside there again. I promise I’ll clean the rest of the dishes good!” The little girl sobbed. “I promise!”
“Hush it, Salene, and get inside!” the woman insisted harshly. She jerked the door open to the bedroom we stood in. “I gave you your warning yesterday. Today, you’ll spend fifteen minutes in timeout!”
My hands flew to my mouth as I realized who the little girl was—my mother. The name Mrs. Willard danced through my mind until I remembered why it sounded so familiar. It had been the name of my mother’s meanest babysitter. Glancing around the room again, I struggled to remember what it was my mother had said about this house and the time when Mrs. Willard had been her babysitter. I couldn’t remember anything. Maybe it was because she had never said anything in particular, only that the house had been just as horrible as her babysitter.
I watched as my mother’s tiny six-year-old-looking frame was flung across the threshold and into the room with unnecessary force. The door was slammed shut behind her and locked from the outside. Ebony hair swayed around her shoulders as her bright green eyes, wide with terror, searched the room.
“Can she see us?” I asked Val in a faint whisper.
“No,” Val answered, her voice nearly as low as mine. She’d sat up on the bed and froze in place, the same as Jet and I had.
My mother’s tiny feet carried her to the window Jet stood at. He shifted out of her way, pressing his back against the window. She passed him, oblivious to his presence, and latched onto the chair in the corner. She tugged, moving it until it was directly in front of the window. Jet backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving her. I continued watching her, unmoving and completely mesmerized by the sight of her as a child, as she sat and gazed out the window. Her rapid breath fogged up the little patch of glass in front of her face.
“I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m happy. I’m safe,” she repeated. “I’m outside playing in the garden.”
Jet moved to my side just as the temperature of the room dropped drastically, its iciness seeping into my soul. My mother pulled her tiny legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly as though she could feel the temperature shift as well. She buried her face into her knees, her silky hair creating a shield between her and whatever it was about this room that frightened her.
“I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m happy. I’m safe,” she continued to chant at a faster pace now, her warm breath slipping between her strands of hair and coiling up into the air before disappearing.
A shadowy figure became visible directly behind her. It was a tall man dressed in strange clothes. He loomed over her small frame with a twisted smile on his face. As he extended his arm, splaying out his bony fingers covered in dirt to reach for her, I again felt the spasms of fear and panic twist my soul even tighter. As soon as the figure touched her, my mother grew still and silent. The only sound that filled the room was her labored breathing.
“Please leave me alone,” she whispered in a tiny voice.
“What have you done today, Elizabeth?” the man asked, his voice rough and loud. Its harshness bounced off the walls and sent a shiver through me.
“Nothing, I haven’t done anything.” She tilted her head up toward the man. “And I’m not Elizabeth. My name is Salene.” Her voice quivered when she spoke.
The man reached out and gripped her upper arm, hard. Her startled scream echoed along the walls, but as his grip tightened, it faded to nothing but a tiny whimper.
“Is this real? Did this really happen to my mother?” I asked, even
“Please, no, Mrs. Willard! Please, don’t make me go in there alone! Don’t lock me inside there again. I promise I’ll clean the rest of the dishes good!” The little girl sobbed. “I promise!”
“Hush it, Salene, and get inside!” the woman insisted harshly. She jerked the door open to the bedroom we stood in. “I gave you your warning yesterday. Today, you’ll spend fifteen minutes in timeout!”
My hands flew to my mouth as I realized who the little girl was—my mother. The name Mrs. Willard danced through my mind until I remembered why it sounded so familiar. It had been the name of my mother’s meanest babysitter. Glancing around the room again, I struggled to remember what it was my mother had said about this house and the time when Mrs. Willard had been her babysitter. I couldn’t remember anything. Maybe it was because she had never said anything in particular, only that the house had been just as horrible as her babysitter.
I watched as my mother’s tiny six-year-old-looking frame was flung across the threshold and into the room with unnecessary force. The door was slammed shut behind her and locked from the outside. Ebony hair swayed around her shoulders as her bright green eyes, wide with terror, searched the room.
“Can she see us?” I asked Val in a faint whisper.
“No,” Val answered, her voice nearly as low as mine. She’d sat up on the bed and froze in place, the same as Jet and I had.
My mother’s tiny feet carried her to the window Jet stood at. He shifted out of her way, pressing his back against the window. She passed him, oblivious to his presence, and latched onto the chair in the corner. She tugged, moving it until it was directly in front of the window. Jet backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving her. I continued watching her, unmoving and completely mesmerized by the sight of her as a child, as she sat and gazed out the window. Her rapid breath fogged up the little patch of glass in front of her face.
“I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m happy. I’m safe,” she repeated. “I’m outside playing in the garden.”
Jet moved to my side just as the temperature of the room dropped drastically, its iciness seeping into my soul. My mother pulled her tiny legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly as though she could feel the temperature shift as well. She buried her face into her knees, her silky hair creating a shield between her and whatever it was about this room that frightened her.
“I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m happy. I’m safe,” she continued to chant at a faster pace now, her warm breath slipping between her strands of hair and coiling up into the air before disappearing.
A shadowy figure became visible directly behind her. It was a tall man dressed in strange clothes. He loomed over her small frame with a twisted smile on his face. As he extended his arm, splaying out his bony fingers covered in dirt to reach for her, I again felt the spasms of fear and panic twist my soul even tighter. As soon as the figure touched her, my mother grew still and silent. The only sound that filled the room was her labored breathing.
“Please leave me alone,” she whispered in a tiny voice.
“What have you done today, Elizabeth?” the man asked, his voice rough and loud. Its harshness bounced off the walls and sent a shiver through me.
“Nothing, I haven’t done anything.” She tilted her head up toward the man. “And I’m not Elizabeth. My name is Salene.” Her voice quivered when she spoke.
The man reached out and gripped her upper arm, hard. Her startled scream echoed along the walls, but as his grip tightened, it faded to nothing but a tiny whimper.
“Is this real? Did this really happen to my mother?” I asked, even
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