Babysitting

            The speedometer dropped below twenty and the car turned into the driveway. The vehicle stopped, the girl put it into park, and took the keys out of the ignition. She ground her teeth slightly and glanced down at her gas gauge. The line was almost on empty. She stared out her windshield at the grey house in silence. Her eyes darted back down to her wheel. She glanced up at the house, back down at her gas gauge, and then back up at the house. Her fingers drummed against the wheel, and she pursed her lips. She shut her eyes for a moment, let out an inward sigh, and threw open her car door.

            Thunder rumbled subtly in the backdrop. Little raindrops sprinkled down from grey clouds. The girl ducked her head slightly and quickly made her way to the front door.

            Her finger pressed against the doorbell. A monotone ring buzzed inside the house, followed by a clattering of muffled voices. The door swung open, and the teenager was met with the smiling face of a blond-haired woman in a purple dress. She smiled gleefully.

            “Ashley! You’re here! Welcome!” she eagerly waved her inside. “Come in, come in!”

            The teenager named Ashley stepped inside the little house. Her thumbs dug deeper into her jean pockets. Her expressionless face scanned over the entryway with minimal interest; her lips pursed slightly at the unrealistically happy family photographs in perfect picture frames, posters of her husband’s low-budget films, and paintings with words like “laughter” and “joy” and “hope” littering the walls like graffiti on a cargo train.

            “So Ashley, how have you been? I heard you got your license. Congratulations!” she said in her disgustingly perky voice.

            Ashley nodded. “Yeah, I did,”

            “How is your dad?”

            “He’s fine,”

            “I, um, heard he’s looking for work – “

            “He’s fine.”

            She hesitated, and her perky smile seemed to dissipate. “Right. I’m sure he is,” her smile slowly came back. “I’m sure it’s none of my business anyway. I’m glad you came, though,” her tone dropped two octaves and the volume decreased. “I was worried you wouldn’t . . .”

            Ashley sighed. “I’m here now. How long are you going to be gone?”

            Her smile sprung back to life and her voice’s perky pitch came back in full swing. “Harold and I will be back late tonight; probably after midnight. If you need us, I wrote our phone numbers down, - oh! – “ she grabs a folded piece of paper from off a side table. “ – and this is a list of things you need to know,”

            Ashley took the paper and gave it a funny look. “Like, what kind of ‘things’?”

            She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Oh, you know, things like Suzie’s bedtime, what she can watch on TV, how much food to feed the dog, stuff like that,”

            “Oh, um, OK,”

            “Make sure you go over everything, follow all of the rules, and call us if you need anything,”

            Ashley shrugged. “Sure. No problem,”

            She slipped on her coat and sighed. “Harold! We’re going to be late! Hurry up!”

            “Alright! Alright! I’ll be down in a second!” a muffled, slightly irritated voice called back down. A series of footsteps pounded in hurried rhythm down the staircase like a pianist running his finger down the line of white keys. At the bottom, a man in a blue tuxedo adjusted his tie and jogged over to his wife. A little girl no older than six with blond pigtails lingered behind him.

            The man took his jacket from off a hook and slipped it on. He smiled at Ashley. “Hi Ashley. I’m glad you came,”

            She shrugged. “Whatever. It’s no big deal,”

            “I’m still appreciative. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to find a babysitter in time,”

            Behind him, his wife insistently cleared her throat and nodded her head towards the door. Harold took notice of her prodding and appeased her demands.

            “Anyway, we need to get going, or we’ll, um, be late for our – “

            “Dinner reservations!” his wife said suddenly, interrupting him in an unnatural way.

            He nodded, a little quickly. “Right,”

            Ashley stared back and forth between them for a moment before shrugging indifferently. “OK. Um, have fun on your . . . date night?”

            They both nodded.  “Yes, a date night!” Harold confirmed, though his smile was a little awkward.

            Ashley didn’t say anything. The couple filed out the door and wished her goodnight. The little girl waved goodbye to her parents.

            Harold grinned and waved to his little angel. “Goodnight, Suzie! Have fun and make sure you do everything Ashley tells you, alright?”

            She nodded numbly. “Yes sir,” her feet shifted uncomfortably.

            “Good. I’ll you in the morning, sweetheart!” he closed the door behind him.

            Ashley brushed back her rich brown hair, put her hands on her hips, and turned to face Suzie. The little girl crossed her arms.

            “So – “ Ashley’s arms fell to her sides and patted against her legs. “ – what do you want to do?”

            “I’m hungry,”

            “OK, so . . . what do you want to eat?”

            “Mac ‘n’ cheese,”

            She shrugged. “Alright,” she walked into the kitchen, set her car keys on the divorce papers, and prodded through the cupboards until she pulled out a little box with a cheese mascot on the front. She held the box in the air for the six-year-old to see.

            “This look good?”

            She nodded fervently. “Uh-huh!”

*****

            The little girl scraped the bottom of the glass bowl with her spoon and shoved the remaining Mac ‘n’ cheese into her mouth. In the corner of the room, the dog snored and snorted luridly like a hog with a stuffy nose. The wall clock ticked rhythmically with the leaky faucet in the kitchen. Ashley scrubbed the remaining powered cheese from the metal bowl. She turned the faucet handle and warm water gently rushed out like a soothing waterfall. Unnaturally colored yellow water swirled down the drain in an almost hypnotic vortex.

            Ashley unfolded the piece of paper Suzie’s mom had given her. The list read:

                Make sure Suzie goes to bed at 8:30 PM

                Suzie can only watch the movies laid out on the living room coffee table

                Feed the dog exactly two cups of food

                If the dog has to go out, he’ll sit by the door

                Make sure Suzie brushes her teeth before going to bed

                She can only have one desert

                Don’t touch Harold’s movie equipment

                Don’t answer the door to anyone

                Stay out of the basement after dark

                If you need anything, here are our numbers:

                                Wanda – 342-643-0985

                                Harold – 342-1193-8494

            “Ashley! I finished my Mac ‘n’ cheese! Can I have some ice cream now?” The little girl called out to her brown-haired babysitter.

            Ashley set the sponge in her hand down and peeled off the rubber gloves she had been wearing. She cracked a smile. “Sure, Suzie. Put your bowl in the sink and I’ll scoop some up for you,”

            “OK,” the little girl named Suzie hopped out of her chair, grabbed her dirty dishes, and pushed them onto the counter next to the sink.

            “Suzie, I said put them in the sink, not right next to it,”

            Suzie let out an exasperated and exaggerated groan and nearly dropped the glass bowl into the wet sink.

            Ashley gave Suzie a look. “Suzie! Don’t drop them! They might break, and then I’ll have to explain why one of your parents’ dishes are broken. Please be more careful and don’t give me attitude, or you won’t get any ice cream,”

            Suzie resisted the urge to stomp back to her seat and flopped back down in her chair. She threw her arms onto the table and rested her head in them. A gust of air blew out of her mouth and temporarily pushed her blond bangs out of her eyes.

            Ashley pulled her long hair back into a ponytail. She glanced over at Suzie. “What kind of ice cream do you want?”

            “Chocolate,”

            “Alright,” she pulled open the freezer door and scanned the shelves for the frozen desert. She squinted and pushed aside a box of frozen waffles and cold hamburgers, but couldn’t find any ice cream.

            She shrugged. “Sorry, Suzie. It looks like there’s no more ice cream,”

            “Check the basement!”

            “What?”

            “Daddy keeps extra ice cream in the basement,”

            Ashley figured she was talking about a freezer downstairs. “Are you allowed to have it?”

            “Uh-huh. Daddy lets me have a scoop after dinner,”

            Ashley eyed her for a moment before conceding. “OK, I’ll get it,” she held up her finger. “Just one scoop,”

            She nodded eagerly.

            Ashley left the kitchen and turned the corner. Immediately on her right was the door to the basement. Her eyes darted to the window behind her. Dusk was fading into nightfall. The last rule on the list rung crisp and clear in her ears: Don’t go in the basement after dark.

            What a weird rule. Ashley thought, but ignored its heed since it specifically stated “after dark”, and the sun had not yet set below the horizon. Her hand turned the knob and pulled the creaking door open. Blackness sung before her and greeted her with an outstretched hand, like a gentleman aiding a lady into a horse drawn carriage. Ashley accepted its kind offer and trotted down the unfinished wooden steps. Miscellaneous items like cord phones, baseball bats, dusty cameras, strange props, cheap backdrops, and odd, untouched wedding gifts decorated the walls and shelves. Cobwebs hung from corners and wooden support beams like decorations for a Halloween party. Darkness beckoned her further into basement, and her adjusting eyes guided her to her frozen prize. Her feet connected with the floor at the bottom of the stairs and echoed softly off the dusty walls. In her peripheral vision, she spotted a looming white fridge. She tiptoed over the cold concrete floor and pulled open the freezer. It only took her a moment to find the ice cream, snatch it from its place on the top shelf, and close the magnetic door.

    A great peel of thunder crashed outside, and the house shook slightly. Ashley froze. Her eyes darted behind her, certain she had heard something shatter.

    For several heartbeats, she stood still, carefully and meticulously scanning the unfinished basement. Nothing happened. Nothing moved. The only sound came from the thunderous weather grumbling outside.

She shivered and tightened her grip on the carton of ice cream. The blackness hummed joyfully. Ashley’s heart rate quickened and her stomach tightened. She took a step back towards the stairs. Outside, thunder snarled. She turned to look out the window expecting to see grey clouds showering water down upon the earth and lightning splitting the sky in half, but what met her eyes was something entirely different. A girl, maybe a few years older than Suzie with short black hair that reached halfway down her neck, but with unusually long bangs that covered half her face and grew below her chin, was standing outside. Unmoving and staring at the wet ground. Draped over her was a bright red raincoat, the color of newly blossomed roses.

            For a moment, Ashley simply stared. The girl didn’t move, speak, or even seem to breathe. She was almost . . . unnatural.

            What, is she new to the neighborhood or something? Ashley wondered.

            When the girl still didn’t move, she turned around, walked back up the stairs, and shut the door behind her. Out the window, the lighter dusk had transformed into dark grey-blue. Ashley turned the corner into the kitchen. Suzie turned her head in greeting. Her eyes darted to the carton in anticipation.

            Ashley held up the ice cream. “I got it,”

            Suzie smiled, and Ashley scooped up a serving of ice cream for her. She slid the bowl across the table and handed her a spoon.

            “Ashley?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Where’s the whip cream?”

            Her neutral expression melted into a puzzled frown. “What?”

            “You forgot the whip cream! You can’t have ice cream without whip cream!” she explained innocently but seriously, as if was as important and essential as the chocolate on a s’more.

            “OK then, I’ll just get some from the fridge . . . “   

    “No, no! It’s in the basement fridge downstairs!”

            Ashley put her hands on her hips. “Why is everything in the fridge downstairs, why not in this fridge?” she gestured to the white machine behind her.

            “Not everything is in the downstairs fridge, just the desserts,” she explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

            “Why?” She questioned and raised an eyebrow at her.

            She shrugged. “I dunno,”

            Ashley stared at her for a moment, as if unsure of how to respond, but caved and simply rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll get your whipped cream,”

            “Yay!” she cheered just as Ashley was making her descent down the flight of stairs for the second time.

            Why couldn’t she have asked for it the first time I came down here? Ashley grumbled and threw open the fridge door. She reached into the back of the second shelf and pulled out the plastic container of sugary cream.

            CRAAAAASSH!!

            Ashley jumped, nearly dropping the plastic container in her hand. A little scream leapt from her mouth before her hand covered it. Her breathing quickened and her heart rate spiked. The blackness seemed to chuckle at her fear. Her eyes strained to find the source of the noise. They froze on an overturned side table in the corner of the room. The scattered remains of a shattered vase with foggy glass decorated the concrete. It edges protruded in sharp peaks like a jagged mountain range. Spilt water slowly spread like a virus beneath and around the pieces. And at the center of the silent discord lay a single, pretty little rose.

            Ashley stared at it quizzically for a moment before bending down to examine it. With two fingers that quivered ever so slightly, she plucked the fallen rose from the puddle. She twirled it with her fingers, looking down at the blossom with curiosity. It was odd: what was such a beautiful flower doing in a place like this?

            Moments after the she formed the thought, the petals seemed to twitch. Her brow furrowed slightly and she peered closer, but her eyes only widened in stunned horror when the flower wilted in her hand. The petals rotted and caved in on themselves like a reassuring smile morphing into a hateful snarl. The stem withered and the end curled up, but the thorns grew longer and longer until they pricked Ashley’s finger. She dropped the rose and it landed soundlessly in the puddle. The rich and vibrant red color from the rose oozed out of its decayed petals and melted into the water. Scarlet overtook the transparent liquid and spread further across the concrete.

            Ashley stood up and took a fearful step back. Crashing thunder shook the house. She glanced over her shoulder to look out the window and froze.

            The girl in the red raincoat was still there.

            Ashley shook her head slightly and her faced reflected her own confusion, until her gaze shifted to her hands. Her eyes widened in a concoction of terror and horror. She wanted to scream.

            Red raindrops slowly dripped down her red coat from her red-coated face. Little red drops fell steadily from the silver knife in her hand onto her black rubber boots. Her face was expressionless, and her eyes invisible through her hood and bangs.

            The plastic container fell to the floor, but by the time it made contact with the concrete, Ashley was already halfway up the flight of stairs.

            “Suzie! SUZIE! Answer me! Where are you?! SUZIE!!” she threw open the basement door and sprinted around the corner. Her feet froze in place and for a few moments she forgot to breathe. Ashley wanted to keel over and puke, but instead she rushed to the little girl’s side.

            “Suzie? Suzie! Oh God,” she brushed the little girl’s sticky, darkened hair from her red face and cupped her face in her hands. Ashley froze when she realized it wasn’t Suzie. The girl’s face contorted ever so slightly as if an invisible sculptor were reshaping her likeness. Her blond hair untangled itself from the restrictive ponytails and darkened into a rich brown identical to Ashley’s. Her skin paled with Ashley’s face when she realized whom Suzie had morphed into.

            The little girl lying in the pool of scarlet was . . . herself.

            Ashley eyelids collapsed and she fell unconscious to the ground like a tree that had been cut down.

*****

            Wanda blew her nose for the umpteenth time and wept into her hand. Harold reached out to rub her back in comforting, but hesitated, and decided against it altogether.

            The investigator sitting across from them finished writing something down in his notepad. He looked at Ashley. “Is that everything?”

            Ashley nodded numbly and rubbed her bloody hands together. “Yes. I’ve told you everything I know,”

            Wanda let out another sob.

            The investigator clicked his pen and put it in his pocket. He nodded sympathetically to the parents. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he stood and turned to leave.

            “Hang on, detective,” Harold turned to look Ashley in the eye. “Ashley, there’s something about your story that doesn’t make sense,”

            The investigator took his pen out of his pocket.

            Ashley gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

            “You said you saw this . . . girl in a window, right? Down in the basement?”

            She nodded.

            His face grew serious. “Ashley, there are no windows in the basement,”

            Her face contorted in surprise. “What?”

            He shook his head. “There are no windows: only mirrors.”