6

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

The words feel like they're in a dream.

"I couldn't take it anymore. I carried it long enough, that's what Karen said. I'm so sorry, but I needed you to take her from me."

I open my eyes.

A hospital. I hurt everywhere. Gina is sitting in a chair, facing the window, talking to me but not looking at me. She has a little Band-Aid, something pink and silly, above one eyebrow.

"I haven't seen her since last night," she says. "Not that long, I guess."

My neck hurts. My throat is dry. I imagine a cup of water beside me, with a straw, and I turn to look for the table.

There are fingers on the side of the bed, pushing into the fabric, two hands.

The woman under the bed is dragging herself up. I see her black hair, then her dead eyes, and finally the mouth.

I start to scream.

Gina kicks her chair over standing. I try to look at her, only her.

She looks so much like her mother. She's wearing a white blouse and a knee-high black skirt. Her hair is tied in a high ponytail. She looks around the room, eyes probing.

"That's her favorite time," Gina says. Her voice is devoid of emotion. "Right when you wake up. That's the best time for her to lap at your fears."

"Gina! Help me!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy. Karen says it wasn't fair for you to do this to me. She should've been your responsibility. When I was little I was open to it. It's not my fault. But being closed, the way you are? That's a choice. And it's not fair to your little girl."

I see that she's crying, though her expression hasn't changed.

Out of my peripheral vision I can see the woman's hands, fingers fused together like a facsimile of a human appendage, still applying pressure to the bed. Like she's holding herself back, briefly containing depths of incomprehensible rage and malice.

Gina looks at me, wiping tears from her eyes, a wide, crazy smile growing on her face. A toothy smile. "You survived the first encounter, right? That's a positive!"

"Gina, no. You have to help me."

"Sorry, Daddy. It's time you helped yourself. You'll get used to her being around. I did."

Gina walks past my bed and out into the hallway. To follow her, to watch her, I have to look at the woman.

She's staring straight ahead, black hair for the moment covering her mouth and most of her face. She's still, lifeless.

I can't look away. I have to watch her in case she moves.

She will move.

Any moment now.

Any moment.