Page 18

DECEMBER 25, 1993

Lizzie

I T WAS LATE ON C HRISTMAS NIGHT WHEN MY BEDROOM DOOR OPENED INWARD, AND Mark slipped into my room.

I smiled when he locked the door behind him because that meant he was going to fix me again.

I liked Mark a lot. He smelled nice and was super funny, and he always played with me when he came over, even when Caoimhe didn’t want me to hang out with them. She wanted to go smooching in the woods at the back of our house instead, where our parents couldn’t see them. They did it all the time, and Caoimhe even brought him over when our parents weren’t home.

They always made me promise not to tell. That was easy-peasy for me because I was good at keeping secrets.

After all, I kept lots of secrets for them.

Especially Mark’s secret superpower.

I never told anyone because Mark said that would make it stop working, and I didn’t want to get sick again. He said I would if he didn’t keep fixing me.

Mark and his daddy had come over to our house for dinner, and they were sleeping over because his daddy drank too much whiskey with my daddy.

“Are you ready for me, munchkin?” Mark whispered, moving to my bed.

“I’ve been waiting up for you,” I told him, proud of myself for staying up so late without getting caught. “Just like you said.”

“That’s my girl.” Grinning, he sat down on the edge of my bed. “Look what I got for Christmas.” He held up a shiny camera and said, “I’m going to take some pictures of you, munchkin. Special pictures just for me, okay?”

Nodding eagerly, I did everything he told me to.

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Mark told me when he finished taking my picture. “How are you feeling tonight, munchkin?”

“Great.”

He frowned and touched my forehead. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s getting worse.”

My eyes widened. “It is?”

He nodded sadly. “Do you know what happens if you don’t get better?”

“What?”

“Your hair will fall out like your mammy’s, and you’ll get sicker and sicker like her.”

“I will?” I gripped my head, feeling scared. “But I don’t want to lose my hair.”

“You might die.”

I started to cry.

“You mustn’t tell anyone you know the truth,” he whispered, stroking my cheek. “It would make it worse.”

“It would?”

“Oh yes, talking about it makes the sickness spread inside of your body.”

“Make it stop!”

“I can try if you want me to?”

“You said you could make it better,” I cried, gripping his arm. “Please fix me.”

“Okay, but you’re going to have to be a very good girl.” He sighed sadly. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a brave girl and do everything I tell you?”

“I can.” I nodded eagerly. “I swear.”

“And you can keep it a secret?”

“I promise, I won’t tell.”

“We might have to try something different tonight, munchkin.”

“Like what?”

He thought about it for a long time, tapping his chin before saying, “I could try the really special hug.”

“Yes.” I nodded eagerly. “Do it.”

“Are you sure?” He arched a brow. “It might feel strange.”

“Will it make me better?”

“Oh yeah,” he said coaxingly. “It’ll make you feel so much better, munchkin.”

I agreed. “Then do it.”

“Okay.” He sat on my bed and placed his hand on my leg. “I’m going to need you to take off your nightie for this, munchkin.” He smiled. “It’s how boys and girls do the special hug. We have to take all of our clothes off.”

I didn’t think twice about it. I didn’t want to get sick like Mammy. I wanted to be fixed, and Mark could fix me. He promised he could. Whipping off my nightie, I looked up at him and waited for him to tell me what to do next.

“You can watch,” he said, when he started taking off his clothes. “You like to look, don’t you, munchkin?”

My eyes widened in surprise when I saw the thing sticking up between his legs. “What’s that?”

“That’s what’s going to make you better, munchkin,” he said. “Do you want to touch it?”

I didn’t think so.

It looked strange.

And scary .

“That’s okay,” he chuckled, climbing onto my bed. “We can work up to that.”

“Work up to what?” I asked, lying down on my mattress for my special hug and opening my legs just how Mark liked me to.

“Never mind.” Pushing my legs apart farther, he knelt between them and sighed happily. “You’re such a good little girl, munchkin.”

“I am?”

“You are,” he confirmed, walking his fingers up my thigh.

“That tickles.”

“It does?” He smiled. “Do you like it when I tickle you?”

I shrugged, feeling scared.

“I know a secret tickle,” he whispered, moving his hand up higher. “Do you want me to show you?”