Page 85 of The Homemaker

“Uh …” I stared at Alice. “Are you related to Alice?”

“I’m her mother. Who is this?” Her tone hardened.

“Uh … I’m a friend. She’s … unwell.”

“What? Where is she? Oh god. Is she in the hospital?”

“N-no, ma’am. But she’s sort of lost it. And she’s saying Chris’s name and chanting, ‘Don’t drown.’ And I don’t know what to do. When I try to touch her, she starts yelling and kicking and screaming.”

“Let—” The woman’s voice shattered with a sob. “Let me talk to her.”

I held the phone to Alice’s ear. After a few seconds, she stopped chanting but continued to rock back and forth. Then she nodded and her voice shook in an “o-okay” as she shivered.

I pressed the phone back to my ear. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Text me your address. We’ll be there as soon as possible, but it’s going to be four or more hours. Can you take care of her?”

I didn’t know, but I nodded and said, “yes” anyway. Then I tossed the phone in the car, squinting against the rain. “Alice, your mom’s on her way. Okay?” I scooped an arm under her bent knees and wrapped my other arm around her back.

She shook, her sobs softening, and her fight dying. On the way home, she sat in the seat with her knees hugged to her chest, whispering, “Don’t die.”

I carried her into the house and wrapped her in a blanket on the sofa. Her eyes were blank. It was as if I wasn’t there; it was as if she wasn’t there.

For those four hours, I sat on the coffee table in front of her, waiting for the nightmare to end, but it didn’t.

She didn’t so much as flinch with the knock at the door. I opened it, and her mom rushed past me, red hair pulled into a messy bun, face streaked with tears.

A tall man in a hooded rain jacket offered a sad smile. “I’m Ryan, Alice’s dad. Thanks for calling us.”

“I’m Murphy,” I said with a nod as he stepped inside.

“We haven’t known where she’s been. We just knew she’d eventually come home. How did you two meet?” he asked, squinting with concern as Alice’s mom kneeled on the floor in front of the sofa to console Alice.

It took me a moment to register what he’d asked. I felt dazed and confused. “Uh … I own this place. She rented it from me. We were?—”

“Let’s go, baby,” Krista said, helping Alice to her feet.

When she looked at me, I thought for a second that it was all a bad dream, and she would be fine. Then her face contorted into an unrecognizable scowl.

“Don’t look at me,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “I’m not yours. Do you understand me?”

Her mom winced right along with me. “Sweetie, shh. You’re not well. He hasn’t done anything.”

“DON’T EVER TOUCH ME!” Alice screamed before her knees buckled, and she sobbed as her dad rushed to catch her. “I’m n-not h-his … he c-can’t have me …”

“Sweetie, he’s not trying to take you. He called us. He’s just trying to help,” Krista said, stroking Alice’s hair before her dad scooped her up in his arms.

I could barely fucking breathe, but I managed to clear my throat. “Uh, let me see if I can get her things gathered quickly.”

Her parents gave me appreciative nods, so I stepped into the hallway just outside of the bedroom. Leaning the back of my head against the wall, I closed my eyes burning with tears, and pinched the bridge of my nose.

What the hell is happening?

I sucked my lips together and choked on a sob. Then I quickly wiped my eyes and headed into the bedroom, grabbing everything of hers I could find, shoving it into her bag. I did the same thing in the bathroom.

“Thank you,” her mom said, taking the bags from me. “What do we owe you?”

Owe me?