From the /c/nosleep community on Chambers

I just went to say something, a phrase I’d said so many times it was a reflex. “Did you smoke inside again?” It was late, probably sometime after two in the morning. The smoke had a strange, chemically smell to it, so I was sure he’d done it again. I looked into the mirror in my closet, preparing to scold his dumb ass. That was when I saw it. I wasn’t in my room. I was a grown woman. I didn’t live in a dorm anymore. I lived in an apartment that cost me a small fortune. I didn’t have a mirror in my closet. This wasn’t my bedroom. I blinked, trying to remember the night, but I didn’t have any luck. Had I gone out drinking? I opened the sliding closet doors and stepped out, looking around the room. I had no idea where I was, but I didn’t see anyone else in sight. A girl’s voice spoke up, though, a child’s gentle, sweet voice. “You’re so pretty.” I turned and saw a child sitting on the bed, watching me. She looked about four years old, but I didn’t know her. Red hair, freckles. She was a pretty little thing, and I couldn’t help but smile at her. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to think of where I was. “But do I know you?” She didn’t seem to notice that I had no memory of her. “You’re so pretty,” she said again. “You’re the prettiest mommy I ever saw.” I frowned, feeling a strange sense of disquiet. Mommy? I didn’t have a child. I had three older brothers, but I was an only child. I didn’t have kids. The little girl’s eyes locked with mine. “Why are you mad?” I blinked. “I’m not mad,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft. “I just have to go find my friends.” She looked down at the sheets, her eyes filling with tears. “Emma, I did what you said. I went to sleep.” I frowned. “What did I tell you?” “To go to sleep, and then we’d go get ice cream.” I sighed. I didn’t remember saying any of that, but the little girl looked so disappointed in me. “Let me check where your daddy is, okay?” I said, trying to placate her. She didn’t say anything, but she watched as I went around the room, searching for a way out. There were no doors, no windows. Just four walls, a bed, a closet, and a bathroom. I went into the bathroom, hoping to find some answers. Maybe someone was in there, someone who could help me figure out where I was. I opened the door and looked around, trying to remember how I got there. That was when I saw it. A note was taped to the mirror, in childish handwriting. DON’T TRY TO LEAVE. DON’T CALL THE POLICE. SHE’S NOT YOURS. SHE’S OUR DAUGHTER. I frowned at the note. Whose daughter? I remembered the little girl, her red hair and sad look. My heart melted, just thinking about her. I didn’t have a daughter, but I didn’t want to leave that little girl. Could I really just leave her here? I thought about it for a second, then opened the cabinet beneath the sink, searching for anything sharp. I ended up breaking the mirror with a metal nail file. My hands were shaking, but I managed to pick up the largest piece of glass I could find, holding it in my hand. I took a deep breath, trying to push down the feeling of unease in my stomach. But I didn’t want to leave her. She was counting on me. Could I really just leave her here? I turned and stepped out, thinking about what my next move was going to be. She was waiting for me. The little girl had changed clothes, and was now wearing a yellow sundress. Her hair was done up in pigtails, and she was grinning at me. “I’m ready to go,” she said. I blinked, wondering how she’d changed so fast, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Then let’s get some ice cream.” The girl started skipping, following me around the room. “Then we’ll go to the park,” she said happily. I didn’t point out that we couldn’t leave. I couldn’t bear to crush her spirits. We went to the bathroom, then the closet, playing pretend in each area. She seemed happy with me, and was babbling excitedly. I couldn’t help but smile back at her. She was a sweet girl. I was so tired, though. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. As the sun began to set, though, she calmed down. She lay down on the bed, holding a stuffed rabbit. The rabbit was blue, and wearing a little shirt. “Good night,” she said softly. “I’m gonna go to sleep too,” I replied, trying to think of a solution. It was probably around ten, and the room was getting cooler. I crawled into the bed, thinking. I was an adult. I had a mother, a father, and three older brothers. I had a job, and an apartment. I wasn’t in college anymore. I was an adult, and I needed to find a way out of here. I looked over at the little girl, who was now sleeping. She had no mother. She didn’t know it, but she didn’t have a mother. And now, she was all I had. I thought about the note, the one on the bathroom mirror. SHE’S NOT YOURS. SHE’S OUR DAUGHTER. I didn’t care if they said she was theirs. She was counting on me. I held up the piece of glass, wondering if I really had the guts to do it. I looked back at Emma, who was sleeping. I thought about what they had said. SHE’S NOT YOURS. SHE’S OUR DAUGHTER. But I didn’t care. Right now, she was all I had. I crawled out of the bed, the glass clutched in my hand. I was going to get us out. Emma was all I had, and I would do anything for her. And I was going to get us out, no matter what.

Emma

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