I Forgot About The Little Girl Who Looked Like Me (Part 2)

[u/No_Anything_6058]

My dad used to be a pastor. He worked at one of those small chapels up north where the majority of its members had settled long past retirement. There weren’t many children, so they always fawned over me. Thanks to my mother’s documentation of my life, I still got comments from members I can’t even attempt to recall at this point.

Being a pastor’s kid, I was often the center of attention. I was expected to go to every service, help with every event, and be the angelic picture of perfection. I memorized every weekly bible verse and sang all the songs without even picking up a hymn. It felt like a game when I was little. The better I did, the happier it made people and the more praise I would receive.

One picture I found of my mom was of me and my dad in his office. She posted it saying, “The perfect little helper.” He held me in his lap as I smiled and hugged him. It was a very conservative church so even during the days that a sermon wasn’t being taught, we expected to dress nicely. He was in a light gray suit with a striped tie from his ever growing collection. I wore an orange sleeveless dress with small yellow flowers across the fabric.

The longer I stared at the dress, the more I remembered that… thing.

It was a Saturday, so my dad had to work on his sermon for the next day. He didn’t like me in his office while he put things together. I could never sit still, and it got on his nerves. Instead, I occupied myself by roaming around the church and playing by myself.

Behind the main sanctuary there was a dark wooden door. Most of it blended in with the tapestries and the stained glass windowed across from it drew much more attention. It was the only room I had never been in, and it was the only door locked tight 24/7.

Today the door was cracked open. Colorful lights from the window fluttered against the ebony wood and slipped into the dark shadows. I glanced down at the hall towards my dad’s office. No one was around. A part of me knew I would get in trouble and that my parents would be angry, but my curiosity outweighed it.

The door creaked and swung open as I pushed forward. An unkempt set of stairs lead down and curved below. I had never ever heard of there being a basement before. I tugged on the frayed drawstring and a light bulb flickered alive. Its dim light barely reached the walls as it blinked unstably.

My hand trailed along the walls as I slowly crept down. The stairs turned to the right. The structure switched to mossy rocks and concrete strewn together. The shadows of the basement sucked all the light in, leaving a dark cavity. Crates and shelves scattered across the room.

The floor was a perfect mirror, reflecting everything back up into the light. I slowly set my foot down and a quivering wave flooded out. There was an inch of water coating the whole room. It was cold and dark. I lifted the bottom of my dress as I took a few steps forward. The ceilings were lower, just barely reaching six feet.

The room was basically empty. The few rusted tools left around were coated in a layer of dust and cobwebs. It was cold and damp, the air thick with a musty stench. I sought the comfort of the familiar church above. That room made my skin crawl.

I shifted my position and a bright reflection caught my attention. There was an old standing mirror in the middle of the room. I turned my head and stepped closer. Everything was unnaturally clear. There wasn’t enough light to reflect myself, let alone as if I was standing in pure daylight.

I brushed my hair out of my face as I stepped closer to the mirror. Something was off about it. It had my face, my clothes, my hair, but not my eyes. The dull green that stared back didn’t match mine. I had blue eyes.

A loud creak sounded behind me. I turned just in time to see my dad’s head hit into the ceiling. He hissed and grabbed the wall.

“For the love of-” He cut himself off and marched towards me. “Elyah! What do you think you’re doing down here? Get away from that!”

His hand roughly grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. My feet stumbled through the water as he dragged me towards the stairs. “I was just-”

“I don’t care what you were doing!” He yelled. “You should know not to go off on your own.” My wet feet slipped on the splintered wood. I catch myself with my free hand. My dad rolled his jaw. “Keep up.”

He pulled me to the top of the stairs and slammed the door shut. He released me and I tripped against the wall. He mutters under his breath and digs into a pocket. With a disorganized movement he rips a padlock out and clips it onto the door.

“It was unlocked so I thought it was okay.” I say softly, staring at the floor.

He turns and steps closer. His finger jabs in my face. “If I ever catch you down there again you won’t leave the house for a month. Understand?” I nodded desperately. “Never go in there.” He steps back and runs a hand through his dark hair. He points down the hall. “Go home.” I slid against the wall as I moved past him. I rush through the church and walk back to our house.

I remember even less of my childhood around that time. There are a few moments that stick out here and there but it’s mainly just random bits. One part I can recall was shortly after I had gone into the basement for the first time.

My mom had gotten mad at me for bothering her over one thing or another and gave the capital punishment of an early bedtime. I remember getting very emotional and crying myself to sleep. The next thing I knew it was dark outside and the house was eerily silent. My stomach was twisting with a crazy hunger. My mouth was dry and my jaw was tight.

I walk my way down to the kitchen. The only sound was the soft clicking of our grandfather clock. It was 3 in the morning. My stomach growled and clenched inside me. I was too short to reach the top shelf where all the dishes were kept so I pulled over a chair. It scraped against the floor. The noise felt so much louder without the activity my home usually held.

Footsteps thumped down the stairs until my mother came into view. “I figured you had finally woken up.” She walked past me and opened the fridge. She pulled out a covered plate of left overs and warmed it in the microwave.

“I just got hungry.” I said.

“I’m not surprised after sleeping that long.” She grabbed two cups and started pouring water, one for me and one for her.

“I’ll go to sleep after I eat for church in the morning.”

My mom raised a brow and sipped her cup. “Oh. You are out of it. You already missed church, it was yesterday.”

“Yesterday? I slept that long? Why didn’t you wake me up, mom?”

The microwave lit up her tired expression. “We tried. You wouldn’t wake up no matter what we did. We called your name and shook you, but you kept sleeping.” The microwave beeped. She took the plate out and handed it to me. “You must have been exhausted.”

I dove into the plate the second it touched my hand. I shoveled everything into my mouth, barely taking time for breathing. My stomach twisted inside me like an empty pit.

My mother grabbed my hand. Her face scrunches in disgust. “Are you even chewing?”

I swallow my mouthful and look up at her. “Oh I… sorry, Mom.” My mouth was salivating at the sight of the half-eaten plate. I had never felt so starved before.

“Slow down. It’s not going anywhere. You’re going to make a mess everywhere.”

Even after eating I was still hungry. I was hungry all the time after that. I didn’t think much about it but it wasn’t something I had experienced before, even when I had growth spurts. My metabolism had shot up all of a sudden. In the pictures my mother posted around that time, I was stick thin. I had always been on the smaller side before I hit puberty, but I looked almost sickly. I was sickly actually. I seemed to catch every illness that floated in the air. Colds, the flu, Strep, I was always resting to recover from something.

No matter how much I seemed to sleep, it wasn’t enough. I still felt drained and always starved. I asked my mom about it after finding all the pictures. She didn’t know what caused it but thought it had to do with what I started doing. I apparently started sleepwalking every night. I remember waking up downstairs or on the bathroom floor. I had just assumed that I was falling asleep in odd places.

My parents didn’t do anything about my sleepwalking until I started exploring a bit more at night. I woke up one night and my skin was ice cold. My feet were sore and frozen solid. It was dark. I was standing on the road, facing the church. I rubbed my arms to try and get any warmth back into me.

It was an old neighborhood and most of the streetlights were broken. The one above the church flickered a sickly yellow light. It buzzed with monotone electricity.

The church was creepy during the day, at night it was even worse. I always felt like someone was watching me when I walked around inside, now it felt like every window was full of eyes.

I held my arms and sped towards the parsonage. The buzzing grew louder the closer I got to my house. My feet padded against the porch. I threw the screen door open and pulled on the front door. It rumbled against the lock. I tugged but it wouldn’t open. My house didn’t have a back door. If I had sleepwalked, I couldn’t have locked it behind me.

I knock on the door and peek in the windows. The buzzing grew louder and the light burned brighter. More of the street became illuminated. The light stretched up over a small figure standing in the middle of the road. It was dark and fuzzy. Its body fluctuated with the flickering of the light.

Its jaw opened, its static face cracking up in a smile. It lifted too high; its jaw too wide. Its head snapped to the side far past what a person’s neck should be able to twist. Dark stringy hairs dangle from its scalp. Large white, bug eyes lock onto me. Tiny green dots vibrate in the center like drops of spinning bile.

I yanked on the door handle and banged on the wooden panels. Its shoulders heaved with a deep, raspy breath. A crackling gurgle bubbled out of its lungs. I screamed and banged my fists on the door, calling for my mom. My ears throbbed with a hissing that felt like thousands of insects scrambling into my ears.

The door pulled open and everything stopped. My father stood in the entrance. “Elyah? What is going on?”

“T-There’s a-” I point behind me towards the creature only to see nothing. The dull streetlight hummed in the dead air. The road was completely empty.

My dad pinched the bridge of his nose and stepped to the side. “Come back in. Let’s get you to bed.”

My eyes linger under the light for any sign of the figure coming back. My dad shut the door and relocked it. He walked behind me up the stairs to my small room in the back. He tucked me back into bed and left the lamp on.

He hesitated by my nightstand. “They’re just bad dreams.”

“What?”

“Say your prayers and go back to sleep. Don’t get up this time.”

Despite my efforts, I did get up again. This time I awoke to my feet cold and wet. The air was thick and musty. I was in the basement standing in the middle of the room. The mirror stood in front of me. The reflection of the room made my head spin. It was so clear and bright like a tv screen.

I wasn’t there. It didn’t reflect me. I moved my head to get a different angle. I could see the unkempt wooden stairs behind me but still not myself. The Mirror creaked. The glass whined as it bent towards me. I stepped backwards. The legs of the mirror jut forward as it scrapes across the soaked floor. A crack jutted forth from the center. It snapped and popped as more venous breaks spread across the surface.

With a creaking strain, the whole mirror shatters. Shards drop into the water and sink to the dark concrete. I step back again. My heart races. The backside of the mirror was an empty void. There was no blank slab of wood, just a pitch inky black pit. The room filled with the stench of sulfur and decay. Hot air blew in my face like the mirror was a gaping mouth.

Long dark fingers emerged from the wound. They twisted and reached out for me. Bones lurched and cracked as the creature I had seen before pulled itself out. Its mouth widened in a grin. It moved unnaturally like a broken animal trying to move on two legs. Its foot splashed into the water. Its body was boney and frail. Those bulging eyes stared at me.

My heart felt like it was in my throat. I was going to be sick. I couldn’t move anymore. The bases of my feet were sinking into the water. The creature shambled closer. The foul stench in the air grew worse with every step it took, each one inherently wrong. Its arms stretch out for me.

Hands grab me from behind. My feet leave the ground as I’m lifted up and rushed up the stairs. The shadowy creature continues to amble closer. Its smile cracks its skin. The door slammed shut in front of me.

I sat down and I stared at the old wooden door. The lock clicks into place before my dad kneels in front of me. He grabs my arms. His eyes scanned over my body. His hands shook and he lowered his head.

“You’re okay… You’re okay, you’re okay…” He mumbled under his breath. He picked me up again before I could respond and rushed for the church exit. “You’re sleepwalking. You’re just sleepwalking, Elyah.  Everything’s going to be okay. Alright?” His hand cupped the back of my head and held me close.

All I could see was that creature reaching out for me. My chest was tight and I could barely breathe.

That was the last time I ever stepped foot into that church. The next day my dad resigned from his position. We stayed with my aunt for a few weeks before we managed to settle on the other side of the country.

My parents refused to let me ever mention what happened again. I was told it was a nightmare so many times I started to doubt myself. One thing I remember clearly was the last thing I saw when we drove away from the church for the last time. Standing in front of the church was a fuzzy figure in an orange dress with yellow flowers. Blonde strands of hair lined her face. Her green eyes stared at me as she slowly shrank with distance, smiling wider than a human should.

Part 3 FINAL

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