Archive of Our Own

Isabella woke to the normal clatter that starts her day: The sound of mom calling the girls ‘for the third time’ to get up, dad walking back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom in an endless course of forgetting an item in each room, and her sister’s voice crawling through her door, ‘You awake?’

“Yeah,” Isabella replied, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes and stretching her limbs, “what did mom make for breakfast?”

Gianna took her sister’s reply as a substitute for an unspoken invitation. With an energy that Isabella only wished she could muster that early after opening her eyes, Gianna slipped the curtains open and flipped the blinds while she pulled the comforter back and assaulted Isabella with a sudden, stark cold. They both looked at each other a moment, before a mirrored smile settled on their features.

“It’s chilly!” Her twin squealed, skipping over to the closet to pick out clothes for her sister’s day. This was typical; The girls liked to match and have, ever since they could remember.

“It’s perfect.” Isabella sighed, tapping her cheeks to wake herself up further. In the corner of her vision, she saw Gianna pull out a beige sweater that mimicked the beret on her own head.

“Mom made cinnamon swirl-pumpkin waffles. I already got your plate ready. You’ll love it.” She beamed, winking at her sister’s still-resting frame. Isabella wondered, idly, what creative touch her sister added to breakfast. Gianna had always been that way: Artistic and inspired. Isabella couldn’t paint to save her life but she excelled academically, where her sister showed signs of struggle past middle-school.

“Come on! Get up!” She barked, tossing the sweater towards Isabella’s head, shielding her eyes from the sunlight as her curtains were flung open. The sound of drawers clattered and clunked; Gianna was finding pants to go with the sweater.

“Oh my gosh, what’s got you so excited?” Isabella groaned but submitted to her sister’s demands. She stepped out of bed and began brushing her long, black hair with the hairbrush kept at her bedside.

“Well first, waffles, obvi. Second–You, me, and Maddy are gonna’ decide today what our costumes will be for the party on Halloween, remember?” Gianna twinkled, her voice growing high and strained with excitement at the end.

“Oh, right! Okay, okay…” Isabella trailed off in thought, tugging on the light-red denim jeans pulled out for her. Maddy was Gianna and Isabella’s childhood friend. Every year on Halloween, her family threw a big party and invited nearly everyone from her grade. The house would be transformed into a half-function, half-haunted house for the guests to be entertained for the evening. Gianna always prized herself on having the best costume every year and she was meticulous about everything, down to the finest detail, be it gemstone or eyelash.

“Girls! Your food will get cold!”, their mother shouted from the living room, her low-heels thundering near the stairwell. Gianna, satisfied with her sister up-and-ready for the day, trotted off to the kitchen, taking with her any warmth from the room. Isabella shivered and quickly put on the beige sweater, tying up her hair to keep it out of her face. Her dad passed by in the doorway, seeming to finally have gathered everything he needed for his workday, and Isabella scooted out of her room to follow him, helping him carry his many, scattered items.

The breakfast table was set with a decorative orange cloth and darling placemats with charming, little ghosts printed onto them. Steaming, fluffy waffles were served onto three plates while the fourth bundle was packed into a to-go container. For their father, of course, who worked all hours of the day. Gianna smirked, playfully, at her sister coming to the table and folded her hands together.

“Isn’t it cute?” she asked, and Isabella looked at her waffles, sprinkled with powdered sugar in the form of a bat, outlined in maple syrup with chocolate chips for eyes.

“Adorable.” Isabella smiled.

The girls both sat and began eating their breakfast as their mother joined them with her cup of coffee, smelling faintly of apple and cinnamon. All three of the women watched as the girls’ father scrambled his bags together and snatched the container of breakfast, hurriedly planting a quick kiss on each of their cheeks.

“I should be home early tonight, if you girls want to help me decorate outside.” He said, slightly out of breath, checking his watch.

“The girls have a test today and they’ll be with Maddy after school. I’ll help you, honey. We’ll make it a date.” Their mom chimed in, giggling lightly at his comedic morning display. Gianna and Isabella stifled their tittering at their father’s boyish blush and smile, wishing them all a good day as he left for work.

“Now, if you girls still want to help, I’ll leave the lights for you to put up?” She cut into her waffles and allowed the butter to melt down between the layers, creating a glossy shine over the pillowy fluff of the pastry.

It was nearing 8:30 and their first period would start soon, so the girls hurried to gather their things and slip on their shoes. As Isabella raced off to brush her teeth in the downstairs bathroom, Gianna helped her mother collect their dirty dishes.

“Yeah, we’ll only be talking about what we’ll wear today, so we’ll be home…”, she trailed off, thinking.

“Be home at least for dinner.” Her mother said, and gave both of her daughters–Isabella now returned–a kiss on their cheeks, sending them off. As the girls walked to their nearby school, both of them shared a wet napkin to wipe off the lipstick their mother always seems to forget she’s wearing, and discussed the test they’d be having today. As promised, Isabella would write a little cheat-sheet for her sister to use during the exam. They both giggled at their scheme and eagerly sped off to meet Maddy, standing and waving at the corner.

“A little to the left!”, her father ordered, eyes squinting and lips pursing to get the perfect angle for the lights on the porch. Isabella yawned and hung the lights on the hook that had been screwed and sealed into the ceiling of the overhang years ago. She had no idea why her father insisted on ‘a little to the lefts, more to the rights.’ She figured it was just a dad thing. As she came down the ladder, her mother wrapped her in a sherpa blanket and rubbed her back.

“Perfect.” He nodded, satisfied, hands on his hips. The front lawn was illuminated by a soft, orange glow from the hanging string lights, twinkling and swaying. A small skeleton man stood on the front porch, waiting to greet and shriek at any visitors. His eyes were a misty blue light, flashing whenever he talked. Gianna waved her hand in front of him numerous times to rile him up.

“That’s enough now, all of you. It’s late. Time for bed.” And that was final when it was ordained by their mother. The girls and their father surveyed their work happily as they followed each other inside, embraced by the warmth of the heater. Isabella couldn't wait to crash down into her bed; She was so exhausted that even brushing her teeth seemed like a herculean feat. Tossing her dirty clothes into the laundry bin, she changed into her pajamas and decided that tomorrow morning she would just brush a little longer than usual to make up for it. Isabella clambered into bed, wrapping herself in her big, green comforter and soft, blue sheets. Closing her eyes, she was fast asleep before she could form another thought.

Isabella’s eyes opened to meet the darkness of her room, clouded in fatigue and a half-sense that she might still be dreaming. She reached over to the nightstand and clicked the button on her phone to read a blurry ‘2:32’.

‘I’m so tired, still.’ She thought to herself as she yawned and stretched, pulling her warm blanket up closer to her chest, curling into a ball to protect against the chilly, autumn night. Her eyes blinked a few more times, creeping slowly back towards a deep sleep, before she heard what must have shaken her from her rest.

‘What is…?’ Isabella laid still on her mattress, her arms and legs drawn in tight and her breathing low, so she could listen closely. It sounded hard and hollow. Had something fallen out in the hallway against the floor? Her mind swam with recalled images and angles of the space outside of her door: Veridian walls lined with family portraits, end tables pressed up against them to carry more pictures or vases of dead flowers her mother hadn’t thrown out quite yet, hickory floors, the bedroom doors, the bathroom doors, and the stairs with their orange-and-black tinsel lining on the railings.

She thought it might’ve been her father, then, knocking over a shoe while walking to the kitchen at night. Isabella giggled to herself; Of course at her big age she’d let her sweet-toothed father scare her in the early hours all because he craved a pumpkin-shaped Reese’s while her mother was deep into her sleep.

‘Sounds good, actually.’ The phantom taste of peanut and chocolate nearly coaxed her out of her sheets, had it not been so cold. Isabella gathered herself up in her duvet again, promising herself that in the morning, she’d snag one before school, and fluffed her pillow under her head. She thought about what her costume would be and how she’d make it work for the party. She still needed to get the right amount of make-up, but maybe she could steal her mothe–

“...” Isabella hadn’t really realized she’d been smiling until she felt it disappear from her face. Her chest clenched in fear. Her eyes peeked from the stock-still frame of her body out of the cave-entrance of her comforter but all she could see was a sheer-stain blackness of the room. She didn’t want to move to grab the phone. She didn’t want to make any noise. Whatever sound that was in the hallway wasn’t shoes or an object hitting the floor. It sounded like a door. Opening, closing. But who’s door?

Her heart lightened a bit as the fear subsided; She had to be rational. Scary movies and the atmosphere of the holiday didn’t mean ghosts fancied their ways into homes at random. It could still be a family member. They could be checking a lock on the door, or testing the hinges, or making the mistake of walking into a room when they meant another.

‘Don’t be stupid, Bella. Just go to sleep.’ She thought, not really believing herself, reaching for her phone again to read the time. Before she placed it back on her nightstand she switched it to ‘silent’ and closed her eyes. Her heart began to relax as she counted sheep, counted pumpkins, counted anything to trick her mind into resting once more. As her thoughts slipped further and further from rational, cascading slowly into a dream-like state again, just barely in the background of her mind, she could still hear it.

The dinner table was lined with seasonal treats and dishes reflective of the upcoming holiday celebration; Isabella’s mother loved to observe traditions in more ways than just the home decor. A roast pork with clove and spices sat in the center of the table, lined with carrots and cucumbers punched out in tiny, smiling skulls or wicked pumpkins. There was a pear salad with a cranberry-maple dressing which Isabella was eager to ignore. An apple pie sat, reserved, on the kitchen counter, ready to be sliced once the family’s meal was complete. The aroma of the dining room was spectacular; The family, busy in conversation with one another, ate merrily while Isabella stayed deep in thought.

‘That really was weird…’, she pondered, thinking back to the noise she heard a few nights ago. For the past few days, she’d be dwelling on the strange incident and dissecting it, bit by bit. For starters, where it came from. Last night, she’d realized the noise came from the end of the hallway, further than even Gianna’s room.

Her fork pressed the meat of the pork on her plate, the juices spilling out onto the porcelain, but her eyes were focused on the extra chairs in the dining room. On Christmas or Thanksgiving, it was Nonna or Nana, or a select few cousins, that occupied them and shared the festivities. Isabella felt a strange coldness. Was there someone else that used them? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it; The idea that something was missing. Her mind fell back to the door and, without thinking, she interjected between her family’s rambling about the upcoming days, business, and school work.

“Did the house always look like this?” Isabella blurted out, her eyes finally unlatching from their gaze at the chair to look at her parents. They all paused, taken aback by the sudden question.

“What do you mean, honey?” Her mother asked, taking another tiny bite of the roast. Her salad earned a few pokes from her fork but had yet to be consumed.

“I dunno’, I think there’s a few things different.” Gianna smirked, eyeing the Halloween decorations around them. The girls’ father guffawed as he shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate, also foregoing the salad. Isabella shot her sister a peeved stare, earning a snicker from her twin.

“No–Obviously–I mean–...Um, like…upstairs? Did it ever look different?” Isabella questioned, slowly, her cheeks burning at the absurdity of her inquiry. Even to herself, she thought she sounded like an idiot. There was a quiet pause while her parents were in thought, mostly about why the questions had been asked rather than the answer, before Gianna took the lead again.

“You already know that: The flooring was changed, like, three years ago.” She said, playing with a skull-shaped cucumber.

“No, no–That’s not–”

“Yes, that’s it! We got that real pretty birch wood, didn’t we?” Their father spoke, eyes lighting up as if a light bulb had been screwed just perfectly into place.

“Yes, we did! It took forever to find the right color to match that wallpaper–” Their mother joined in, slightly pushing her salad away from her plate.

“I still think the darker oak would have been nice–”

“No!” Isabella jumped, heat rising from her chest at her anxiety of the situation, trying not to eyeball the extra chairs in the room, “That’s not what I’m talking about–”

“Well, there’s no need to be so upset, honey–” Mother stated, annoyed at the intrusion and disobedience displayed by her daughter. Their father and Gianna sat silently, not quite knowing what to do or say about Isabella’s out-of-character outburst. She felt the spotlight fall on her as she once again thought back to the noise she’d heard that night, mustering up the courage again to speak.

“I’m sorry–I just, I wanted to know–Did we ever have another room up there?” She asked, as she relaxed into her chair again.

Silence fell over the dining room but not like before. Gianna looked to her dad, who looked to his wife, who didn’t look anywhere but straight at Isabella. Her face didn’t move, not even a twitch. Something cold and uneasy stirred in Isabella’s gut. Finally, her mom set her fork down and sighed.

“No, Izzie. We don’t have any guest rooms.” Mother said, finally, and raised her eyebrows to signify that was the end of the conversation and she’d tolerate no more. She turned back to her husband–’Now, like I was saying before’–and the previous ramble once again began. Gianna snuck onto her phone while her parents were distracted in their vigorous conversation, smiling at her friends’ messages that came to her in a similar manner, for all their families also didn’t put up with technology during dinner.

Isabella sat, alone in the congested room, and the empty chairs drew more attention to her than the one’s currently in use. She thought that she could have sworn one time, long ago, there used to be one empty chair instead of two. Her stomach felt twisted. It wasn’t often when her parents answered a question of hers that she was left with more uncertainty than before.

Isabella set her fork down and took a swig of her apple cider before excusing herself from the table, no longer hungry. Where usually her parents would stop her and explain in detail the inappropriateness of leaving dinner early, it seemed, this time, the proper thing to do, as she left the room with no calls asking for her return.

Gianna liked going out more than Isabella ever did. Her weekends were filled with small parties, sleepovers, and movie nights with boyfriends that lasted until the early mornings. That weekend, she planned to bring bits of her costume over to her friend’s house in order to stitch it up, make it pretty, and most importantly, party and watch scary movies with her besties. Isabella wasn’t against it, ever. She liked to see her sister grow and have fun. She also loved the small breaks from the neverending energy her twin possessed. Although she loved her so very much, Isabella was more quiet and reserved compared to Gianna. As she said goodbye to her sister for the night and wished her luck on her sewing, Isabella relished in the idea of a solitary evening and the plans she had for it.

For the past few weeks, the noise came and went in small intervals. Upstairs, where everyone’s bed was placed, Isabella’s sat directly across from her sister’s. If she was correct in assuming, the noise during the night came from the empty space beside Gianna’s at the end of the hall. Over breakfast, she decided later that night while her sister was gone that she would sleep in Gianna’s room to listen closely and hear what might be happening.

Night fell and with it, the house grew quiet. Isabella’s parents had long receded into their room to sleep and the girl spent most of her afternoon biding time by studying and reading. Her conversations over text with Gianna grew more and more stagnant the longer her sister spent at her friend’s until finally, she ceased replying altogether.

‘Must be sleeping. Or watching a movie.’, Isabella thought, turning her phone off with a click.

She closed the notebook of fractions and slid her textbook back into her bookbag on the floor. Grabbing her small flashlight and opening the door, slowly, she peered out into the hallway. It was quiet–not a footstep, not a tap. Nothing else but her own steady breathing: in, and out, and in, and out.

It was only a few paces to her twin’s room, her door slightly open and the sweet scent of her perfume seeping out to comfort Isabella in the cold darkness. The words ‘No boys allowed’ were tacked onto a plank that hung from her door; It was placed there years ago and had never been removed. Isabella chuckled, wondering what silly thing their father must have done to make Gianna keep it, even now. She closed the door behind her gently, holding the knob so the latch wouldn’t catch and wake her parents. Standing in the room, and looking over to the bed where Gianna slept every night, Isabella noticed it was placed westward in the room; The side of the bed up against the wall. She paused.

‘And she didn’t… hear anything?’ Isabella wondered, turning the flashlight off and setting it onto the nightstand. She had asked Gianna a couple days ago about a noise during the night, but her sister only looked confused and assumed Isabella must have been talking about raccoons, squirrels, or the odd late-night jogger. Isabella never brought it up again to her.

She pulled the comforter and sheets back, revealing her sister’s petal-pink bedding which she quickly slipped into and snuggled herself for warmth. The nights had grown only colder as the month went on. Her head rubbed against the pillow, cushioning and pushing for the best angle to sleep, and she got to waiting. The analog clock beside Isabella ticked softly, its big hand positioned at eleven and the small hand lost to the darkness of the room. She yawned and closed her eyes.

‘I’ll just sleep a little so I can be awake for when it happens.’

At the sound of a latch scratching to a close, Isabella’s eyes snapped open and she stared at the clock in front of her, the big hand landed firmly onto ‘two’. Her arms were coiled around the pillow that was once under her head, the comforter kicked partially off. She laid there for a moment, her heart hammering in wait. She had heard it. Again. At least, she was sure she did. How long has it been going on? Was it over? Did she miss it? Half-asleep and fighting grogginess, Isabella lifted her head from the pillow and lightly tapped her cheeks to wake herself faster.

‘Man, I should’ve made coffee– Crap.’ She thought, looking around for her flashlight that had since disappeared from the nightstand. She couldn’t see a thing and when she felt around the bed and slipped her fingers against the cold, wooden flooring, she was still unlucky in producing it. She sat back up in bed, on her knees, sighing and waiting out the light-headedness from moving all-too-quickly after waking up so abruptly.

‘THUNK’, came the sound again. The walls next to her shuddered and bent with the force of the slam. Petrified, she slipped closer to the wall, her jaw twitching near to the dusty pink paint, until her ear pressed firmly against it, listening in.

It was quiet as it usually was after the door closed. The whole house hung in a cold stillness as Isabella waited, eyes beginning to adjust to the dark. She stopped wandering her gaze and stared blankly at the ceiling when she began to hear noise from beside her. A rustling, a shaking. Something skirting across the ground, stopping, and scraping the floor. Plshhht–Plshhht–Plshhht. It grew faint and then loud again, as if somehow the small space beside the bedroom could be meters and meters wide.

Isabella shook silently, unsure of what she should do. She hadn’t quite thought through what steps to take next in her discovery. A childish instinct to run to her parents room flashed across her mind but she whimpered at the idea of having to step foot out of the solace of Gianna’s bed. Her hand pulled the comforter up over her body again.

‘THUNK–THUNK–THUNK’, the sound of the latch slamming was louder than she had realized, or was that just right there and then? Her heart clenched in fear; Did whatever was in the room notice her eavesdropping? The crash of the door against its frame sounded angry, visceral, and resentful. A great feeling of hatred came over her, not from within but from around. A force pushing down onto her chest. She covered her ears against the skittering and twitching from the other side of the wall, her hands shaking against her jaw. If only it would stop.

‘Please, please–Stop this already! I’ve had enough!’ She trembled to herself, her lips tight yet her mind screaming. Isabella feared that the entire wall would come down with its terrible shaking and bending from the volatile force that seemed unable to calm itself in the walls. It rattled and pounded, then stopped abruptly against the wall of the hallway.

With a slow, steady creaking, a door swung open somewhere. Isabella covered her mouth, realizing she’d been gasping and panting, not wanting whatever was there to hear her. Her eyes, sharp and dilated with terror, stayed unblinking in the darkness, unfocused as all her energy was used to listen closely to the noise outside of the room in case she felt she needed to hide.

‘Tap–Tap–Tap–’, A gentle, testing knocking came from the walls, and Isabella shuddered, tears dabbling at the corners of her eye. It was across the room from her; Her own bedroom. What was that tapping? Was it knocking on the walls? She swallowed hard against any more terrifying conclusions. She just wanted to go to bed, now. She just wanted it to go away.

Minutes passed by without another noise and Isabella began to stop trembling. Her eyes adjusted to see the shadows and corners of the room but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were no more tappings, no more noise.

‘Maybe it really was a raccoon…or a rat. Maybe it was stuck in the wall?’, she tried to tell herself to keep down her sobs from fear. Turning over in bed, she slowly and quietly got comfortable again when her arm hit something cold in bed. She nearly screamed, her heart jolting into her throat, as her hand scrambled to feel what it was. Her flashlight that had gone missing from the nightstand was tucked under the blanket, under the sheets.

Gianna returned home on Tuesday with a burst of energy that Isabella only wished she could manage in the mornings. Her costume was finished and stitched to fit her with a few embellishments to match her current aesthetics and charm.

“All we need now is the makeup to go with it.” She beamed, laying her costume out onto the dining room table. It was as if a great, black stain was spilt across the mahogany. Isabella looked sheepishly at her sister.

“I…I actually haven’t finished mine yet.” She averted her eyes, already feeling the growing explosion from her twin.

“What?!” Gianna hollered, taking a step back. “What do you mean?! Halloween is tomorrow–The party is tomorrow! What have you been doing this whole month?” She huffed, her hands firmly planting onto her hips, eyeing Isabella suspiciously. What could she say? Telling her twin that her entire October was spent chasing and thinking about this noise, which Gianna already didn’t hear, that came and tapped and knocked and rattled throughout the night sounded insane. Her cheeks burned red at the idea.

“I…I…” Isabella started, Gianna’s glare only growing sharper.

“Girls?” By a stroke of luck, the girls’ mother appeared from around the corner. With her, she had her purse in her hand, opened. “Have you seen my makeup bag? Your father is taking me out tonight and I need my lipstick.”

The girls glanced at each other in silent questioning.

“Not with us.”

“Have you checked your car? The bathroom? Dad’s car? Maybe at work?”

Their mother sighed, setting her purse down.

“Yes, I checked everywhere. Oh, be my good dolls and run up to the store at the corner to buy me a new one. Here. Take this and get something for yourselves too.” Their mother produced a $50 bill from her wallet; Isabella and Gianna’s eyes practically lit up with their shared excitement. They needed makeup for their party looks anyway; $50 was more than enough for three women to be lavish in their cosmetic choices. As they took the money, their mother kissed them both and went off to work on her hair.

“We can work on the costume tonight–Together.” Gianna smiled at her sister, her whole demeanor changed and much more delightful and positive. Money and treats had that effect on her. Isabella didn’t complain. She wouldn’t have to explain about her strange, new paranormal obsession that plagued her.

“Alright.” She smiled, going to grab her purse. The girls slipped on their shoes and skipped out of the house, their mother watching them fondly from the upstairs window.

What was supposed to be a short trip ended up extensive and meticulous. The girls carefully curated their shades of eyeshadow and lipstick to match their costumes: Gianna with her rich reds and lacquer blacks and Isabella with her muted nudes, gloss, and sparkles. In between their horde of shiny, new mascaras and liners was their mother’s deep purple lipstick, nestled safely.

They returned home as the sun was beginning its descent, cascading an orange blanket across the neighborhood, making the pumpkins almost indistinguishable on the front porch. Their bags of goodies were plopped onto the couch as they removed their jackets and Gianna took it upon herself to hand off the lipstick to their mother upstairs.

“When I’m done, we can finish your costume in my room while we watch a movie!” She beamed, her footsteps pattering their way upstairs while Isabella stayed in the living room, sorting their cosmetics into two piles. ‘This is great’, she thought to herself. In the quiet of the room, she looked around and felt a heavy sadness wash over her. While she had spent this past month fretting and worrying over the noise during the night, she hadn’t even noticed the many decorations her sister and parents continued to put up. Fake spider-silk flowed from the mantle with tiny, glittering, black, green, and purple spiders adorning it. A tower of foam pumpkins and foam skulls sat on either side of the fireplace. The couch was fitted with big, comfy orange and black pillows that read the words, Trick and Treat, in a fun, twisted design; A huge, plush, beige blanket hung over the back of the furniture, big enough for at least three people.

The home and its little nooks and crannies were a wonderland of ghoulish delights, with some personal touches, like an ornament here or a paper-skeleton there of some grade-school project the girls did when they were young, forever immortalized in the Halloween bins kept in the attic. Isabella hugged the Trick pillow to her chest, feeling her eyes well-up, and her heart clench. She should have been more present; She wouldn’t always live in this house and it was important to her that any time spent in it was with her mother, father, and sister. At least, while it lasted.

“Okay! Where’s the stuff?” Gianna came tapping down the staircase, her hands brushing past the railing tinsel. Isabella used one bag to put Gianna’s makeup in and placed hers in the other, following her sister through the house to the dining room.

“I think my costume is still in my closet. I hung it up after de-wrinkling it…but…”

“But you haven’t touched it since, huh?” Her twin teased, picking up a handful of candy from the ghost-shaped candy jar in the kitchen. “You’re so lucky that I’m amazing at sewing, I’ll have your costume done before the movie even en–”

Isabella stopped and stared at her sister in the dining room doorway. Gianna had gone completely still, her head twitching left and right. Isabella waited for a moment before deciding something was clearly wrong.

“G-...Gigi? What’s–”

“Where’s my costume?” Gianna stepped into the dining room and dropped her candy to the floor, looking around the room and below the table. “What the hell–I just had it here.”

Isabella stood, stunned, in the doorway. Just as she said, Gianna’s costume was nowhere to be seen.

“Maybe mom took it?”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me? I was just in there with her.”

“I don’t know–”

Gianna sprinted back upstairs from the dining room with Isabella closely following behind her. The door to their parents’ room swung open as they both huffed in the doorway, Isabella stopping just short of her sister’s shadow. Their mother turned around in her vanity chair, a perplexed look on her face as she finished curling her lashes in the mirror. Before she could ask why her daughter seemed so disheveled, Gianna blurted out the same question as before.

“Costume? …I haven’t seen it, honey. Are you sure it’s not in your room?” Her mother inquired, turning back to the mirror to apply her blush, smiling.

Gianna silently turned from the doorway and her shoulder brushed against Isabella’s as she made her way to her room. Isabella, fear growing in her chest at her sister’s apparent, rising anger, knew how strange it all was; Nobody could have moved the fabric. Their mother wasn’t one to touch things without making it known, even from a phone call, and their father hadn’t been home. Herself and Gianna were out all afternoon shopping so, it left just the decor and the air in the house as suspect. Isabella shivered at the thought of the sounds in the hallway as she blindly followed her sister to her room.

Gianna stood in front of her closet, torn through with clothing scattered around the floor and bed, sighing. She crossed her arms.

“Were you pissed that I finished and you didn’t?” She asked, her eyes piercing through her bangs to stare at Isabella, accusingly. A beat of silence passed between them as Isabella realized what was happening.

“...What?”

“You heard me–” Gianna stepped over from the closet to her sister.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about my costume that you stole and hid from me!”

“Gigi, when would I even have time for that?!”

“When I went upstairs to give mom her lipstick!”

Isabella blanked at her sister’s charge against her. She tried to reason with herself about Gianna’s logic but it was true–While her sister was upstairs, Isabella could have had plenty of time to take the costume and stash it somewhere.

“I–I didn’t– I don’t know what to tell you–” She bit her lip; She’d sound ridiculous blaming the noise only she heard at night.

“You can start by telling me where my costume is! I spent forever on it to make it look cute! I took pieces off of other past projects for it!” Gianna yelled.

“I didn’t take your stupid costume!”

Gianna sneered and shoved Isabella back against the wall, causing a great thud to erupt from her sister’s room.

“You’re always doing this– Whenever I do something better than you, you always have to ruin it for me! You can’t stand that I finished something before you!” Gianna barked as Isabella held her bruising shoulder. She grabbed Gianna’s arm and threw her back as well, the girl tripping and landing on her side.

“I don’t have your costume–I didn’t take it! You’re being a bitch for no reason! Why do you always pick on me whenever you get upset?!”

“Because you do stuff like this all the time, Bella!”

“Girls–!” Their mother, as if she had manifested into the doorway, stood there, eyebrows furrowed in anger. She looked back and forth between her daughters, surveying the fight and the damage done between them. Gianna was still on the ground as Isabella stood, firm on her feet, near the doorway. Dissecting the situation as quickly as she could, it seemed clear where the problem lay, according to the woman.

“Isabella, did you throw your sister to the ground?”

“W– She–! She hit me first!” Isabella’s cheeks flared red at the words coming out of her mouth. She felt like such a child, especially under her mother’s growingly irritated gaze. Gianna looked away from the two of them and Isabella glared at the back of her head; She knew her sister was hiding a satisfied smirk.

“I don’t want to hear it! I won’t tolerate this kind of disruption in my house. From either of you.” Their mother stated, sternly, but Isabella knew she only added that last part for flare. For security. Her one, clear target was standing-strong Isabella, towering over her poor, beaten sister laying on the ground, who must be shielding her face in terror. Isabella’s lips drew tight and she stormed out of the room, ignoring her mother’s yapping about her disrespect. With a slam, Isabella locked herself in her room, snatching her own costume from her closet and throwing it into the trashbin by her desk.

Halloween was stupid–It was all stupid anyway. No wonder she hadn’t paid much attention to it all to begin with. Why would she ever want to spend another holiday with these people?

It was evening of the 30th when Gianna stepped downstairs for dinner, called by her father who had arrived with take-out. A simple tex-mex meal for each of them while he would be taking his wife out for a date. Gianna gladly grabbed her soda and burrito, heading for the couch to watch a movie, before her father stopped her.

“Oh, Gigi, honey, you forgot this out here–” Her father dipped down to the corner of the dining room, lifting a black entanglement of lace, nylon, and polyester. Gianna stared, unblinking, at her costume, hanging from his hands, the fresh sequins and plastic gems that she sewed only a few nights prior still clinging onto it and sparkling in the lights.

“But– How did–”

“I’ll leave it right here for you. Go hang it up after you eat, you know how your mother gets about clothes being left around the house.” He chuckled, eyebrows raised in a half-joking, half-warning manner, as he disappeared around the corner to retrieve his spouse, leaving Gianna to stumble towards the couch, confused.

Isabella wiped her cheeks, dewy with her tears and sniffed the sadness from the back of her throat. It felt horrid, the crashing from once feeling so good to being thrown into a whirlwind of family fighting. Noises from the hallway and downstairs told her that her father was home and her sister was going to greet him. Usually, Isabella would join, but not tonight. Slowly, she began feeling as if she was not a part of this family. Like some intruder that crammed its way into a bedroom that was vacant only until recently. Isabella curled in on herself and stifled a sob; How could her mother have not even asked for her side of things?

Silence fell over the hallway once more and she assumed her sister must be downstairs with dinner. Her stomach groaned and begged but Isabella’s sorrow was too heavy a weight to get up from underneath. Instead, she wrapped herself in her blanket and wiped her tears once more with her sheets, closing her eyes to try and rest. Tomorrow will be Halloween. She comforted herself with the idea that instead of the party, she could watch a scary movie. She could visit a local haunted house. She could do so much that would take her away from this home; She would be so happy.

Her eyes opened to the darkness of her room and she squinted to read the clock on her phone. Two in the morning.

‘Happy Halloween’, she murmured to herself, mentally, as she stretched and lifted herself from her bed, groggy and hot and all-around uncomfortable. There was a sour taste in her mouth and her clothes clung too closely. Worst of all, she felt like her bladder was about to burst.

She kicked her sheets off and stretched again, lifting herself from the bed and stepping into the dark hallway to reach the bathroom. It was freezing and she cursed to herself that she should have grabbed a sweater. Her mother loved turning the AC off at night during the fall. Stumbling through the hallway, her hand sliding along the wall, she found the restroom and stepped in, the cold tile stinging her already frigid toes.

‘Socks too could’ve been nice. God, mom…’, she thought, washing her hands and drying them on the towel hanging from the rod by the sink. As she left the bathroom, her foot stepped onto the cool wood of the hallway, and it dawned on her where she was and what time it was.

The silence seemed suddenly too loud and a ringing in her ear was drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat beginning to hammer as she looked around. She could barely see a thing. Isabella knew her flashlight was still somewhere in her bedroom which even now seemed impossible to find. Using her hand against the wall as before, she began to walk back the way she came, counting the approximate amount of footsteps it would take to reach her room again.

“Man, I really should’ve–”, she spoke, aloud to no one but herself if not to fill the silence and ease her anxiety, until her eyes adjusted and she felt her heart nearly stop. At the end of the hallway, on the very edge of the corner where the stairs lead down to the first floor, a twisted figure stood, leaning over and staring at her. It moved, like a misty shape that couldn’t quite figure out where to set its limbs, and came stepping, Tap-Tap-Tap, onto the second floor. In less than a second, Isabella realized the shape was coming more into view. It was nearing. It was walking, gliding towards her.

“Ah– Ah!” She screamed and nearly fell backwards, stumbling back towards the bathroom. But in the darkness, she could no longer find the frame to the door. Her panic seized her senses and she couldn’t make out which way was her room, her sisters, or her parents. She could only see darkness and hear the sound of the thing engaging faster, TAP-TAP-TAP behind her. Her legs carried her towards the end of the hall where, painfully, her finger snagged on a door frame and she reached for the knob, only to find the door ajar as she bumped her elbow into it. Isabella cried and winced, sliding into the room and slamming the door shut. She could hear the creature outside advancing onto the door, gripping the knob and rattling it with a great strength that Isabella couldn’t understand how she fought against. Her finger, bleeding, found the lock and although it slipped once, she managed to lock it and let go of the door.

Silence fell over the room at once, leaving her ears ringing once more, as she trembled and held her bleeding finger. She felt the wall for a lightswitch but couldn’t find one.

“W-What– Oh my god– Gigi?! Mom? Dad?!” Isabella called out, her arms feeling around in the dark for any sense of which room she may have stepped into. There was no response. Her voice echoed back to her and she whimpered, tears welling into her eyes as she pulled her arms back towards herself. She knew where she was; That door–The one that thunked and clanked at night that she had so desperately tried to think of forgetting.

“You’re joking–No, no, no, this is a bad dream. Please wake up, please wake up–” She slapped herself but all she felt was the blood of her finger hit her face. Awake. Real. All of it. She turned around, staring at where she could remember the door was, and wondered that if she opened it, would she have a chance to reach Gianna’s room? It should be right next door, if she remembered correctly.

“...yy..” A tiny sound came from somewhere in the room and Isabella turned, eyes wide and heart thundering in her chest. She leapt from where she stood towards the door, her arm reaching out for the knob.

“Mom!! Dad!! Hel– Ah!!” Her knuckles hit the wall and a loud crack echoed into the room. An unbelievable pain crept up her arm and into her lungs. She felt her wrist. Any pressure was met with a sting and that same sweeping throbbing up her arm. She whined and hiccupped out a sob; She’d broken her wrist. Isabella panicked, gasping for air as she slammed her other hand onto the wall, feeling around for the door.

“It was just here! What the fuck!!” She cried, her hand scraping over nothing but concrete. When her palm slipped from concrete to wood and insulation, her heart dipped and she could feel light at the edges of her vision. The door–It wasn’t there. Concrete only stood where it once was.

Her mother had lied to her; There was once a door here. As a last effort, Isabella screamed and wailed and clawed at the concrete, her fists pounding and nails cracking under the force of her hands trying to dig and dig out of the room. She screamed through her voice growing hoarse, her larynx strained and bruising, her wrist cracking, her hands burning and bleeding. Plshhht, plshhht came from behind her. Tap-tap-tap.

“Yyy….yyyyyy……” It whispered, as if inside her own ear.

Isabella shut her eyes and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Gianna dragged her finger against the rosy sheets of her bed. She felt just awful. How could she have been so silly, blaming her sister so quickly like that when she must have forgotten to check the corner in the dining room. She was sure she had, but her father stood there and confidently picked it up from the spot. She decided she’d be careful not to overlook things like that again. Groaning, she covered her eyes in shame.

“How could I say something like that…”, she moaned, her cheeks blazing red, remembering the overly-deep accusation of calling her twin sister out on snuffing out Gianna’s flame whenever she shined brighter. It was silly, all so silly. They’re young–Only teens. They have their whole lives ahead of them to make great choices; Both of them. Gianna had just been so, so angry. She’d worked hard on that costume.

‘And I didn’t even help Bella’s…and today’s the party…’, she thought, choking up. She felt selfish and cruel. Isabella was her sister and had always been there for her whenever she struggled academically. How could she abandon her when she needed Gianna for her own creative skills?

“Right…”, Gianna sighed, gathering up her courage to pull out her wallet from the bedside table. She’d been saving up her allowances for a new sewing kit but it felt right to use a bit of it to get Isabella a pretty, new costume. Maybe they could even match. Gianna smiled at the thought as she got out of bed and dressed quickly. It was freezing; Mom hadn’t turned on the heating yet so they must still be asleep. They were out late for their date.

The hallway was eerily quiet as Gianna stepped into it, her socks protecting her feet from the chill held in the wood. The morning light from downstairs and at the end of the hall barely illuminated the details of the space. She realized she’d forgotten to even check what time it was. No store would be open for the girls this early, but then again, Gianna felt warm at the idea of also treating her sibling to some breakfast.

‘I’ll get her a London Fog and a crepe. She’ll love that. Then I can surprise her with the costume trip.’, she thought, tip-toeing her way to her sister’s room so as to not wake their parents. However, she paused. From where she stood in the hall, at the corner, she looked at her sister’s room and saw the door swung wide open.

“Weird…”, Gianna stated, walking closer to the opened door, “...hey, Bella, you awake…?” She asked, carefully, in case her sister was still in a sour mood from yesterday, but when she surveyed the room, she couldn’t find Isabella at all.

‘Maybe she’s downstairs already.’ Yet, a sweep of the house confirmed to Gianna that Isabella was nowhere to be found. Starting to grow worried, she assumed that her sister must have been very upset and decided to go on a walk, but Gianna considered that, at least, their parents should know about it. She climbed the stairs again, coming around the corner and past her room. Her legs halted and she braced her palm against the wall as her eyes blinked once, twice, to confirm what she was seeing. Against the swelling light of the morning, a smear of red was visible on the wall. Gianna crept up close to it but she could tell what it was. A streak of blood, dried, leading to the empty end of the hallway.

‘Dear Diary,

It’s November 8, 2012, and the police still don’t know what happened to Isabella. They put out a missing notice and dad thinks she might have run away with some boyfriend. It doesn’t make sense though. If she was with someone, I would’ve known. I feel bad about fighting with her. Was I the reason she left? Mom keeps telling me to not think that way and that Bella was just ‘troubled’. I hope they can find her. I’ve been having these awful dreams since she left. Something upstairs keeps pounding on the wall and screaming all night and it sounds like her. I can’t get any good sleep anymore. I’ve been spending the night at my friends’ houses more and more because I can’t stand it. I haven’t told mom or dad. They’ll think I’m crazy. I hope the police find her soon. I think the guilt is really getting to me. I wish I could say I’m so sorry.’