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There was a book that Marie used to read to Emily. It was called The Shadow Ghost.
Before they were moved to the clinic, Marie would sneak into Emily's bed after lights out. It was strictly against the rules, but that never stopped Marie. With a torch she'd stolen from the nurses office, they'd huddle together beneath the covers. The book frightened Emily no matter how many times she heard the story.
She never let Marie leave her bed after that, too afraid to sleep alone for fear of the shadow ghost emerging from beneath her bed. She'd curl up in the crook of Marie's arm as her sister stroked her hair and told her that it was just a story. There was no shadow ghost.
But Marie was wrong.
The cell she's in is cold and it smells awful. Emily hates it even more than her old room, but she'd give anything to return to that one. She silently promises to be a good girl and never even think about leaving ever again.
She tries the door again, knowing it's futile. She can feel rusty iron bars as she runs her fingers up and down each one, standing on tip toes and feeling for any kind of opening. She's tried squeezing through, but even she isn't small enough.
Her knees scrape uncomfortably on the hard floor as she kneels and slips a hand through the bars, groping for something, a rock maybe, to try and break the lock. Something furry scuttles over her hand, making her yelp and snatch her hand back inside.
She tries to reassure herself by thinking about Grace, the first nice person she's met since Marie left. Grace will be looking for her. She needs the object, for some reason. Returning to the bed, Emily lifts the musty pillow and holds the object in her hand. It's made of glass and has a some kind of shaped etched into it. She presses it to her chest and closes her eyes.
She'll come. She has to.
Marie would know what to do. Before, when they could share a bed, Marie talked about the two of them escaping together. They'd steal some food, throw open a window, and disappear into the night. Emily felt like an idiot for believing that their fantasy might someday come true.
There's a distant sound from outside her cell. Emily puts the object under the pillow and moves to the bars, turning her head as she strains to listen. It sounds like an alarm going off, followed by the squeal of rusty hinges, like a door opening. Her heart leaps. The people she can hear moaning and shuffling around outside can't open doors, so it has to be Grace.
There are several rapid pops, one after another. Then comes a inhuman shriek.
Emily stumbles backwards, hitting the wall and clasping both hands over her mouth. The sound of shrieking is followed by a woman's scream that definitely sounds like Grace, and several more pops.
She slides down the wall, covering her ears and humming tunelessly to drown out those horrible noises. Emily doesn't know how long she does this for, but when she finally stops, so too have the noises, and she's left with the creaking pipes and scrabbling of small creatures across the floors.
As she pushes herself up, her hand touches something soft. It's one of the dolls. At least, she thinks they're dolls, like the one's Marie loved so much. She had names for every single one of them and used to tell Emily all about their made up lives.
Emily picks it up. It's skin is cold. She thinks of Marie and hugs it tightly.
When the two of them had been moved from the orphanage to the clinic, Emily thought it was punishment for them breaking the rules. After they were locked inside their new rooms - a four walled chamber with only a bed - Emily had cried herself to sleep every night, despite Marie's best attempts to reassure her.
I'm here, Emily. I'm right here. I'll never leave you.
And once again, Emily had foolishly believed her sister.
The doctors and nurses came and went, performing their tests. Emily said nothing when they spoke to her, gave no visible reaction. Marie wasn't so stoic. She'd fight, snarling like a wild animal as they restrained her. One morning, Emily had awoken to darkness, and no matter how many times she opened and closed her eyes, she couldn't find the light. She'd screamed until Marie had managed to calm her down.
Follow my voice, Emily! I'm right here! I'll never leave you!
But Marie had lied.
Alarms had blared, and Emily had been woken by the doctors and nurses shouting outside of her room. Marie was gone.
When it was quiet again, Emily had called to her. She called again and again, but no one replied. Tears had filled her eyes and she'd collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Marie had left her all alone.
Then, along came Grace.
There's a noise from above Emily's cell, and she drops the doll, starting when it shatters against the hard floor. She keeps still, too afraid to move.
No, no, no. Go away. Please go away!
Emily hears a low, wet hiss and loses her nerve, tripping as she scrambles onto the bed and presses herself against the wall, making her body as small as possible as something heavy hits the floor behind her.
Don't move. Just don't move.
Her body is trembling. She hugs herself tightly, eyes screwed shut as she tries to imagine herself anywhere but here.
She can sense the shadow ghost standing over her, smell it's rancid breath as it wheezes. It hasn't actually hurt her yet, but Emily has heard the sickening sounds of flesh being rendered.
She flinches as something brushes her hair. There's no more space for her to retreat into, so all she can do is lay there as the shadow monster drags one sharp finger nail across her scalp. It doesn't hurt, but Emily's sure the slightest amount of pressure would kill her in an instant. Maybe that would be better than being eaten alive.
Do it. Do it already!
But the shadow ghost does not kill her. Instead, it sniffs her, hot air ruffling Emily's hair.
"P.....layyyyy....."
The word, if it even is a word, comes out in a gurgle, like there's something stuck in it's throat. It makes Emily's skin crawl, but the shadow ghost still hasn't attacked. Maybe it thinks she's already dead?
The shadow ghost drags a finger through Emily's hair again, but this time the nail catches. Emily gasps in pain and, without thinking, turns.
"Stop it! Just leave me alone!"
There's silence for a moment, then the shadow ghost makes an unusual sound. Not angry, but not happy either. It sounds...annoyed? Like an petulant whine. It repeats the same garbled word from before, more insistently.
"P.....layyyyy.....!"
Be brave, Emily.
Emily steels herself and awkwardly stands on the mattress. Even with her raised platform she can feel the shadow ghost looming over her, so she looks up and balls her fists, raising her voice as loud as she dares.
"I said...leave, me, alone!"
This time, the shadow monster definitely sounds angry. It shrieks and rakes the iron bars with it's claws, the sound ringing in Emily's ears as she falls to the mattress, courage evaporating as she presses her back to the wall and covers her face protectively. She feels the rush of air as the shadow monster moves, but then it is gone.
Emily doesn't move, not until exhaustion overcomes her and she slumps onto her side. She has no idea how much time has passed when she comes to, but the shadow ghost is back, running a nail across her scalp again. It stops when Emily stirs. She tilts her head up.
"Please...let me go."
The shadow monster makes a sound that she can't discern, then moves closer.
"E...Em..."
Emily frowns.
"I...I don't understand."
"Em...Emilll...Emilyyyyy..."
Her eyes widen.
"H-how do you know my name?"
"Emilyyy...Emilyyy..."
The shadow ghost repeats her name as though learning it for the first time. But how could it have possibly guessed her name correctly? When the shadow ghost touches her head again, Emily reaches out. The shadow ghost hisses and pulls away.
"I'm sorry," Emily says, feeling for the edge of the mattress and sliding off. "Do...do you have a name? What's your name?"
Silence. Emily reaches out again.
"It's okay. I won't hurt you."
The idea that she could inflict any kind harm is laughable, but it makes her feel braver. She has to brave. That's what Marie would say. She takes a step forward. The shadow ghost hisses again, but it sounds less threatening this time. Emily's takes another step, then another, until she makes contact with something soft.
The shadow ghost has...clothes?
She brings her other had to the fabric, feeling her way up. It's torn in several places but unmistakably clothing, or a very large bedsheet.
"What are you...?" Emily asks, more to herself than to the shadow ghost, who does not answer. She let's out a quiet gasp when her fingers brush one of the shadow ghost's huge hands, but it doesn't pull away. The skin is rough, the fingers unnaturally long and tipped with nails that are more like claws.
Suddenly, the hand encircles Emily's waist and lifts her as easily as one the dolls. But Emily doesn't scream this time, though the stench of meat makes her feel a little sick, but she forces herself not to turn away. She reaches out and this time she makes contact with it's face.
The shadow ghost's head is huge, and it doesn't seem to mind Emily touching her. She feels the bump of a nose, cracked lips around a wide mouth, sunken cheeks, the same features she has only in much worse condition. Her hands move up and she feels long, matted strands of hair.
She's not a shadow ghost, or a monster. Just a girl.
"I...I thought you were the shadow ghost."
The girl gently lowers her onto the bed and turns, sniffing as it searches for something. When she turns back, she deposits something in Emily's lap. One of the dolls. She holds it.
"Oh, uh, thanks. Um, do you like dolls?"
The girl does not respond. Emily swallows, her heart racing as she tries to think of what to say.
"M-My friend, Marie, she- "
Emily stops midsentence and her blood chills.
Dolls.
She slowly looks up. The only sound is that of the girl's heavy, laboured breathing.
It can't be.
Emily finds one of the girl's long, crooked fingers.
She knows my name.
"...M-Marie?"
The girl suddenly keens, like the word is painful to her ears.
"Is that really you, Marie?"
The girl gurgles.
"Emmillyyyyy..."
Emily let's out a sob and climbs off the bed, throwing her arms around one of Marie's enormous legs and burying her face in the tattered fabric.
"Marie," she sniffles. "W-What happened? I thought you'd left me! What's happened to you?"
But Emily never has the chance to learn. From outside the cell, she hears a distant voice.
"Emily! Emily, I'm coming!"
Marie snarls and turns as Emily tries to hold on to her.
"No! Marie, wait! She's a friend!" Emily yells, but it's useless. She stumbles and falls as Marie pushes her aside and disappears again.
"Marie! Marie! Come back! Please don't hurt her!"
She shouts until her throat is sore, but Marie doesn't come back, not until Grace takes her from the cell and they escape in the elevator. She nearly kills Grace, but they make it out of the clinic and come so close to escaping.
Then, Emily dies.
When Emily reawakens in a hospital, Grace is there. It takes two nurses to pull her off of Emily, who struggles to understand what she's saying between the tears and babbled words. But it doesn't matter, because she and Grace are alive.
Later, she asks Grace about Marie. It's late, and she's in the crook of Grace's arm as she reads her a story.
"She was my sister," Emily explains when Grace looks confused. "She...she was in the room next to mine."
Grace's face turns pale and she averts her gaze.
"Oh. Uh, Emily, that thing- sorry, Marie, she, uh..."
Emily see's the answer in Grace's eyes and knows she'll never see her sister again.
"She's dead, isn't she?"
Grace takes Emily's hands. They're warm, even through the bandages.
"She's...she's in a better place, Emily."
Emily has spent her whole life thinking of better places. She thinks of the cold cell filled with dolls, of Marie's rattling voice whispering her name. Then she thinks of Marie beside her in bed, stroking her hair and talking of the two of them escpaing. Marie, she thinks, would be glad that at least one of them did.
She nods. "Okay."
Grace officially adopts her soon after, and Emily moves in to her apartment. She has her own room now, with toys and books and a huge bed, one that could fit a hundred of her, or at least two. She lays in bed one night, holding her stuffed bear close as she watches the shapes from her night light dance on the wall.
Sometimes, she thinks that she can feel Marie beside her, small body pressed up against her own, stroking her hair and telling her a story. She never rolls over though, or reaches for her sister, because Emily knows she isn't really there, at least physically.
She slips a hand under the pillow and removes a faded photograph of she and Marie that Grace discovered in a file back at the clinic. Thanks to her, and Elpis, she can see her sister again. Emily presses the photo to her lips and slips it back under the pillow.
"I'll never forget you, Marie."