So I drove to Allie’s. I didn’t expect traffic to be moving that fast. I was scared at first, and I almost caused a few accidents. But I ended up at her house intact. It was small, single-story. Last house on the street. I knocked on the door frantically, and I think I was still crying but I’m not really sure, I’d been crying the whole time so it felt almost normal.

She answered the door. She was a bit shorter than I expected, but the glasses and the auburn hair and the pale skin and the beautiful face were the same as the picture. And for the first time, I hugged Allie. 

She was startled, but recognized me. She cautiously returned the hug, putting her arms around me. And for a moment there, I thought everything was going to be okay. I felt loved. Allie gently pulled away, leading me inside the house, into the kitchen. I think it was about when she sat me down on one of the chairs at the little dining table when I saw Jane for the first time. 

Jane was looking down on the counter, colouring a picture.

Jane’s hair was a greasy mess of pitch black tangles and knots, practically flowing over the chair.

Jane looked up.

Jane’s skin was slick and mottled and spotted, rough bumps of I don’t even know what creeping all over her skin.

Jane turned her head towards me.

Jane’s eye sockets were sunken in, stained by some dark fluid that was now crusting over. 

Jane stared deep into my eyes.

Jane’s eyes were two little white points of light peeking out from two dark, empty spaces in her head, lidless and unflinching.

Jane smiled.

Jane’s teeth were long, uneven yellow fangs, too many jagged and splintered tips sticking out odd angles.

I screamed at first. I screamed until my throat was horse, trying to get Allie to understand what was sitting in front of her, trying to show her the wretched, filthy thing she’d led into her home. But Allie just got upset. She told me to calm down, ordered me to stop insulting her daughter, I was scaring her. She didn’t get that I was really her daughter, that this...this thing was a fake, a replacement. 

But Allie didn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand, so she couldn’t fix it. I wasn’t going to be pushed out of another home, wasn’t going to lose my mom after finally reaching her. After a while, I understood what I needed to do. I got how to fix It. I calmed down, and waited, eyes always on It, never letting the smile waver from my face when I addressed Allie. From time to time, when Allie preoccupied It with her fussing, I quickly glanced over to the counter. To the knife block. Eventually, Allie left to go get something, or do something. I still can’t remember, because I wasn’t really present; I was painting again, and there was only me and the music and my Canvas. I just needed to get my brush. 

Calmly, slowly, I stood up. The chair leg caught on the floor, and made the slightest scuffing sound. It looked up again, fangs starting to poke through Its’ lips as a cankerous grin split Its’ face. I stepped forward. It rose from Its’ chair on twisted, stunted legs. I took another step forward. It uncurled Its’ hands slowly, fingers too long and jointed in the wrong places, tipped in thick black nails. I took another step. It tilted Its’ head, neck emitting a dull, bone-popping crack, blistered tongue flicking in and out of Its’ mouth. That’s when I ran at It, full speed; it was like hitting a stomach-high brick wall. It tottered back a few steps, and I was able to stagger by, hand closing around a knife from the block. I suddenly felt hands on my shirt. It pulled me down, leaping atop me. I raised the knife, but It smacked my hand down, pinning my wrist with Its’ claws. I felt cold, broken teeth push into my neck, ripping through the skin and piercing muscle. The brown-tinted mucus coating Its’ hide washed over me, sticking and running over my face, into my mouth. I tried to throw It off, tried to struggle; with Its’ free hand, it jammed a finger into my mouth, feeling about until I felt a nail tip driving into my gums. I started screaming, mouth filling with blood as it tore a bunch my teeth out by the roots. I could feel It shudder on top of me, a choking, guttural noise emitting from Its’ throat.

That’s when I heard the thump-thump-thump noise coming up the basement stairs. It pulled Its’ jaws from my neck, widening a blood-smeared grin as the noise got louder. It released my wrist. I could have heard a door open, but I don’t remember now; those little white dots where a sickening light pierced the darkness behind Its’ head dominated my vision. I was still painting through the pain in my mouth and my neck and my wrist and my stomach. I finished my stroke. I thrust the knife into Its’ chest, twitching in surprise as the blade crunched through Its’ ribs as if going through paper. And even as I twisted the knife, It smiled. 

Then It melted away suddenly, nothing more than wisps of thick, black smoke. I slashed with my knife until it dispersed, frantically looking for it. That’s when I saw Allie standing in the basement doorway. Tears streamed down her face. Her mouth was open, making little strangled sobs. I watched her slump to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal as she cried. When I tried to approach her, she screamed in rage. I froze, not understanding; I saved her, didn’t I? She was finally free to be with me! She was free to care about me, now! Her real daughter!

And then Allie said one word to me, her voice a rough whisper. A single word that hit me harder than my mother, harder than a hammer.

“Leave.”

I can still hear her. I can still see her blue eyes crying. I can still feel the bite and the torn-out teeth and the nails in my wrist.

I just wanted someone to love me. I just wanted Allie to love me. Was that too much?  Now there’s nobody to love me. 

Now I’m alone.

I don’t have a mother.

I don’t have a mom.

I don’t have a family.

I don’t have anyone.

No one wants me.

No one cares. 

What are you without the people you love?

Who are you without the people you love?

I’m no one.

I’m nothing.

I’m just another kid on her own.

I’m just another nameless child.