Memory House

Ipecac

That girl had no memories, which made no sense. She was a black hole in a house created by memory. She didn't belong here. I'd put her back in the basement when I found the mysterious man.

I walked across the plastic to another single stair. Up to the dining room. Normally, I'd see a happy family of mine gathered about my favorite meal. My father praying over a steaming plate of spaghetti and noodles. But this, too, had changed.

I saw myself. Age 13. Sitting at the table, clutching a glass of water in one hand, and a bottle of ipecac in the other. She didn't pause even for a second. She poured half the bottle down her throat without even noticing me. She fell out of her chair, behind the table. I knew what was next. I'd done it before. I could hear those sounds across the dining room, unending and disgusting. I small stream of bile dripped down the stairs to the plastic room.

"Why... why did I do that to myself?" I whispered at the prone figure. She was shaking and dry heaving.

"It's...penance." the creature whispered back to me. "I did something wrong. I know it. God won't forgive me."

She leaned on a chair for support. She looked half demented. While my plastic self was scrawny, this girl was a ghost. She wore a thin lacy night-gown. Something dribbled off her chin.

"Not even Jesus will save me now. Just me and a bottle of magic."

Angry and guilty. That's what I was. Not some fake child with a happy family and a stable mind. This side of me had no control. This girl belonged in the basement. The man must have let her out as well.

"He told me it was my fault... I asked for sin and he gave it. Is that true?"

"God forgives all."

"Then this wasn't God."

I left the girl, dribbling and alone in the dining room. I slide the door into the kitchen and took a step in.