Solid Walls

Chapter Thirteen

"Do you remember when you first felt the urge to come upstairs, Willa? Did this room always have some kind of allure, or did it only start back when you first asked to switch rooms?"

"Um...well, I don't think I ever really cared about it growing up. I guess I thought of it like an attic. Just sort of empty and boring? The only times I was even curious was when Grandpa was around. He'd kind of avoid walking past the stairs, you know? And he told us it wasn't safe. But like I said, I never thought about it much."

"And then...?"

Willa looked down again and took a bite of a carrot.

"It was like maybe a little over a year ago. Mom and Dad were going to have a dinner party for his work friends; they don't really have those anymore, not since I—not for the past few months. But they used to have them all the time. And Mom wanted me to wear a dress or something, so she could show me off, and I don't know, I just got...mad. Sam and Ed never had to be paraded around like that, you know? They could go do whatever they wanted in the evenings, while I had to stand there and get asked over and over again what kinds of extra curriculars I had at school and what I wanted to be when I grew up...and this was after I'd just spent the whole weekend working on this big science project, and Dad was starting to talk about applications for this, like, 'gifted' program thing they wanted me to do in the summer and—" Willa took a breath to steady herself. "But it's not like all that was strange, okay? There's always stuff like that going on, or at least I can't remember a time when there wasn't. And I don't want you to think they, like, put too much pressure on me or whatever, either. They never make me do anything, not really. They just encourage me to be the best I can be, that's all, and I want to be the best I can be. I want to make them proud and do good so I can get into a good college and get a good job and have a good...everything. So usually I just kind of smiled through the parties. But for some reason that night I just couldn't take it. Before the guests got there I got all nervous and shaky and I...I yelled at Mom and went upstairs to hide from her.

"It might have been the first time I ever went up there by myself. I got lost almost right away...there were so many rooms and doors, and it was so dark, and I didn't know where any of the switches were, and, well, somehow I got so lost, I...I ended up here, in this room. There wasn't hardly anything in it, just the old bed and that big wooden chest that was always too heavy to move." She gestured at the chest behind her, which was covered in rumpled clothes and tangled chargers. "Everything was dusty, which was weird by itself—I grew up with a mom who always keeps things spotless. I don't think I'd ever seen so much dust, it was like an alien planet. And the room was so dark, and I didn't know where I was, and...and I sort of just curled up and started crying. I was only eleven back then," she added quickly, as though to explain away such babyish behavior. She took a deep breath. "And then downstairs the guests started getting here. I know because every time one showed up, they...they rang the doorbell."

Chloe's pen was suddenly motionless against the paper.

"It was so loud," Willa said. "I knew you could hear the bells from the rooms downstairs, but I never thought you'd be able to hear them up here. And so much louder than they ever were before, so much louder. For the longest time it was just me in this room surrounded by dust, curled up in a ball and pressing my hands so tight to my ears I thought I'd squeeze my skull to pieces. But holding my ears didn't make any difference. Every time someone came to the door, it was like they were clanging bells two inches away from me, like leaning over me and bashing them above my head, or standing right in front of me, or right behind...I'd never been so scared in my whole life."

"How long were you up here alone?"

"It felt like forever, but it was only like a couple hours before Dad came looking for me. He was so mad. I could barely talk, barely sit up, so he had to carry me downstairs, past the dining room, where all the people from his office were. I heard them. Muttering stuff like, 'Aw, poor lamb,' 'Sweet little thing,' 'What a good father.' He put me in my room and said later we'd have a talk about my behavior. All that was almost worse than being in the room. Everyone treating me like a baby, I mean. I hated it."

"That sounds like a terrible experience," Chloe said. "But, Willa, it seems like all that would have made you less likely to want to come back up here again, not more."

"Of course I didn't want to come back up," Willa said, shaking her head. "And I didn't come back up, not really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after that, I started doing what my grandpa did. I avoided passing the stairs if I could help it. I jumped and hid in my room every time the doorbell rang. And I sure never climbed up those stairs again."

Chloe frowned. "I don't understand. What do you mean, you never climbed them again?"

"Well, I mean, I must have," She pulled her legs up under her sweatshirt. "But I don't remember doing it." She looked up at Chloe's puzzled expression and bit her lip. "This is the part I don't usually tell people. This is the part where I know I really must sound crazy."

"Am I looking at you like you're crazy, Willa?" Chloe asked quietly.

The girl scrutinized her face, as though unwilling to believe her sincerity. Chloe waited in silence for her to continue.

"It was a couple weeks after that first time in the room. I'd been sleeping really bad, having nightmares I could never remember the next morning. I asked my mom to get me lots of night lights." She gestured behind her at the variously shaped lights plugged into the walls. "That night I went to sleep just like normal. And I must've had another nightmare, because I woke up in the middle of the night. I rolled over in bed and tried to go back to sleep, and...then I realized the pillow felt weird. It was all rough and...and cold. The sheets, too. It felt wrong. I made myself open my eyes, and it was just pitch dark. No light from the nightlights or from the window...and that's when I realized. I wasn't in my room anymore."