This Story Has a Happy Ending

Chapter 1: Hide

I could hear him in the master bedroom, rummaging through the walk-in closet. Clothes hangers scraped noisily against the bar holding them up. Cracking open my bedroom door, I peered out into the narrow hallway. Empty.

My heart beat so loudly that I thought it would beat right out of my chest.
Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.
I tiptoed down the hall towards the stairs leading to the ground floor of the house, careful not to make any noise. Padding lightly down the stairs, I skipped over the second-last step, knowing it would creak.

I missed.

Wincing, I heard the loud screech of the wood bending. From upstairs, the fast-growing sound of heavy footsteps neared the staircase. Surveying my surroundings, my eyes landed on an open wardrobe door. Practically launching myself into the small space as fast as my five year-old legs could carry me, I hastily crouched down and shut the door.

Jackets and scarves hung around my face, making breathing difficult. The darkness was strangely comforting. If I can't see him, then he can't see me, right?

I attempted to slow my breathing as I heard the footsteps trotting down the stairs. The more I tried to slow my breathing, the more lightheaded I became. In my current state, not breathing was next to impossible. Giving up, I noisily sucked in a breath of warm, musty air. The footsteps stopped.

Pulling my legs closer to my chest, I edged deeper into the corner of the wardrobe. The footsteps resumed again and started moving in my direction. All my muscles tensed as I attempted to collapse into myself, to become as small as possible.

My heart almost stopped beating when the doorknob a little above my head began jiggling violently. Within seconds, the door was flung open. As light from the hall window poured into the wardrobe, my vision became bathed in white.

"I found you," he sang.

A gleeful scream escaped my lips as he reached down and began poking at my torso.

"How did you find me, daddy?" I asked, my face contorting from my fits of laughter.

"The tickle monster always knows where to find his favourite little girl," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His irises shone like pools of honey in the golden hour sunlight spilling in through the large window.
He pulled me out of the wardrobe and picked me up, balancing me on his hip.

"Who's your favourite girl?" I questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Her name starts with the letter 'c' and ends with an 'e'."

"My name starts with a 'c' too, daddy!"

"Well, my favourite little girl's name is Chloe too. I don't think that's a coincidence," he said, bopping my nose with his index finger.

"What's a co-when-see-dance?"

"Daddy will teach you all the words you need to know, don't you worry, and Chloe?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?" I replied.

"Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"Chloe," he said again, seemingly frozen in place. His eyes were focused on mine, unmoving and unseeing.

"What?" I cried, growing frantic.

"Chloe"

"Daddy?"

"Chloe"

"Chloe"

"Chloe"

"Beep"

"Beep"

Beep.

Beep.

A soft beeping noise began to fade into my consciousness. I wasn't at home. My dad wasn't there. There was no sunlight. I couldn't move or open my eyes.

Where the hell am I?

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.

Someone please turn that off, goddamnit!

Somewhere in the distance, people were walking briskly across the floor, the clacking of their heels echoing loudly as they went. There was faint coughing coming from the next room. Someone must be sick. The room smelled far too sterile, like someone had sprayed a bottle astringent right under my nose.

I'm in a hospital.