My child's death was my fault
I was a lonely child who didn't socialize much. I lived in my own little world, far removed from the outside one. My mother was always traveling for work, leaving me alone with a nanny. I think my mother blamed me for my father's death - she never seemed to have time for me. There was never the usual mother-daughter bonding that I saw other kids have.
I met this strange girl in the house, she had pale skin and long black hair. Her eyes were circled with dark hollows, and her nails were long and unkempt. She seemed to live under my bed, always staring up at me with her long face, a twisted reflection of my own face.at first I was scared,but with time we became friends.
"Mum, I'm talking to my friend," I said. "She's right over there." I pointed, but my mother couldn't see her. "Nobody can," my friend, Makku, said. "Can't you see her?" I asked my mother.
"Honey," she said as she bent down. "I'm going on a business trip tomorrow and I'll be hiring a nanny for you." She reached out and touched my hair. "But Mum, me and my friend can stay alone," I protested. "No, you need someone to take care of you," she insisted. I was about to protest again when she interrupted me. "I've already made up my mind," she said. "The nanny will arrive tomorrow morning."
I felt frustrated and angry. I knew I could take care of myself, and I didn't need a nanny. But it was clear that my mother wasn't going to change her mind. I sighed and went up to my room, feeling defeated.
That night, I crept under my bed to tell my friend Makku that Mum was leaving me again. She didn't love me anymore, not since Dad died saving me. As she cuddled me with her long nails digging into my skin, I didn't care - I felt more at home with Makku than I ever had with Mum. "Very soon," she whispered softly into my ear, "you'll be with me, where you won't feel unloved." I smiled at the thought.
"Clary, Clary," Mum called my name from the living room. I didn't answer. I didn't want to see her sad, big eyes. I stayed under the bed. "Clary, what are you doing under the bed for Christ's sake?" Mum said, finding me curled up in a ball. I looked around, but Makku was nowhere to be found. "I was with Makku," I said. "Clary, stop it. Stop ruining everything for me like you used to."
"I'm running late for my job," Mum said. "I've prepared your favorite foods, and your nanny will microwave them. Clary Mum wait_""Yes?" I asked. "Do you love me, Mum?" "What kind of question is that?" Mum replied. "Of course I do." "Then please stay," I begged. "I want to go with you." "Clary, you can't," Mum said. "A construction site is no place for a kid like you."
"Be a good girl, alright?" Mum said. Clary didn't reply, but ran to her room. Mum doesn't love me, Clary thought. I know she blames me for Dad's death. If I leave, she won't miss me. Clary sobbed to Makku, who smiled at her.
The nanny rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. She used the spare key, calling for Clary, but got no response. The nanny didn't care; children needed their time, she thought.
Clary was busy drawing, humming a strange song as she did. The nanny noticed something off about the drawing - it was of a girl with dark, hollow eyes, smiling eerily. Clary's humming got louder, sounding more like chanting. The nanny felt uneasy. Something wasn't right. She tried to get Clary's attention, but the girl was lost in her own world.
"Clary, let's go," the nanny said. "It's time for lunch." But Clary didn't seem to hear. Eventually the nanny got tired and left.
Clary followed Makku outside of the courtyard, humming a strange song as she went. The nanny was inside, watching a movie, oblivious to what Clary was doing.
"You see that well over there?" Makku whispered. "That's where many people like us are. Your dad is there, too. He'll love us the way your mom never could."
Clary hesitated, but jumped into the well without another thought. As noon approached, the nanny went to Clary's room, calling her name. But there was no response.
The nanny shouted Clary's name, growing more and more frantic with each passing second. She called Clary's mom, who came rushing over. Together, they searched the house and the yard, but Clary was nowhere to be found. Just as they were about to call the police, they heard a faint voice calling out from the well.
It was Clary's voice, singing the strange song she had been humming earlier.
As the nanny and Clary's mom peered into the well, they saw Clary's pale face floating in the water, her eyes wide open and a terrifying smile on her lips. Her arms and legs were bound with vines and leaves, as if she had been caught in some kind of plant-like trap. The nanny screamed, but Clary's mom stood there, transfixed, unable to move.
"Why did you call me here?" Clary's mom heard a voice whisper in her ear. She turned, but no one was there.
The horror on her mother's face as she saw her daughter like that was too much to bear. She let out a huge scream, but it was too late - poor little Clary was already dead.
She couldn't bear the loss of both her daughter and father, and blamed herself for what had happened. She shut herself in the house, hoping Clary would return to her. Rumors say she went mad, talking to her dead daughter alone at night, making dinner for her, too.
It was whispered in hushed tones that the house was haunted by both Clary's and her mother's ghosts. Some say that anyone who tried to live in the house would tell tales of strange things happening - laughter echoing in the night, doors opening and closing on their own, and a feeling of being watched. But what if it was all just a story, or even just a dream?
