She came late one night, a little girl wearing a dirty white gown.

I was sixteen, living in a run-down house with not-so-supportive parents. While I lied asleep in bed, faint noises gently woke me. My lids were heavy, the sting from tears still fresh. I checked the time on my phone with an eye half open, and it was a little more than an hour past midnight. The thin blanket wasn't enough for the chill, and it was quiet except for the consistent drops of light rain hitting against my window. Was it the pattering that woke me? I lied in bed a little longer, listening and waiting. A muffled knock came from outside my room and down the hall. I slowly pushed myself up, feeling reluctant, but curiosity was always my downfall. The floor was even colder.

I peeked down outside into the hall, and it came again. It was the front door, but who would be here at this hour, and why? 

I listened again, maybe it was Mom or Dad and they locked themselves outside, but then I heard them snoring from their bedroom. They were always loud sleepers. I debated if I should wake them, but I had enough bruises. Before going to check who it was, I took out a long sleeved shirt from my old dresser and wore it to hide them. 

I took steady steps towards the door, heel toe, heel toe, just like I read somewhere before, taking care not to wake up my parents. When I reached the door, I looked out the peephole and saw no one standing outside. Maybe I was hearing things? I turned around to head back to bed, but I heard it again. This time I knew for sure there were knocks.

Keeping the chain lock secured, I creaked open the door and I froze. I was met with a cool breeze and half the face of a child, a little girl who didn't seem older than ten. She stood at the porch, drenched from the drizzle outside. She had blonde hair that reached her shoulders, her face almost as pale as a porcelain doll. The white gown she wore had lots of dirt, and her bare feet and arms had visible cuts and bruises. Seeing those, mine ached and I quickly unlocked and opened the door. She kept quiet and still for a moment. She looked up at me, the color of her eyes a dark shade of brown. When they became teary and her lips sucked in, she pulled the teddy bear she held closer to her face. I took another look at the bruises on her arms and held my own; she didn't need to explain to me what happened. Though I wasn't sure about my house being the best choice to be her permanent safe place, I could at least let it be her sanctuary for the night. I placed my hand on her back and led her inside.

I guided her to the living room and she sat down on the couch. "Wait here, okay? I'll go and grab a few things for you." She gave a very slight and quick nod, still holding the bear to her face. I went to the kitchen and got her a glass of warm milk. From my bedroom closet I grabbed an extra blanket and a pillow. This blanket was even thinner, but it was better than nothing. I returned to the living room and tried to hand them to her. Her brows furrowed as she stared at me. "It's okay." 

She put the bear, also wet and dirty, down on her lap and took the warm glass with both hands. She rotated the cup several times, her eyes widening as if she enjoyed the warmth in her palms. She took a couple of sips before she hastily put it down on the table. I walked to her and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and it wasn't until then that it occurred to me how under dressed she was for the weather outside.

I sat down and smiled when she turned to face me. "Do you need a place to stay tonight?" Again, she gave a quick nod. "Can I at least know your name?"

She looked away, and there was a long interval of silence before she answered. "Liliana." Her lips barely moved and her voice was soft.

I smiled again. "Nice to meet you, Liliana. Don't worry, okay? You're safe here and you can stay the night." Liliana turned to me and her eyes glowed a little, then she placed her head on the pillow and curled up, tightly hugging her bear. I stayed a little longer to see if anything else would arise, but nothing did.

I got up to go back to my room. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome." When I reached my bed, I fell asleep instantly.

Morning came and I was jarred awake with loud, indistinct shouts coming from the living room. My heart raced, but not for myself - I feared for what was happening to Liliana. I didn't think about the consequences of letting her stay, and why didn't I? All I could do was hurry down the hall. I slowed to a stop when I was near the living room.

"Don't mess with me, Dave!" Mom yelled. "You were probably with that bitch again last night. What was her name? Kathy?"

"I didn't do anything last night! I was with you, sleeping the whole damn time!" Dad argued back.

"Don't play that shit with me. Look at the carpet! Someone obviously went out last night!"

I entered the living room, both of their gazes snapping to me. I looked at the carpet and saw spots of dirt leading towards the empty couch. Liliana was gone, the only evidence she had been here being an empty glass and the dirt. Not even the pillow and blanket were there. 

"It was me," I blurted out."I...I went out for a walk last night."

"You what?" Mom walked towards me and I clenched my fists. Her hand slapped me across face. "What the hell were you doing out last night? You thinking of running away, but lost your nerve and turned back? And then you leave this mess?" She took me by the chin and lifted my face up. "Don't do that again." She let me go then went into the kitchen. I didn't turn to him, but I could tell my father was giving me a look. 

"Clean up after yourself, you little shit," he hissed.

I spent the next ten minutes doing just that before I got ready for school. In the bathroom, I searched my face for a new bruise. Thankfully, my mother didn't hit me hard enough to leave one, or maybe my face has gotten used to it. After brushing my teeth, I headed to school. While there, during lunch time, my friends were having a conversation about a certain violent video game. They began talking about a mission where your character has to go and kill someone without being noticed. After hearing that, another one of our friends was reminded of something he heard last night and spoke up.

"Did you hear about the woman who was found dead last night? They found her on the floor, and they don't know who the killer is." We all inched closer to him in excitement. "It's real creepy. My older brother was telling me about it since he's into that stuff. It's kind of like the mission in the game. Oh, and she also had a daughter, but they haven't found her yet." I remained silent about the subject as he kept talking about it. The woman's name was Anne, or Leanne, or something with an -anne, and that she was found without a throat. Like, completely gone according to his brother. I didn't believe it at first since I thought it was just some high school gossip or rumor, or one of those urban legends, but nonetheless it got me interested.

When I arrived at home, my parents were on the couch flipping through channels. They kept glued to the television screen and didn't greet me, so I remained quiet and kept walking towards my room. As I entered the hallway, the television stopped at the news channel. "More on the woman who was found dead last night." I stopped walking and turned around. "Maryanne James, 36 years old, was a math teacher at a local middle school. A call from one of her neighbors was made two nights ago after hearing some disturbing noises. Police came only minutes after the call, but they were too late."

Maryanne, that was it - that was the name I heard. It wasn't a rumor.

"Her body, absent throat, was found on the kitchen floor. Blood smeared on the walls and several objects scattered on the ground stand as evidence of a struggle, most likely between Mrs. James and her attacker. Police also said that Mrs. James had an eight year old daughter by the name of Liliana, who is currently nowhere to be found." I felt a sudden chill, as if for a split second all warmth left my body. I stared at the screen wide-eyed when a picture of her appeared. Though it was definitely her on the screen, she looked different. Instead of being pale, her skin was tan, and her eyes were a darker brown. The rain and cold probably caused her to look pale, but I wasn't so sure about her eyes. 

"None of the neighbors have seen her since before the death of her mother. The light drizzle late that night eventually turned into heavy rain, and many believe this provided cover for little Liliana to escape unnoticed. At the moment, the police are working more towards finding the daughter. We have received no further update on that matter, at least none that we are at liberty to discuss. If you have any information, please don't hesitate to contact the police."

I heard my father scoff before changing the channel again. I looked down at my feet as walked to my room, dropped my things, and jumped on the bed with my mind full of thoughts. Last night I thought I was saving Liliana from the abuse of her parents, but maybe I was wrong. She had bruises like mine, but unlike her I didn't have any cuts. Maybe the injuries she had were caused by the same person who killed her mother. Did she escape before she was killed, too? So where did Liliana go after coming here? Her father wasn't mentioned, so maybe she went to go looking for her dad. It didn't seem possible for someone her age. She probably couldn't even remember the way, and even if she did she was only eight years old. I began to debate whether or not I should call the cops.

I decided not to for selfish reasons. If my parents knew the truth of what I'd done, I'd undoubtedly be punished. It didn't matter that I was helping someone.

I sat up and stayed silent for a long time, rubbing my fingers together and biting my bottom lip in anxiety, not knowing what to do with what I knew. I remained in bed just thinking, not minding the hunger I felt after a few hours. So for dinner, I had sleep.

I didn't know what time it was, but I woke up to something soft and soothing brushing my arm, almost airy. I carefully opened my eyes and held my breath in surprise. It was Liliana. She stood beside my bed, stroking my bruised arm with her hand and holding her teddy bear with the other. Looking closely, the bear seemed dirtier, wetter like it was rained on again and thrown around in mud. Liliana also looked a bit different. It was dark in my room, and it was like her skin gave off a slight glow. She turned to face me, and her eyes seemed even lighter now, almost...gray.

"It won't happen again," she whispered. And then, before I could even ask her what happened to her, my consciousness faded to sleep.

My body felt rested the next morning, a bit groggy as I pulled my blanket over my head to get a few more minutes of sleep. I jolted up when I remembered. I checked my arm; the bruises were still there, but I poked them and they didn't hurt as much, and were considerably smaller. Was I just dreaming last night?

I walked out into the hallway and the house was silent as always, but it was too quiet. I went to go check on my parents and saw they were gone. I thought nothing of it and got ready for school.

My time in classes passed quickly, mostly because I was still caught up with my thoughts about Liliana. I almost didn't realize that it started raining, practically storming at one point. The rain had died down a bit when I reached the bus, and by the time I got home it had gone down to sprinkling. I entered my house expecting to see my parents walking or sitting around, but it was quiet still. I called out to them a couple of times as I shut the door behind me, but there was no answer. Thinking they were still gone, I took this chance to watch the news.

I placed my things on the table and started watching. For a while, there was nothing about Maryanne and Liliana. They talked about the current traffic, a robbery at a store, and the weather. The weatherman said the rain would last for another day or two. When there was only about ten minutes left of the news, they finally got to it.

"Now, an update on the horrendous killing of Maryanne James. Kevin?" The female news anchor turned to her partner.

"Thank you, Jennifer." From under their desk he pulled out a small stack of paper. He cleared his throat. "To start things off, it says here that Robert James, ex-husband of Maryanne and father of Liliana, was found dead in a similar fashion this morning. When they found Mr. James, he was lying dead in bed, no evidence of struggle or foul play. His door was locked and all but one window were shut. The investigators speculated that maybe someone went through the opened window, but it seemed impossible. Mr. James lived in an apartment that was located on the fourth floor of the building. If someone did go through the opened window, they would've gone through a lot of trouble.

"Another speculation was suicide, but that seemed even more unfeasible as Mr. James would've surely died before being able to inflict such grievous wounds to his throat. Now, this is when things get a little weird." He turned to look at his partner for a second as if he wanted to calm his nerves before continuing. "The house of Maryanne James was under constant watch since the police call, and the investigators went in and out of the building multiple times. While it was raining, an investigator was walking around in the backyard in search of clues. There, she found a teddy bear sitting against the fence. When she walked by it, she saw something poking out from the ground it was on. Upon closer examination, she realized it was a finger. She immediately dug with her hands and found the body of Liliana James, her stiff body covered in cuts and bruises." 

My heart dropped.

"Thanks to the rain and because the house was built on the curved edge of a hill, some of the dirt was washed away and revealed her grave. Since this recently happened, how she died and where she got the injuries from are still being investigated. Though the investigator who found her, judging by the condition of Liliana's body, says that she believes she was killed before her mother.

"To top it off, our sources say that a member of Maryanne's family contacted the police the past day. This person wishes to remain anonymous, but said that both Robert and Maryanne were abusive. In more than one occasion, she had noticed bruises on Liliana's arms and legs and rope burns on her wrists. The police are not sure whether or not this information is true, but if it is it places Maryanne James, though dead, as a suspect of the death of Liliana. The recent finding of her body and the injuries suffered before her demise may lead to answers."

"So it's possible that the mother could've killed her own child?" the female news anchor added, "That's insane."

"It's very possible, but until further investigation nothing can be truly proven. Even after they solve this mystery, they have another one to solve - who killed the parents and why?"

As the episode came to a close, I was speechless. There was no way Liliana could've died before her mother. I saw her one night after Maryanne was killed and, if memory serves true and it wasn't a dream, I saw Liliana last night also. I never thought about it, but how did she even get in? Suddenly, I remembered what she whispered to me.

It won't happen again.

Her words echoed within as I rubbed one of my bruises. What did she mean by that?

The door swung violently, jolting me from my thoughts. My parents stumbled in mumbling and laughing. Dad was helping mom walk straight as he held a bottle of liquor with his other hand. I quickly turned off the television, took my backpack, and began heading to my room.

"Stop right there, kid," Dad commanded with slurred words. I stopped and turned around, holding my backpack tighter. Mom had her hands ahead of her making sure she doesn't fall and traipsed towards the couch. Dad came inches away from my face, the scent of alcohol strong and causing me to breathe irregularly. He smiled. "Here, take a drink." He held the half empty bottle to my face.

I stared at it. "I-I'm not old enough."

He shook his head before taking a swig. "Kid, ain't nobody watching! And I bet a lot of your friends are already drinking. Come on, I'm trying to be a 'cool dad!'"

Hesitantly, I shook my head. "I'm f-fine." This time, my voice cracked a little bit.

The back of his hand struck my face and sent me to the ground, as if he was waiting for that answer. "Suit yourself, you ain't ever do shit I ask anyways," he said disdainfully, taking another drink. I remained on the ground, angry and clenching my fists until he walked away. I got up silently and went to my room.

I sat on my bed, using a small mirror to check the damage caused to my face. Surprise, surprise, I had a new bruise. Anger welled inside me; Dad hit harder than Mom, and that was the only reason why I hated him more than her. I poked it lightly and flinched. 

Why is this happening to me, of all people? I've never hurt anyone, have I? Did I deserve this somehow? After waiting in my room for about an hour, I went out into the kitchen when I heard my parents' familiar snoring from the living room. At the sight of them, I got even angrier,so I quickly turned away.

I poured a glass of water and decided to make a peanut butter sandwich. I pulled out the drawer one of the drawers, and inside I found a single sharp knife next to the butter knives. I began to have thought. All it would take was one, just one clean slice to their throats and they would no longer bother me. Who cares about the repercussions when you live the way I do? As long as no one hurt me anymore, that's all the mattered, and that thought was tempting, so tempting that my hand went for the knife.

"Don't do it," a soft voice said behind me. I slammed the drawer shut and turned around, my jaw dropping at the sight. There she was again.

"Liliana?" She held her teddy bear close to her chest with both arms. I kneeled in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders to tell me if she was real. She was, but was she really? She was cold, so very cold. Even if I didn't want to, I was starting to believe this wasn't really her body. I began thinking the impossible.

"I knew what you were thinking, but you shouldn't do it. I thought about doing it a lot, too. I don't like my parents," she said in monotone. She placed her hand on my cheek to cover my bruise. Her touch was cool, soothing. "Sorry that it happened again."

"Are you okay, Liliana?"

"I'm better now." She removed her hand. "I was getting hurt a lot before, but now there's no more pain."

"Are...are you dead?".

Her eyes looked to the side and she nodded. "It was mommy. I accidentally bumped into her while I was playing and spilled the hot coffee she was holding on her feet. She screamed, and then she pushed me back and I fell down the stairs. I don't think she meant to kill me though. I remember she panicked when I landed on my neck. I heard her yelling, then she carried me and brought me to our backyard. I think I was already...," her voice trailed off, pausing for a couple of seconds, "Yeah, I was dead when I was watching mommy. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, but I was able to hear her, see her, and feel her. Before everything turned dark, the last thing I remember feeling was dirt hitting my face. When I woke up, I was standing and looking down on the ground where she buried me."

I felt my heart twist with pain. "Do you know what happened to your mom?"

Her gaze went to the ground. "It was me. I was the one who did it," she admitted. My jaw dropped, and before I could ask why she began to explain. "I wasn't going to at first, but there was something with me, someone telling me what I should do. It told me to hurt her, but I said no, I didn't even know if I could, but then I got upset when I saw mommy. She was cooking in the kitchen like nothing happened. Then she smiled, she was happier and I got really, really angry. She never smiled with me before. The voice started to laugh, and things started to float around all over the house. And then I was watching myself again.

"I saw my jaw get lower and felt my bones cracking, stretching down and getting bigger, and then more teeth appear where shouldn't be and they became sharp. My arms and legs got longer, too, longer than my body like a spider's and I started moving like one, but it didn't hurt, none of it did. I didn't know what to do when it was happening, I didn't know how to stop it, but...I didn't want to stop it anymore." She looked up at me, and I hadn't noticed that her eyes were completely gray now.

 "I growled and the house shook, then mommy turned around, saw me, and screamed. She ran away while I chased her and she made a big mess. She wouldn't shut up." Liliana smiled, and then her voice changed. Though I didn't know how her mother sounded like, I believed that it was hers. "'You're supposed to be dead! You're not supposed to be here! Why won't you leave me alone!?'" Liliana kept repeating, all the while keeping her sinister smile. "When she finally stopped struggling, I remembered the times she held my neck so hard that I couldn't breathe," Liliana's soft voice returned, "so I did the same, and I did it harder than she could, much harder. By the time I was done, almost her entire neck was gone."

I swallowed my own spit. After everything I just heard, it was hard to find even my own voice. I felt my hands trembling before something that I couldn't fathom. In order to keep appearances, I tried to remain calm. "And your dad?" I managed to ask.

Her nose crunched and she bared her teeth. "They deserved it," she answered quickly, her tone having yet another change, but this one was subtle, like it was backed by some deep, guttural voice. I wondered if that was the actual voice of whatever was in front of me. I saw her grip her teddy bear tighter. "Since he was sleeping and I knew what to do by then, I was quicker with him." I felt fear and my breath staggered.

"So what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to sway her thoughts from her parents.

She eased her grip and her voice returned. "I heard what you were thinking and felt what you wanted to do," she replied.

"You can read my thoughts?"

"No, not always. Only during certain times. I think I heard you because it happened again, and because you're real close. But I've been hearing other voices lately, too."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "What happened again? What other voices?"

She pouted her face. "The one on your face. That's a new one, right?" I touched my bruise. "I let it happen again, even though I said it wouldn't. Sorry." She took a step forward and again placed her hand on my face, surprising me causing me to flinch away. "It's okay. You, I won't hurt." Then, I felt a familiar warmth hovering over my cheek. "I know how you feel about me and what I've done, I can still read your thoughts, but weren't you just thinking of doing something similar to your parents? I know that I'm scary now too, like my parents and yours, but don't worry. I won't hurt you, and no one ever will again. Just sleep."

"Sleep? No, wait-" and within a few seconds, I felt fatigue overcome my body and my vision went black.

I woke up to a consistent beeping. The light above me hurt my eyes when I tried to open them. I turned away from it to see a monitor with a green line, zigzagging up and down every few seconds. I don't know how long I did, but I stared at it blank mindedly, not caring or trying to figure out where I was until I heard someone come. 

"Oh, you're awake now," a lady said. My eyes have adjusted to the light. I looked ahead of me and saw a nurse with a clipboard. "How are you feeling?"

I took a huge breath, feeling my body relax as I let air out. "Where am I?" I asked.

"Can't tell? You're at a hospital, sweetie," she answered with a smile.

"What am I doing in-" I jerked up, not knowing I even had the energy to do so. Remembering what happened, I became anxious, causing the monitor to beep more often.

The nurse hopped to my side. "Okay," she drawled, "you need to relax a bit."

"What happened to me? Where are my parents?"

Her lips parted. but closed for a moment. "I don't know what to say to your first question. We were hoping you could actually tell us what happened. You were out for a couple of days. As for your parents, I really don't think I'm the right person to answer. Just relax and wait for a few minutes, okay? I'll come back with a couple other people," she told me. I nodded and she left.

I looked around the room, and then at my arms. The bruises were still there, but they weren't swelled up as badly. I guess I really was out for a couple of days. But what I really wanted to know was what happened after Liliana's visit. She touched my face and everything went dark, just like the time she touched my arm. Next thing I know, I'm at a hospital.

I racked my brain for answers, speculating what may or may not have happened. Before I knew it, an official looking woman and a doctor entered the room.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Moore. Nice to meet you," he stretched his hand and kept it there until I shook it.

"I'm Diane Moira," said the person behind him. "I'm an investigator for this case."

"Case? What case?" I asked.

"Well-"

Dr. Moore turned to Diane to stop her. "Now, now. Please let me check how the kid is doing first before you get to that."

Diane bowed her head slightly forward. "Of course, doctor. Please go on."

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked me.

"Thirsty, a little hungry. I'm really lightheaded right now," I answered.

"Do you feel any abnormalities? Something that you think would be of concern? Any pain?"

"No, not that I can tell. My body feels slightly sore, but it's nothing to complain about." He went on for another few minutes, asking me questions as if it was a survey. Afterwards, he told me to rest and left the room, leaving me alone with the investigator.

Diane pulled a chair next to me, clearing her throat and scribbling on her notepad before starting. She began explaining to me what happened. After a call, the police came to my house two days ago. There, they found my parents dead on the couch and me passed out in the kitchen. She asked me if I heard about the recent killing of Maryanne and Robert James. I said I did. She began writing down my answers and proceeded to tell me that my parents were killed the same way. My lack of expression made her curious.

"Do you know what happened?" she asked, "You seem to be rather unaffected by this news."

"No, I don't know," I lied. I knew it was Liliana. Killing my parents and stopping the abuse - that was what she meant when she said it wouldn't happen again. Even if I were to tell the truth, they wouldn't believe such a story. Without saying anything, I showed her my bruises.

She examined my body and sighed. "Yes, I did notice that you were quite beaten up. Was it the attacker?"

"These injuries weren't caused by whoever killed my parents," I revealed. "It was my parents who did it. So I apologize for not reacting the way you'd expect me to."

"Are you saying you're glad that your parents are gone?"

"Yes," I answered plainly. Her eyes blinked a couple of times, probably surprised. "I'm relieved that there's no one that'll hurt me again."

"I thought as much. I was hoping you weren't like the other kids."

"What do you mean?"

"While you were out, there've been a two other incidents like yours. Abused kid and dead parents, it seems that our murderer is on some kind of mission. He or she might even fancy themselves as a vigilante. As for the kids, they also said they couldn't recall anything. To be honest, I'm a little lost on where to go from here," Diane sighed out, and then stopped writing. "I have a negative view on these types of parents, a very negative view, but I don't think they deserve to die."

I felt a rush of anger, causing my right eye to twitch. "That's because you probably had parents, like real, lovable parents. Let me ask you something - when you were a kid, even younger than me, let's say eight years old, how did you see your parents?"

Diane straightened her posture and took a deep breath as she looked for the answer. "I suppose I loved them. They protected me, cared for me, and I held them in high regard. I could go to them for anything."

"That's how I wanted to feel about them. Actually, that is how I felt about them too when I was eight, despite everything they did to me before. Now try to imagine how you would feel if they started abusing you physically, verbally, mentally, while feeling how you did for them. Half the time, I was abused because of stupid reasons, and the other half didn't have any reasons. I wanted them to love me, I wanted to be protected and cared for. Instead, I got the exact opposite. All that you hoped for as a child crushed by the very people who gave you life, don't you think that's just evil and ironic? But you've never been abused, so you don't know, you can't know. It's too late for you to feel that pain, which is good. You'll never feel it and I don't want you to. You don't know the type of damage these parents can and will cause."

"I get that, but-"

"And what about Liliana James?" I blurted out. "Last I heard, there was an investigation to see whether or not it was her mom who killed her. And I bet it was."

She didn't respond to what I said and instead went back to one of her previous questions, dropping the subject. "So nothing? You don't know what happened?"

"No, I don't," I answered calmly. "I was just in the kitchen about to make a sandwich and next thing I know I'm here. I'm just as confused as you are."

She kept on with the questions for another half hour before deciding I had nothing else relevant to provide. After she left, the doctor came back. He told me to stay put for another day before leaving. He also said that my auntie, Mom's sister, visited me a couple of times while I was out, and that she would be visiting again later. She will take care of me in place of my parents, and I had nothing against that. I don't know how she was so nice, but Mom wasn't.

Later on that night, a couple hours after my auntie's visit, it became really quiet. I closed my eyes as I lied in bed, feeling at peace and falling asleep. Then, a warming sensation I've felt before enveloped the bruises on my arms. I knew it was Liliana. Instead of opening my eyes, I kept them closed and savored the comfort she gave my injuries, whispering two words before I never saw her again.

"Thank you."