Short Story: Part 4

Her mother ran out of the room, shutting her own bedroom door and started to weep. Likewise, the little girl, devastated at her own stupidity, threw herself down on Eliza’s bed and began to cry as well. After a while, she shut the window and retreated to her room, where she began to pray for comfort.

During her prayers she exclaimed, “I’m sorry Eliza! I’m sorry! And I’m sorry mama! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” and she began to weep again for the rest of the afternoon.

Her father had no idea what had happened and found it odd that when he came home both his wife and daughter were shut up in their rooms bellowing words of regret. Curious as to what happened, he went upstairs to figure out the problems and bring comfort to them both. He himself had gone to the Church that day and prayed. While doing so, he realized that he had been miserable since his dear Eliza died, but he had a wife and daughter to take care of still, and he needed to be strong for them.

He quietly made his way up the stairs, being extra careful not to alert either his wife or daughter of his presence. The steps up the stairs were agonizing; the sorrow that filled the house was as strong as the day Eliza had died. He still remembered how that little face was so pale but even in her death, smiling. This thought comforted him and he went to console his wife.

Meanwhile, the little girl emerged from her room, wanting to apologize to her mother for being cruel. However, she had been stalling; the pain she would feel when looking at her mother’s aging, sorrowed face would break her heart like a rock would a mirror. So, she disregarded the thought of apologizing at the moment and went back to Eliza’s room.

When she got to the room, she discovered that the door was closed and to her amazement, locked. “Mother must be really upset with me.” She said quietly, but as she was yearning for the comfort and reassurance she so needed, she heard a noise.

It was quite subtle, and if she had been moving about she wouldn’t have heard it. It was steadily growing louder, but at the same time, quieter. Overcome with fear that an intruder had entered through Eliza’s bedroom window, the little girl began banging on the door to try and scare them off. Immediately her father and mother emerged from their room, their faces pale and plastered with concern.

Her father spoke first. “My dear child, what’s the matter? You’ve given me and your mother a fright!” The little girl noticed that he was shaking all over, just like when the doctor told him that Eliza was going to die within forty-eight hours.