Quoted By:
"...She's in bed."
Upstairs, then. "Have you checked on her?"
"She doesn't want to be checked on," Lottie mumbles.
Ah. Yes. "So it's just you and Mommy? Aunt Ruby isn't—"
"And Daddy. You forgot Daddy."
You forgot him. Yes, you did. "I'm— I'm sorry. Is he here?"
She tugs at her hair.
"Have you seen him? Is he taking care of you?"
"He always takes care of me," she says.
You pinch your lips together. "Okay, but <span class="mu-i">is</span> he? Is he in the house?"
More hair-tugging. She hooks her finger around a curl and pulls it down, then lets it go, then pulls it down. You take a deep breath. "He is, isn't he?"
You imagine the hair sounds like this: <span class="mu-i">sproing.</span>
"Did he... leave you?"
Her lip twitches; her brow furrows. An open book. "Let me guess," you press on. "Did he go underground? Did he take the secret passages? And he wouldn't let you come with?"
Sproing! Lottie sits up, eyes gigantic again. "How did you <span class="mu-i">know</span> that?"
Because you can't have a father. Because you don't deserve one. Because that's where he was when you killed him, you're sure of it. You're probably killing him down there right now. "Because I am you? Did you forget? You can't hide secrets from me when I know them all already."
"Ohh! Sorry. Umm, he— he did. He did what you said."
"And why didn't you follow him?" Because you would've.
"Because there was a door!" She pouts. "And he locked it really tight! I couldn't— I tried to kick it down, but it had a lot of keyholes."
"Keyholes?"
"Yeah! But I— I found a key." Lottie rummages around in her pocket, the one you made Aunt Ruby sew on, and deposits a small iron key onto the table. "It was inside the book."
You pick up the key, which remains cold and resolutely keylike in your hand. "And it fit the keyholes?"
"One of them. None of the rest." She sighs. "But he'll come back, so... I need to stay happy!"
"That's what Mommy says?"
"Yeah! And I am, so don't tell her I'm not."
"I won't." You twiddle the key. "I'll help you find the rest of these."
"You will?!"
How could you not? She couldn't have given you a more obvious prompt. The entire scenario isn't real, of course. You know those tunnels backwards and forwards, and there's no such door, same as there's no such book. But maybe that's part of the punishment, having to jump through hoops to receive it. Or maybe the punishment's this: having to look Lottie in her dumb bright eyes and pretend, over and over, that you're worthy of her trust. Maybe you'll tell her what you did. You haven't decided. But you can't, not now, not yet. "Yes."
She wiggles in her seat, then hops out of it, scurrying over to you. She looks up at you expectantly. "What?" you say.
She hugs you. Ah. "Lottie," you say gingerly, "you shouldn't touch strangers so—"
"You're not a stranger," she counters, but pulls away after a few more seconds. "Now?"
"Huh?"
"You'll start now?"
(2/3)
