What was lost in the fire
“Jesus Christ!!!!” Penny coughed as the dust swirled up around her feet. She looked around the attic, wondering who would keep all this stuff lying around. Just within her field of view, she could see old boots, a mannequin in a faded black dress, and an old chest with several pairs of boots hanging out. Penny idly wondered if her grandma could be considered a hoarder as she took another step into the dusty attic. She stopped in her tracks once more as her foot slipped on something. Looking down, she found an old Barbie staring up at her, its plastic eyes dull and faded with time. The doll almost seemed to taunt her with all the memories Penny was searching for. Her grandmother insisted that her birth certificate was here, stashed and forgotten among all of this… Junk.“Come on, Penny, you can do this…” she sighed, as she braved the mess in front of her. She was looking for a yellow shoebox. All that had been left after the fire should be in there. Penny couldn’t believe that anything had escaped the fire, honestly. Still, she needed that certificate. Honestly, Penny didn’t usually consider her life before the fire. She had been eight when it happened, and the memories she had from then were vague and out of focus. It was like someone had slurred her brain, taken her life in the years before the fire, and made them unclear. She remembered bits and pieces: A loving smile from someone, the taste of bottle pop, climbing the tree in the park — only snapshots. Penny sighed as she took another step into the attic. If Penny were honest, she knew that she didn’t want to remember. She had sealed up her childhood and felt better for it. She knew that it was better to look forward, rather than back. Keep your eyes ahead. Still, she needed that certificate, and Penny knew it was up here somewhere, hidden with everything else that had escaped the fire.“Why… why even keep this?”The question went unanswered as Penny held up a single forgotten boot, desperately searching for its partner.Penny was growing more and more certain her grandmother might have a screw loose. Was this a fool’s errand? Did she even believe her grandmother had the shoebox? She had stepped over linens, searched through cabinets, and nearly made her way to the end of the pile of stuff when she finally spotted it. Perched on a high shelf, next to a salt and pepper shaker shaped like two pigs hugging, was a small yellow box weathered with age. She reached up and pulled the box down tentatively. It seemed strange to Penny that everything she had once held dear could even fit into a shoebox. It seemed to her that one’s life—even an eight-year-old’s should fill more than a pair of dress shoes. Penny tried not to wonder what kind of life she had at 8. It had been 20 years since then, still, it felt like there should be more left than what was in her scrubbed memory. The words “Elpis Footwear” were written across the lid in red letters, making Penny feel ill at ease. She stared at the box for a moment, struck by how light it felt. She had thought her heart would race or her palms would grow sweaty. Yet, her hands were steady. Her breath didn’t hitch. She just stood there, staring at the shoebox, as if it belonged to someone else. Was this really it? Was this everything left of her life from before she was eight? She glared at the box for a moment longer, feeling a small spark of hope ignite in her chest. Her grandmother had seemed confused about the investigation and doubly so when Penny mentioned that she needed her birth certificate. No matter how many times Penny explained it, she couldn’t get her grandmother to understand that she was under investigation for arson. She had to prove herself, prove that she was who she claimed to be to the police, a fact that baffled her grandmother. It had escalated into a long, bitter argument—Penny growing increasingly frustrated and her grandmother refusing to budge. And this is where it had ended—with her grandmother telling Penny that it might be in the attic in a shoebox with everything else that survived the fire. She walked over to an old armchair in the corner of the attic and sat down. A small coughing fit ensued as the chair released a century’s worth of dust upon being used. Penny’s eyes were watering by the time she stopped coughing and looked back down at the box. She could feel the tiniest flutter of Nerves in her belly. She hadn’t been this close to any part of her young years in…Well, ever. Penny held her breath as she opened the box. A stack of old papers greeted her, all of them yellowed with age and some falling apart. Her hand hovered over the top page for a while, as she built up her nerve.“Come on Penny, just… just do it.” The attic ate up her words, leaving an oppressive silence behind.She lingered, watching dust motes swirl in the light. She had sworn to herself that she was ready for this, but now that she was confronted with her past, Penny didn’t know if she could handle it. Penny took a deep breath and stared down at the box again. This was it. She let out a huff of air as she picked up the first piece of paper and started her journey. “Oh…” A small smile crept onto Penny’s face at the sight of the first memory from the box. She was holding an old, crumpled piece of paper with a crude drawing in the middle. Crayons smudged the edges of the page where young Penny had been careless with her coloring, but the real star of the show was in the subjects of the drawing. Two people were grinning up at her from the drawing. On one side was Penny herself, drawn with rough lines, barely more than a stick figure. She had drawn her hair in two braids, the way the Governess always had her style it. Next to her, in equally rushed lines, was her Governess. Penny smiled to herself at the way she had drawn her Governess all those years ago. She still didn’t really understand the uniform her Governess always wore. A black floor-length dress was cut in half by a small apron. Her hair was almost always up in a bun, and she wore a large cross around her neck. The dress never seemed to change, crease, or stain. It was always the same black dress and white apron, immaculately clean. The fall sun fell through the window above Penny’s head and landed on her cheek. The warmth of the moment brought Penny back to the day she had drawn that picture. She could suddenly feel the summer sun on her skin, the light summer dress against her body, the soft grass beneath her. Penny was suddenly six years old again. It was a sweltering day in the park just outside her apartment. The towering grey buildings rose up all around her, blank windows staring down at the two of them. She was sitting on the lawn in the shade of an old willow tree, her notebook in front of her and her crayon in hand.Penny looked up at the Governess and smiled. The Governess was still dressed in her severe outfit despite the summer heat. “This… This was just after my mom hired her, right?” The voice rang out through the attic, returning Penny’s question to her. Penny looked up, trying to remember. Somehow, the Governess seemed to have been there forever, but thinking back, this would have been around the time her mother hired her. Penny looked back down at the picture and, for a moment, lost herself in the memory trapped there.Penny’s smile mirrored the one she had drawn in her picture. This was a happy memory. This little girl had her mom, she had her Governess, and she had her entire life in front of her. Somehow, this drawing returned to Penny all of the happiness she associated with childhood. The childhood as it should have been. The smile was still playing on her lips as Penny put the first drawing aside and placed it on top of a stack of newspapers to her right. The next item in the box was a small Polaroid picture, lying face down. Penny vaguely remembered the Polaroid camera she had gotten for her 6th birthday from her grandma. She knew her grandma had wanted her to have every moment of her childhood documented, which seemed more than a little ironic, given the situation Penny found herself in now. At least her grandma had kept this box of stuff. Penny turned the Polaroid over and stared at it for a while. It didn’t show anything… well, nothing important. It was a picture of the dirty linoleum flooring. Penny recognised it as the kitchen floor, by the pattern on the tiles and the scattering of Cigarette buds in the corner of the shot. In the background, you could just make out the outline of their couch and the TV, still on.“Oh…” Penny clasped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late, the memory game unbidden. She was standing in the kitchen, fiddling with her camera. She had dropped it a couple of weeks earlier, and it had stopped taking pictures. She’d cried about it at the time, but her mom hadn’t done anything about it.Penny had barely let the camera out of her sight after that, always hoping it would fix itself. Dreary morning clouds hung outside the window like a blanket over the entire world, telling Penny that today would be a quiet day. It was always a quiet day when her mom was hungover. “Ahhh…” A squeal escaped Penny’s lips as she hit a button, and the Camera’s flash suddenly went off. Penny dropped the Camera, where it clattered on the floor, louder than it had any right to be.There was an awful moment when Penny just stood there as the camera started whirring as it released its picture. Her mother, who had been lounging on the sofa, stirred at the racket. She got up from the couch and stared around the room, tired eyes barely registering what was going on. Penny noticed the bottle hanging limp in one of her mother’s hands, the cigarette in her mouth that had burned out, and knew she was in trouble. “Mom, I’m sorry… I didn’t…” Penny whimpered, but her mother just stood there, staring into the room, focusing on nothing in particular. Penny found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move, as her mom took a couple of shaky steps into the room, still not looking at her. The blow came out of nowhere. Penny didn’t even register that it had happened until she was suddenly on the floor. She looked up at her mom, who was just glaring back at her, barely conscious. Her mom muttered something before returning her attention to the couch and the TV beyond. Penny had no idea how long she lay there, staring at the back of the couch. She just lay there, letting silent tears pool beneath her cheek. She could already feel the large welt starting to form. How was she going to explain this one away? Had she walked into a door? Fallen down the stairs? Maybe she’d used those excuses before? Maybe, if she just didn’t go to school, no one would ask questions… She lay there for so long that she eventually fell asleep. It was dark when she woke up some hours later. The TV was off, and her mom was gone. Penny had just gotten up and started to make her way to her bedroom when she stepped on something. She bent down and picked it up. The image seemed somehow cursed as she stood in the dark, barely able to make it out. A sudden drop landed on the Polaroid that Penny was holding, and she looked up. She was alone in the attic, and the dull grey light hadn’t changed. She looked up, trying to spot the leak that had let a drop fall on her memory. Another drop landed on the picture, and Penny suddenly realized it wasn’t coming from outside—it was coming from her. She angrily wiped at her cheek, annoyed with herself for getting upset at the memory. Her mom had been gone for ages and… and she wasn’t up here to find answers about her.She was here to find her damn birth certificate and… and she would. Penny stared down at the box in her hands for another moment, no longer sure what to make of it. The box no longer felt like a curiosity, but a threat. She had only had it back in her life for a couple of moments, and it had already proven to be more than she could handle. “Maybe I could just…” Penny said to no one in particular, glaring around the moldy attic. “Maybe I could just leave it here.” Her words hung in the air, waiting for a response that never came. “Maybe I don’t need to find it.” A long moment passed as Penny sat there, unable to let the shoebox go. She knew that she should just get up and walk away. There was a life out there for her—one she could rejoin. She didn’t need to sit in solitude, vacantly gazing at memories long gone. A small movement caught her eye, and Penny looked down. The Polaroid had slipped from her hand and landed on the floor. She stared at the imprint the falling photo had left in the dust at her feet. Her childhood lay there too, lost in the dust, abandoned. She wasn’t allowed to talk about it, not with anyone. Her childhood had become the large, unspoken thing that hung between her and her grandmother. The fire had become the dividing line, the thing that separated her old life from her new one. In fact, it hung between her and the rest of the world. She had left part of herself behind in the past and locked the door—and now she couldn’t find the key. But someone did know about her childhood. Like a memory long forgotten, the fire had resurfaced, and she was now under investigation. It had been years, but she finally had to answer for something… Something she couldn’t remember. Her Governess might, though. Her governess could have the answers—the key to that locked door. If only she could remember enough about the woman to contact her: a name, a defining feature, a mention of where she lived. Anything that could bring her back. Penny stared back down at the box, resolve hardening in her chest. She was going to do this, even if some of the memories she unearthed were less than pleasant. After all, her mom was gone—she couldn’t hurt her now. “Oh god…” A smile spread across Penny’s face as she held up the small slip of paper that rested on top of the pile of memories in the box. The text was faded around the edges, but she could still make out the small handwriting in the center. It read: “P – 13, G – 0.” The smile on Penny’s face grew wider as she remembered how petty she had been as a kid. She and the Governess would play hide and seek, and Penny would keep score—like the pedantic little brat she had been. Looking back, she was pretty sure the Governess had let her win. Still, it was good to think back on the good times. What made it more ridiculous was the fact that the Governess always let Penny hide, while she did the seeking. Penny couldn’t remember the Governess ever hiding—not even once. She would even go out of her way to praise Penny for finding particularly inventive hiding spots.Holding the paper made the memories come flooding back. Her, giggling in a linen closet or under her mom’s bed, while the Governess walked around calling out to her. Her crouching behind laundry baskets and in kitchen closets, hearing the Governess stomping around, frustrated that she couldn’t find her. There was always something sinister about this log play session, now that Penny thinks back. Her, but herself, with no one but her Governess for company. On those long days, they would play all kinds of games, but the ones that the Governess liked the best were the mean ones. Throwing things out the window, or planning ways that Penny could mess with her mom. She never did mess with her mom, of course, Penny knew what that would lead to, but the planning. The planning was intense.Still, hide and seek was her favourite. Penny let out a small noise as a memory rushed back into her mind, unbidden and unwelcome.She was six years old, playing hide and seek with the Governess. The late afternoon sun was roasting the linoleum in front of her hiding spot, making the kitchen cabinet she had crouched in uncomfortably hot.She and the governess had been playing with marbles just outside of her mom’s room when the governess suddenly stopped in her tracks. “I have a new game,” The governess exclaimed, a strange urgency to her voice. Penny looked up at her, slightly annoyed, and she had had fun with the marbles. “Can we just play a little while longer?” Penny asked, staring at a particularly pretty pink marble. “No, Penny. I promise it’ll be fun.” The Governess glares at the marbles again and then back at Penny. “It’ll be great.” There was a darkness to her tone as she led Penny away from the marbles. Penny was getting uncomfortable as she waited in the cabinet, wishing The Governess would start the game already. The Governess had just called out, “Here I come,” when Penny heard someone at the door. “Oh, no…” Penny squeaked—and then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, startled by the sound.She knew her mother was at the door. And from the sound of her steps on the entry carpet, Penny could tell she was mad. “Penny!…” Her mom’s voice rang out across the apartment. Penny said nothing. She stayed crouched in the cabinet, hoping not to be noticed. An old bottle of cooking oil was pressed into her back, and she was sitting in something slick. Still, she didn’t move. She could see part of the kitchen through a narrow slit in the cabinet door. “Penny…” Her mother’s voice was growing increasingly frustrated, making Penny’s heart race. Penny knew this mood. She knew it all too well. This was the bad mom—the one who hit or yelled. The one who told Penny how worthless she was, how she had ruined her life. This was the mom who wouldn’t stop until Penny cried out… and sometimes not even then. This was the way Mom had been ever since she lost her job. “Penny, I swear to God…” Her mother’s footsteps grew closer, and Penny’s breath hitched in her throat.She was getting closer. Penny was certain she’d be found. Her mom would open the cabinet, and there would be hell to pay. Penny was just about to open the cabinet door and give herself up. Maybe if she apologized, if she said she’d just been reading, maybe her mom wouldn’t be that mean. Maybe she could get away with just a spanking. Maybe it would be okay. Her hand was on the cabinet door when the Governess’s face blocked what little sunlight streamed in through the slit. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at Penny for a moment, then slowly shook her head. Penny stared back, transfixed by those steely blue eyes. And then the Governess was gone. “Penny, you better be here!” her mom slurred as she got closer. Penny could smell the acrid smoke wafting from her mother’s cigarette as her feet came into view. She clasped her hands over her mouth, willing herself not to let out a single sound. They stayed like that for a long time, her mom and her—almost as if waiting one another out. Penny was almost certain that she had been found when her mom turned around and headed into the hall. Penny listened to the heavy footfalls as her mother moved down the hall, still searching. A sudden crash and squeal brought Penny up short. It sounded like something bad. Penny stayed in her cabinet, not daring to move, her heart pounding out of her chest. She stayed like that for too long, until the Governess suddenly appeared once again. Through the slit in the cabinet door, Penny could see a wicked grin stretch across the Governess’s face. It seemed almost cruel to Penny. “You can come out now,” the Governess grinned. Penny touched the cabinet door gingerly, listening to the squeal of the hinges as they slowly turned. Her body ached, and she had the uncontrollable urge to stretch as she finally released herself from the cabinet.“Is… is it safe?” Penny whispered to her still-grinning Governess. “Aye, it is,” the Governess confirmed, unbridled glee lacing her words. Penny still walked on tiptoe, not daring to believe that her mom was no longer angry, as she stepped into the hall, followed by her Governess. Her mother was lying in the doorway in front of her room, a broken armoire next to her. Penny stared at her mother, who seemed to be asleep, not sure what to do. The heavy rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she wasn’t dead. Penny looked down at her mother’s feet, only to see marbles resting there. “We need to clean those up,” the Governess hissed as she noticed Penny staring. “Is she OK?” Penny hissed back, still unable to speak properly. “She’ll be grand,” the Governess assured her. Penny did as she was told, cleaning up the marbles, making sure not to get too close to her fallen mom in the process. She spent the rest of the day in her room, hoping beyond hope that her mom was OK.A long moment passed where Penny just sat, staring out into the attic. A shiver ran down her spine, and she drew her arms around herself. It was getting colder as the day wore on. Her Mom woke up the next morning without any memory of the marbles and nursing the mother of all hangovers. Penny realized she had dodged a bullet. But at the time, all she had felt was deep shame.Penny stared down at the box in her lap, the shame rearing its ugly head again. She knew she needed to go through it, but she wasn’t sure these were memories she wanted back. A sigh escaped her as she let the Box draw her back in. She could do this, she knew she could. She had lived through all of it once; she just needed to buck up. Her mom was gone. She couldn’t hurt her anymore. She just needed to find that damned certificate and then she could get out of here. All she needed was to clear her name. It took a lot of effort, but Penny finally looked down at the box in her lap. She was surprised to find it almost empty. There were fewer memories here than she had expected. “Hah…” Penny’s short laugh rang out through the attic as she picked up the next piece of scrap.It was a wrapper for a chocolate bar called Starway. They didn’t sell those anymore, and Penny had honestly forgotten about them. She used to love them, though. The wrapper had faded with time, and there was a smudge on the bottom right-hand corner, but the memory of the sweet, chocolatey taste seemed to fill her mouth with saliva. How had she ever forgotten about this treat? “Penny…” Penny looked up, suddenly hyper-aware. Someone had said her name. She stared around the attic, trying to find the source of the voice, but she couldn’t. Still, she was sure she’d heard it. “Penny…” The voice came again, closer this time. What was going on? Penny felt a chill run down her body. She didn’t like this. “Penny!” The Governess said her name sternly, but not without kindness. Penny looked around. She was seven years old, standing in the empty parking lot of a grocery store. The streetlight bathed the vacant space in an eerie glow, and the stairs overhead added to the effect. The Governess stood a few meters in front of her, giving her one of those looks. “What is it?” Penny asked, trying her best to sound innocent. “This is important, Penny. I need you to pay attention,” the Governess chided, her stern expression softening into something gentler. Penny had no idea what she was doing out here with the Governess, but she trusted her. They had been alone in the house for a couple of days, and it had been nice. It was always nice when Mom wasn’t home—no one there to scream at her. But Penny’s stomach had started acting up after the last of the food had gone. She spent an entire day clutching her belly and crying, while the Governess stroked her hair and told her it would be okay. The Governess had seemed different the next morning. Penny was still miserable, but the Governess had told her to drink water—because the two of them were going out that night. They had waited until dark, until the neighbors were in bed. Then she had told Penny to put on her jacket and follow her. They walked for what felt like hours until they found themselves in this parking lot. Penny still had no idea why they were here. “It’s just a little longer,” the Governess promised, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Okay,” Penny said, as her stomach gave another growl. She didn’t know how much longer she could go on like this, but she followed the only person she truly loved, as she turned the corner of the building. “Get that box over there,” the Governess said the moment Penny rounded the corner. Penny obeyed, dragging a milk crate over to where the Governess stood by a row of dumpsters. Penny knew better than to question an adult, but she couldn’t help feeling confused. Why were they here? What did the Governess want in a dumpster? “Get on the crate and open this,” the Governess ordered. Penny climbed up and lifted the heavy lid. “Oh…” Penny clasped her hands over her mouth as she stared into the dumpster. There was so much food. All kinds. She saw packaged meat, a head of cabbage, and—Her eyes watered. A Starway bar lay near the top. The wrapper had a tear, and she could see the chocolate peeking out. She lost all self-control, snatched it up, and tore off the rest of the wrapping. She had never tasted anything so fine—so sweet, so delicious. She couldn’t stop her eyes from watering as the chocolate melted in her mouth. Her tears hit the ground. Her sobs filled the empty night air. But she kept chewing. The chocolate was gone far too soon. She stuffed the wrapper in her pocket and looked up at her guardian. Was this what the Governess wanted to show her? This secret wealth of food? A huge grin stretched across Penny’s face as she looked at the kind expression of her one friend. She wanted so badly to hug her—but she knew she couldn’t. “Take as much as you can carry, and let’s get home,” the Governess said, still grinning. A crinkling sound brought Penny back to the present. She looked down to find she was crumpling the old wrapper in her hand. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers, letting the faded scrap fall to the attic floor. How had she forgotten this? How could she ever? After that night, the Governess had taught her how to cook. She showed her how to turn on the old gas stove, how to prepare the meat, how to make sure it hadn’t gone bad, and how to hide all the evidence of their nighttime excursions from her mom. The two of them would go out each night that her mother was passed out, or when she didn’t come home. Her Governess always made sure that it remained their secret, that her mom never found out. However, as this became a somewhat normal occurrence, something shifted in the Governess. There was an edge to her on the nights that Penny and she went out. A discontent that Penny couldn’t understand at 7.Looking back, Penny thought she finally understood it. No child should have to live like that. No child should have to provide for themselves like that. Penny remembered the fish, too. She hadn’t wanted to bring it home; it stank and it was all slimy. She held it at arm’s length the entire walk home, but her Governess had insisted the way she sometimes did. There was an edge to that insistence on this night, a sly smile that was playing at the edge of her mouth. But Penny trusted her, so she had brought the fish home. Her governess has shown her how to prepare the fish, so that it no longer smelled, frying it up over the open fire of the stove. The two of them stood in the kitchen, making the fish palatable, while her mom slept off her blackout on the couch a few meters away. Her Governess had been very particular in the ways that Penny was supposed to put in the fridge, using Mom’s favourite bit of Tupperware to conceal it. Penny didn’t question it; she never did. Even when her governess had instructed her to put the fish at the very front of the fridge, where her mom was sure to find it when she woke up from her bender.Penny had woken up the next day to the sound of her mom retching in the bathroom. This was nothing new, her mom would often spend the morning throwing up after one of her nights.Still, this particular illness lasted days. It wasn’t until she found the empty bit of Tupperware on the floor next to the ashtray on the floor of the living room that Penny understood what had happened. Her Governess hadn’t ever talked about what the two of them had done to her Mom, but Penny would sometimes catch that sly smile creep back onto her lips as the two of them made their nightly treks to the dumpsters. Penny looked out over the attic again. She wished desperately that she could find her Governess and tell her how much she had meant to that starving child. She knew this wasn’t why she was up here, but… All these memories… A newfound urgency laced Penny’s movements as she dug into the shoebox, willing herself to find more evidence of this woman. The birth certificate could wait. Her Governess must be out there somewhere, as desperate to find Penny as Penny was to find her. “Fuck!” Penny’s voice rang out. A piece of paper tumbled to the ground in front of her as Penny withdrew her hand. It was almost as if the paper had given her an electric shock. She stared at the faded yellow piece of paper on the floor for a long time, unable to take her eyes off it.The faded word “Urgent” was stamped across the top in letters that might once have been red. Something about the word made Penny feel small. Small droplets of dried blood could be spotted around the edges of the paper, and even though the text was faded, she could recite the rest of the letter from memory. Penny sat there, frozen for a moment longer, hoping that she didn’t have to relive this. This was one memory she could be without, one that she didn’t want to return to. However, her exhausted mind had other plans, and no matter how much she fought it, Penny found herself traveling back to that horrible day. Penny was sitting in her room, playing with two dolls, neither of which still had all their parts. She wanted to be outside, but the rain was pummeling the window, making any play impossible. Her mom was home for a change, which made all of this much worse. Penny was trying to be as quiet as she could, but her dolls were having an excited conversation that she was too caught up in to care. “Penelope Locke.” Penny’s blood froze. Her mom’s voice cut through the apartment with surgical precision. “Penelope Locke, would you care to explain this?” Penny had no idea what her mom was referring to, but it couldn’t be good. Her mom rarely called her by her full name—in fact, her mom rarely acknowledged that she existed at all. This had to be bad. Penny looked over to her bed, wondering if she was going to have time to hide under there. Maybe, if she ran, she’d be able to hide in her closet? It was too late. She could hear her mom walking down the hallway to her room, muttering Penny’s name under her breath. This was bad… This was really, really bad. Penny didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where to go. So she was still sitting in the center of the room, holding her old dolls, when her mom barged into the room. “Penelope, there you are,” her mom hissed, as she stared at Penny. “Care to explain this?” Her mom threw a folded piece of paper at Penny, who shielded her face, afraid it would hit her. The paper landed in front of Penny, unfolded enough for her to see what it said. Dear Mrs. Locke, As you have probably been informed, your daughter Penelope has not attended school for the last 3 months. We have tried calling, but we have been unable to get hold of you. We regret to inform you that this behavior is quite serious, and we have been forced to contact child protective services. An agent will contact you to set up a visit at your earliest convenience. Regards,Superintendent Epimetheus Penny stared at the note for a moment longer, not sure what this meant. The superintendent of her school was writing? Why? Penny couldn’t even remember the last time she had been to school. The Governess didn’t seem to think it was important, so neither did Penny. She looked up at her mom, not sure what to say. Penny almost recoiled at the look she found there. She saw nothing but pure hatred there. Her pupils had gone black, and her breathing came in harsh rasps.“You… You ungrateful…” The words left her mother’s lips in fits and starts, as though she were unable to contain her rage long enough to finish the sentence. Penny’s stomach dropped. She knew what this meant, and she had to get out. Panic gripped her heart as Penny started running for the door. She didn’t get far before her mom caught her by the scruff of the shirt. “Ahh…” Penny clasped her hands over her mouth as she stared down at the note on the dusty attic floor.She had completely forgotten about that day. How could she forget about it? Thinking back, she could remember each blow, each curse, each foul accusation that her mom had thrown her way. They washed over her, threatening to drown her. This is what Penny wanted—she wanted to remember—but sitting there, in the cold autumn light, she wished she had never gone up here. Wasn’t it a mercy to forget? To never have to relive her mom’s cruel words, her hand on Penny’s body?Another memory grabbed Penny and pulled her back under. Penny was lying on the floor of her room, staring at the piece of paper. She had chipped a tooth, a small pool of blood had pooled on the floor from her split lip, and she had no idea how she would ever explain this many bruises away? Oh, what did it matter? She wasn’t gonna go back to school anyway, and that was the only place she ever had to make excuses anyway. Her Governess stepped into the room. Penny could see the sway of her long skirt, but she didn’t look up.She had done nothing. She hadn’t intervened. She hadn’t tried to help. She was there, and she did nothing. She just let it happen. Penny had never experienced hate until this day. She hated her Governess. She hated her for not helping. She hated her for standing by. And she hated herself for not daring to look her Governess in the eye. All Penny could do was stare at the swaying skirt of the friend she had just lost. “Penny.” Her Governess’s voice was filled with sadness, but Penny didn’t respond. The two of them stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, her Governess left, and Penny was alone in her room again, staring at the note on the floor in front of her. Penny let the piece of paper stay on the attic floor as she returned her attention to the shoebox. It was almost empty. Penny looked out into the attic for a moment, trying to build up her courage. There wasn’t much left—she knew that. She had come up here looking for a birth certificate, but that didn’t seem to be what she had found. She wondered, just for a moment, if her grandmother had been right. Maybe it would’ve been better if she had just left this place behind. Maybe she should never have come up here? Maybe these memories were better left in the past? The shoebox in her lap felt infinitely lighter than it had when she first found it, and yet the heaviness of what it held couldn’t be understated. Penny knew she could drag this out as long as she wanted, but eventually, she would have to look down. There was no way around it. She had come here to confront her past—only now did she truly understand that. She had come here to look herself in the eye and understand what had happened. Penny let out a deep sigh and stared down into the shoebox. It was empty. Penny’s eyes widened at the bare barrenness of the box, unsure of what she was seeing. This couldn’t be right. There had to be more. But the box held nothing. Her heart quickened as she realized she might be finished. This couldn’t be it. She had illuminated her last memory, and it was… it couldn’t just be the note from her school. That couldn’t be the final thing her Governess left her with. Not even her damn Birth certificate was left. Penny tore through the shoebox, breath quickening as dread settled in her chest, but there was nothing there. The emptiness seemed to mock her. It whispered, this is all you get. Her heart quickened as she turned the box upside down, tapped it against the chair, banged it on the floor—anything she could think of to knock another memory loose. Nothing came out. Frustrated, Penny threw the shoebox across the room, tears beginning to sting her eyes. Had this all been for nothing? She curled in on herself, letting the tears flow freely. It wasn’t fair. None of it. She had come up here hoping to find her birth certificate, and not even that was left. The only thing she had received were memories of the cruel, neglectful woman who had birthed her, swirling through her skull, carving tracks into her personality. Penny glared at the empty shoebox, which had landed against a chest of drawers on the far side of the attic. She felt the irrational urge to go over and stomp on the thing. She was just about to do it; when she noticed something. “What the…” Penny let the expletive hang in the air as she got up from her chair. She walked over to the shoebox and knelt down, picking up a small scrap of paper that had been resting just beneath it. A matchbox. Penny turned it over in her hand. The matchbox was one of those thin cardboard ones you get as promotions from restaurants or hotels. This one read Elpis Inn, which meant nothing to Penny. “Oh fuck…” Her eyes widened as another memory came rushing in. Penny was lying in her bed, curled into a ball. The rain was still hammering at her window, making the space feel claustrophobic. She hadn’t been to school, she hadn’t eaten in days—in fact, she hadn’t left her room in far too long. Neither her mom nor the Governess had come to see her. She had been alone, left to feel each bruise and cut as she slowly healed. She saw no way out, no relief. Everything was beyond her control. The school wanted her, her mom wanted to be left alone, and the one person who was supposed to be on her side had betrayed her. There was nothing left for her in this world, so why bother? Why bother with anything? “Penny?” The voice sounded like the rain hitting her window. Penny didn’t reply. “Penny, please…” The pleading was unmistakable, a call beyond herself. Penny wasn’t sure where the sound was coming from, but she knew the voice. Her Governess was trying to reach her, trying to help her. Penny wanted to shut her out. She hadn’t been there for her. She had let her mom do all those horrible things. “Penny…” The voice was getting stronger. Penny licked her smashed lips, trying to remind herself how much she hated the Governess. How she despised the woman for abandoning her. “Penny…” It was no use. The Governess was the one person Penny could count on, and years of love did not disappear overnight. Penny groaned as she sat up in bed. She would confront the Governess. Scream at her for abandoning her. She would make her leave. This would be the last time she ever saw her. “Penny…” On her feet now, Penny could hear the sound coming from just beyond her room. She walked to the door, building up the courage to scream at the Governess. She would let her have it. She would not allow her to leave without giving her a piece of her mind. “Penny!” All her resolve evaporated as she opened the door and saw her Governess standing there. A sad look was etched into the fine lines of her Governess’ face. Penny so desperately wanted to embrace this woman, but she knew she couldn’t. So the two of them just stood there, staring at one another. “Penny…” The Governess looked down at Penny with a small smile on her face. Penny grinned back up at her, unable to help herself. “Penny, I need you to trust me.” Penny was taken aback by the harshness in her voice. The Governess was sometimes silly, sometimes stern—but never harsh. Never like this. Penny looked up at her, seeing the expression on her face change. There was cunning there, and something Penny couldn’t quite make sense of. Cruelty? A smile crept its way onto the Governess’s face. One that felt too wide, as though her mouth stretched beyond the borders of her lips and encompassed her entire face. Penny took a step back, unsettled by the person in front of her. She didn’t like what was happening. She had never seen her Governess like this, and she didn’t… she didn’t care for it. The Governess seemed to notice Penny’s apprehension because the smile abruptly vanished, replaced by a look of concern. “Penny, do you trust me?” Something about the question made Penny pause. It felt important that she answer correctly, honestly. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but she knew this was a turning point—an important moment.Penny nodded slowly. The smile returned to the Governess’s face, but this time it was less wicked and more patient. She knelt down and put her mouth to Penny’s ear. Penny stood there impassively as the Governess fed her instructions. Penny turned her head reflexively, almost certain that she could still feel the Governess’s soft breath against her ear. But when she turned, she found herself alone again in the attic. She looked around, suddenly sure that she was no longer alone. She could almost feel a presence in the attic with her. Looking around, though, revealed no one. Penny was by herself. Then, something moved. Penny’s attention was drawn back to the matchbook, which seemed to have stirred. She was about to get up when she was suddenly drawn back into her memories. She was standing by the old gas stove, turning each of the burners to max. Her mom was lying on the couch, illuminated by the TV. Penny had already checked—she was fast asleep. A cigarette butt had burned out between her fingers and a matchbook on the floor in front of herPenny opened the oven door and turned that on as well. Her Governess had said this was important, though Penny had no idea why. She went into her room and gathered up the few things that were important to her, stuffing them into an old shoebox. She was surprised by how few things she cared about. She was heading out the door when she noticed the letter from the school, still lying on the floor where her mom had thrown it. She scooped it up and added it to her pile of things, not completely sure why. Then she walked out of her room, out of the hall, and out of the apartment, making sure to shut the door tight behind her. She went down and sat on the stoop, under the awning, shielding herself from the rain. Her Governess came to sit next to her after a while, and together they waited. Penny had no idea how long she had waited there. It could have been hours. People walked past, getting in and out of the building. None of them bothered her. Most were used to seeing Penny by herself. The rain kept on bearing down. Penny wished she could go back up to the apartment or go out to play. She wished she could do something to deal with this boredom, but her Governess had been quite strict. She was supposed to wait here. The explosion sent a shudder through Penny. Her heart leapt, and for a moment, she seemed to exist outside of time. The moment stretched into infinity as Penny’s world crumbled. All that she knew ceased to exist and was replaced by uncertainty. Penny closed her eyes and folded in on herself, trying to shut out the world around her, as the explosion gave way to wails and screams of agitation. She could feel her Governess’s presence nearby, trying to comfort her.Deep down, Penny knew what this meant. She knew that there was no more home. Somewhere beneath all her fear and uncertainty, she understood: the nightmare was over. How long she stayed like that, Penny couldn’t say. But eventually, she looked up. When she did, she found that it was not her Governess’s hand resting on her back, but that of a firefighter. “Honey, are you OK?” His voice was deep and reassuring, but Penny barely noticed. She looked around frantically, trying to find her Governess—but she was nowhere to be seen. That was the last time she ever saw her Governess—but far from the last time she thought of her.Penny thought of her all the time, as her life moved on: when attending her mom’s funeral, where everyone agreed it had been a horrible accident; when she moved in with her grandmother, who would be better for her in the long run; even after she started at a new school. Her Governess had left her behind—and now, sitting here in the dusty attic, Penny thought of her again.She looked up and stared at the dust swirling in the shaft of light cast by the one window overhead.She could no longer say who this woman truly was, how she had entered her life, or how she had left. But she could still see the gray building where she had lived with her mom, where people were packed in, waiting for their lives to get better. But she had changed her life irrevocably. Penny stared around the attic for a second longer, all of a sudden sure that there was no birth certificate up here. However, the answers she had been waiting up here for her, for 20 years. Penny had saved herself with the help of a woman to whom she owed her eternal gratitude. Penny had no idea how this explanation would go over with the investigators, but she didn’t really care. She had been saved, and for that Penny would be forever grateful. Credit: Sylvester Hansen Wattpad Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.