 Lucy's wide-eyed gaze followed me as I walked into her room, and her thin lips twitched into a nervous little smile. Hi, Brian. She said shyly, casting her brown eyes down towards the yellow slip of paper in her hands, which she was diligently folding into a series of complex shapes. A square book full of colored paper lay next to her, and her past failures were scattered across the mattress in a colorful pile of crumpled balls. Hello, Lucy. I said cheerfully, sinking into the chair across from her bed. Is that the book your sister dropped off for you last week? Yes. She replied, chewing on her lip and concentration. Back in middle school, we both tried to learn origami together. I guess she figured I'd have more time to practice now. Well, it's good to see you picking up a hobby. Maybe you can make some decorations for the ward once the holidays roll around. She beamed down at her paper, which was slowly beginning to take the shape of a giraffe, and I glanced at my clipboard. You seem much more lively today, is the new medication helping at all. She nodded rapidly, still squinting down at her giraffe. It's much better. I feel a lot more awake now. She said, turning it around in her hands. Satisfied, she placed it gently onto the dresser next to her bed, and tore a fresh red square of paper out of the book. And you? She continued, looking up at me curiously. I blinked at her. I beg your pardon? How are you? She insisted. And unlike every other person in the world who asked that question, she seemed genuinely interested in knowing the answer. I smiled, faltering a little at the intensity of her stare. Very good. Thank you, I answered. My sister made dinner on Thursday. Did yours come to visit? She shook her head, absorbed once again in her frantic folding and creasing. No, she said quietly. Jamie went downtown to see her husband's family, but there was a little dinner here. She added with a shrug. We had turkey and potatoes and cranberry sauce. It was nice. That's good. I peeked over her hands at the piece of paper, which she had folded into a strange little triangle. What are you making now? A bird, she said simply. Would you mind postponing your bird for a moment? I'd like to continue our conversation from last week. She gingerly placed the unfinished piece of paper near her thigh then folded her hands into her lap. Her right thumb began to scratch restlessly at the edge of the bandage on her left wrist, but the rest of her body remains still. We had a conversation last week. She asked hesitantly, worry flitting across her features. I gave her an apologetic smile. I'm sorry if you don't remember. I said, you seemed unfocused. So I decided to reschedule our appointment and change your medication. She nodded slowly. I think I remember a little. Her thumbnail scratched a little harder at the bandages. What do you want to talk about? Well, I did manage to get a little out of you the last time we spoke. I replied gently. You said something and forgive me if I misunderstood you about a closet. She stiffened a little and I watched her carefully. Is that right? Yes. She whispered. Maybe you could tell me more about that. That's how it all started, actually. She said slowly, staring down at her hands. I don't remember exactly when it began, but every night I started hearing these whispers. I even asked my father to check my room a couple times, even though it made me feel like a scared little girl. But there was never anything there. Did these voices say anything to you? I asked curiously and she shook her head. No, I couldn't understand him. At first I just thought it was the house, like air rushing through the vents or something. But after a few months, I decided that they sounded way too human to be anything other than voices. One night, I woke up and my closet light was on, even though I always slept with it off. She began to chew on her lip again. That's when it started to make a little more sense. I raised my eyebrows. Why? I don't know. It just seemed right at the time. That there were whispers coming from my closet. You know how people say the only things in life are death and taxes? That's what it felt like. One of life's certainties. Death, taxes, and voices in my closet. She broke off with a frantic little giggle and I waited patiently until she'd relaxed again. But it wasn't too horrible. She continued. Once I accepted them, it was a lot easier to sleep again. It was even a little comforting sometimes. They weren't really bad whispers. They were just there and that was okay. Other than that, my life was going really well. I was working part-time as a waitress and was close to finishing my freshman year in college. That's why I was living at home. I couldn't wait tables, pay for school, and pay rent. But my grades were all right. I was never valedictorian or anything, but they weren't too bad. And there was this one customer, Kevin, who would always stop by the bar on Fridays for a couple drinks. He was really nice to me, even though I was shy. Looking back on it, I'm sure he was flirting with me the whole time. She said, flashing me a sad little smile. I think he thought I wasn't interested for a while, since I was so clueless about it. But he finally gathered up the courage to ask me out. I said, yes, of course. I was always the quiet one in high school, so I hadn't ever actually gone out on a date before. I was really excited and the first few times we went out, I had an amazing time. Did something happen? I inquired. And she shrugged, fidgeting a little. Sort of, she said softly. On our fourth date, we went to a movie and then back to his place. He had a nice little apartment a few miles away from my campus, and we picked up some ice cream and played Mario Kart all night long. He didn't even try anything. I mean, I probably wouldn't have minded if he did, but it seemed kind of sweet that he wanted to take things slow. I started getting drowsy after a while, so he let me sleep in his bed. She paused and licked her lips nervously. I woke up around 2 a.m., he was passed out next to me, and I realized that he had left his closet door open. You heard the whispers again. Yeah, she agreed, fiddling anxiously with the origami book. But they were different this time. They seemed scared or worried about something, and I could hear this thumping coming from outside his apartment door. It was probably just another tenant, but it wouldn't stop. And there was something really unsettling about it. Every time I heard it, it just felt more and more like something awful was about to happen. So I got up and got all my stuff as quietly as I could. I waited for the noise to get quieter, and went out the front door, and I just remember standing in the stairwell for ages, listening for it to make sure it was gone. A shudder traveled up her spine, and her posture tensed. It started to come back again, louder and louder, and when I looked behind me, I saw this black shape at the end of the hallway. It was too low to the floor to be a person, and it seemed small, but then it moved and I heard the thumping noise again. And then it started scuttling towards me, and I just ran as fast as I could down to my car and lock the doors once I got inside. She let out a jerky laugh, her lip quivering. It scared the life out of me when I started my car. I guess mine triggers the alarm when you start it with the doors locked. I started screaming for a few seconds until I realized what was happening. I called Kevin the next day to apologize for disappearing, and told him that it was just impossible for me to stay asleep in new places. He seemed to understand, but we kind of drifted apart after that. And everything started to get worse, she admitted. The whispers were getting louder, and sometimes I could hear the thumping noise like the shadow from the hallway had followed me home. It always kept me up, even when I locked the closet. I even started sleeping with a knife in my nightstand, just in case that thing ever learned how to open the door. Did you ever tell your parents? I asked, and she shook her head, looking morose. I couldn't bring myself to do it. They were starting to act strange around me, and I could tell they knew I was starting to lose my head. I could hear them talking about me when they thought I wasn't there. Her eyes shone bright with tears, and she stared woefully at the floor. It was the same with my coworkers and classmates. I could feel their eyes boring into my skull when I was turned around, and when they were talking with each other, sometimes they'd look over at me. I told myself I was imagining it, but I just couldn't shake that feeling. She leaned down to cover her face with her hands, and when she spoke again, her voice was muffled through her fingers. So, I was actually ecstatic when my parents asked me to watch my two-year-old sister while they went to a dinner party, because it meant they somehow still trusted me enough to be around her. You know? If you're not comfortable proceeding, we can talk more tomorrow. I began, but she lifted her head to stare at me, pleadingly. If I don't do it now, I don't think I'll ever do it. She whispered, and I paused before nodding. Um, she continued shakily. At first, it went really well. Mom always told me in Jamie that Grace was the easiest baby she ever had. We were always throwing fits when we were kids, but Grace never seemed to cry at all. She didn't even go through the terrible twos. So, I switched my shift with someone at the bar, and we just spent the whole day watching tinkerbell movies, playing hide and seek and fiddling with my makeup. She always loved getting into glittery stuff. When I tried to put her down for sleep, she was still all riled up, but I told her we could play more tomorrow. Fresh tears started streaming down her face. I went to go brush my teeth and wash my face after I tucked her in, and then I locked my closet and went to bed. It didn't take long for the whispers to start again, but I was determined to drown them out that night. I had to act normal for Grace. I thought about turning the TV on to drown it out, but I didn't want to wake her up. But then the light in my closet turned on. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into a nervous little ball. I remember just staring at it, telling myself I was imagining it, but then I heard that thumping noise louder than ever. And then, she said, clenching the material of her jeans hard with her fingers. It knocked on the door three times, really, really slowly. I grabbed the knife from my nightstand and stood up, and then the light turned itself right off. I finally convinced myself to get up and open the door, and I saw this black shape in front of the wall. She broke off and buried her face in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I felt the blood drain out of my face. I didn't see her. She finally cried out against her skin. I didn't see her until Lucy, I said, just loudly enough to be heard over her heaving sobs. It was a terrible mistake. But you needed help. Your mind had convinced itself that you were in danger. But I knew the moment I dropped the knife. She gasped. It was like like flipping a switch and and then I heard the garage door open downstairs so I she trailed off, slowly raising her left arm amidst the waves of sobs to show me the bandages. My chest suddenly felt very tight. They found us there a few minutes later. She whispered. Dad turned on the closet light. And, well, there was a lot of blood. She'd quieted down, but her shoulders were still shaking with each breath. Mom couldn't stop screaming. We sat quietly for a little while. The silence of the room punctured only by Lucy's ragged breathing as she tried to stifle her tears. Have you spoken to your parents since the incident? I asked softly. She looked up at me and shook her head. Jamie told me that they were going to visit soon, but I don't think they will. She breathed. The tremors were slowly leaving her voice, but her eyes were still wide with horror. I wouldn't blame them. I wouldn't blame them if they never wanted to see me again. They just need time, Lucy. They still love you. They shouldn't. She said, watching me sadly. Of course they should. It wasn't your fault. She looked away. Can we be done? She asked softly. Yes, I think that's enough for today. I said gently, rising to my feet. Lucy nodded jerkily and picked up her half-finished paper bird, her fingers flying into another folding frenzy. I'm sorry. I promise that it will get easier from here on out. Why don't you get some rest? Dinners in two hours and a couple of the nurses told me you haven't been sleeping well. Okay. She whispered an equivering voice. I'll try. I moved to leave, but hesitated when I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. Frowning, I turned to look at the tiny closet across from Lucy's bed. The doorway was clear and there wasn't anything inside other than a short stack of books and a small collection of board games, but the chain connected to the light bulb on the ceiling was swaying lazily.