The sirens blared around the corner. Men jumped off the big, red truck. Hoses uncoiled, water surging, boots tromping. The fire raged inconsolably, fed by stacks of books and gallons of gasoline.

They did not see her lying there in the dark. They shouted and ran and shook their heads, trying to tame the flame. The crunch of their boots rose above the roar for a moment, shattering the porcelain. Only a brief pause to notice its passing, but the little girl in the bushes screamed once and was gone.

She stares at its cold white face, full now, but hiding again soon enough. Forever changing and yet always the same. It never turns from her, even when it is dark. Inconstant and yet utterly reliable. It stares back at her, illuminating her face with its borrowed light. Unfeeling and distant it brings comfort in the night.

“Out.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Wanted to be alone.”

“You know that’s dangerous.”

“So you say.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

“Whatever.  You’re scared of everyone.”

“I…Wait. Where did you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“You went into the city to drink.”

“Maybe.  I get thirsty.”

“They could have seen you.  They could kill you for that.”

“They didn’t.  They won’t.  No one will even know I was there.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“It’s not about you.  Not everything is about you.”

“Do you want to die?  Is that it?  I could kill you myself.”

“No.  You couldn’t.  You never could.  You hate me to much.”

“I love you.”

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“I dunno.”

“Is it dead?”

“I think it’s still moving.”

“Don’t poke it.”

“Just checking.”

“Leave it alone.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait.  I think it’s just hurt.”

“What’re you gonna do? Fix it?”

“We could take it home.  Feed it.”

“No, it’s gross.  Leave it to finish dying.”

“We could save it.”

“It doesn’t have any skin left, just forget it.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“You’ll just make it suffer longer.”

“We can help it.  Please?”

“Kill it, the only help it needs is in dying.”

“Where do you think you are?”

“I was at home, sleeping.”

“You aren’t now.”

“No, the cinnamon is gone and the blankets are too heavy.”

“I brought you here.  Thought you would be safer.  It will be dawn soon.”

“I have to go.  They’ll be worried.”

“Worse if you walked outside.”

“You said… No!”

“Afraid so.”

“But…”

“I had to.  They were going to kill you.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“They don’t trust you.”

“I… but… You said…”

“I know.”

“You lied to me.”

“No.  I was wrong.”

“I didn’t want this.”

“I’m sorry.  I truly am.”

“Sam. Who are you?”

“Brian.”

“Where are we?”

“The attic.”

“Who are they?”

“Nobody.  They’re just there.  All the time.  They don’t say anything.”

“What are they doing?”

“Watching us.  See what we do.”

“Is that door locked?”

“Yes.  Locked and barred.  Windows, too.  No way out.”

“What’ll we do?”

“Nothing.  For a while.  Just relax.”

“Then what?”

“You’ll get hungry.”

“What’s to eat?”

“Nothing.  They won’t feed us.”

“Oh.”

The rough bark caught the light cotton of her dress. The sticky sap clung to her fingers and toes.  Twigs snared her hair and scratcher her bare arms. Leaves brushed her face like butterflies.  She climbed higher still, breathing in the deep earthy scent tinged with sweetness. The leaves rustled in the light wind, whispering secrets she longed to know. The bough creaking softly under her feet, warning her, but not threatening.  She stayed close to the trunk, the thick and steady heart.  Darkness enfolded her, but nothing could keep her from the trees.