Frankie

I can hear my breath against the stillness of the hallway. It's loud and raspy. My hands are shaking. I think my breath is going to echo through the house. Frankie might hear it.

Grandpa showed me all of the hidden doors in this house when I spent summers here as a child. Mom said the reason why Grandpa chose this house, apart from the lake, was the secret doors. There was one in the dining room, activated by a light switch. The switch had to be pushed in and up to activate the door. It operated on hydraulics, so it didn't matter if the power went out. Inside was a hallway that led to a metal staircase. The top of the stairs opened another hidden door in a guest bedroom. I lost Frankie in the dining room by going through the door.

When I knew she was coming, I had set up a trap in the family room moments before her arrival. I had been in that room when she cut the power, alerting me to her presence on the property. I knew where the breaker box was, and knew that meant she would be coming from the west wing. She knew my only way out would be the dining room or the kitchen.

I set the trap by dropping a chair through the middle of the glass coffee table. It smashed easily. I used a throw blanket to push all of the shards into a pile, and then scattered the four table legs. I wanted the legs to trip Frankie as she came for me, and for her body to land in the glass. I succeeded. I heard her scream "my leg!" after the crash.

I'm still in the hallway now. I'm scared. There's a dripping sound, an old pipe. The hallway is musty. It's probably been unused since Grandpa died in 1977. The dripping is rhythmic.

Frankie and I were nine years old when we met in 1994, twenty years ago. We met during the last summer that Mom let me come to visit Grandpa.

I saw Frankie for the first time on the lake. Grandpa was securing the boat to the dock. I saw the neighbors pull up to their dock. She was dressed just like me, shorts and a t-shirt with a puffy bright orange lifejacket. "Mr. Cason has a granddaughter too?" I asked Grandpa. He looked across the water to their property and back at me. "I guess he does."

I stayed at Grandpa's house for a month every summer. Mom would come every weekend. By the time she came back that weekend, Frankie and I had spent several days together in Grandpa's house. I taught her about the secret doors when we played hide-and-seek. She taught me how to look for bugs underneath rocks in the backyard, and then showed me where you should hit a cat's head with the same rock if you wanted to see it walk funny.

She taught me how to find the "old people juice" in the kitchen cabinets, and add it to the lemonade Grandpa made us. The juice made the lemonade taste so much better, and we would run around the yard so fast after drinking it.

Frankie wanted me to know how to protect myself if someone broke into Grandpa's house. She told me how easy it would be for someone to turn off all of the lights. She showed me the breaker box. We tested turning off the power, and laughed for hours while we watched Grandpa checking each room. Frankie also taught me how to cut someone's throat. We practiced by dressing up a tree in the backyard. We put a yellow raincoat around the tree trunk and drew a face. Then we sliced the bark with a knife where the neck would be on a real person. The sap was so thick and dark that it looked like real blood.

When I told her Grandpa had taught me how to tie knots, Frankie told me said you could tie something around the intruder's neck and hold it until they couldn't breathe. I let her practice on me, but I ended up with bruises on both sides of my neck. Mom noticed the bruising right away when she got there on Friday.

Mom had a lot of questions about Frankie. I didn't notice her and Grandpa fighting, but something must have happened because that Saturday, Mom announced we were leaving. As she packed my suitcase, she told me we would not be coming back.

I talked about Frankie nonstop after the trip. I repeatedly asked Mom when I would be able to have Frankie come to our house to visit. I knew her address so I wrote several letters and Mom mailed them for me, but Frankie never responded.

When Grandpa died, Mom was awarded the property but sold it shortly after. Three months ago, I learned the house had been listed on Stay Here. It had been available to be rented out on that app for a few years by the current property owners. When I discovered the house was listed on there, I had been looking for a weekend getaway and had selected the "flexible" option on the app. When I saw a pin for an available house near the lake, I remembered Grandpa's house and clicked on it. I was stunned to discover it was the same property. The next available date was not for a few months, but I booked it anyway.

A few days after paying the deposit and securing my rental, I pulled into my driveway and noticed my mailbox flag had been raised. I opened it to find an envelope with my name and address, but without any postage. The handwriting was messy, but legible. It looked as though someone had written it with their other hand.

"I'm so excited you're coming back." I flipped the paper over, but the back was blank. There wasn't anything on the back or inside of the envelope, and the letter wasn't signed. I threw it in the garbage.

The next morning, it repeated. This envelope was on my doormat, with the same handwriting and still no postage. "We can play again." I kept both letters in a folder on my kitchen island.

I didn't receive any more for three weeks. The property owner emailed my confirmation, and I told her my history with the house. She said it reminded her of the young woman who owned the neighboring property; a woman who had inherited her Grandfather's property when he died.

It was Frankie! It had to be! I ran to the kitchen and studied the pages again. It had to be her!

I got another letter that evening. It was on the doormat again, in the same style. "I remember what really happened to Tim. Do you?"

This was very confusing. I didn't know anyone named Tim. The only person Frankie met with me was Grandpa, but he wasn't named Tim. There also wasn't anything that "really" happened to Grandpa; he died from a stroke. I kept trying to think about who Tim might be for the rest of the day. I tried using it as an anagram, but I couldn't come up with anything. The cats we had played with had names, but they were things like Cooby and Dill. I started to wonder if someone had found out about the first two letters, and had pulled a prank on me with the third. It was either that, or my old friend was remembering someone else who had an experience with someone named Tim.

That night I woke up from a nightmare about a small boy in a yellow raincoat. He had been standing very still in a backyard, when his face suddenly contorted. His mouth opened as if he were screaming, but there wasn't a single sound except for gurgling. He was choking. He crumpled to the ground and transformed into a pile of fallen leaves as I woke up.

I didn't hear from the property owner again until the night before my stay, with notes on the keyless entry. She let me know about the coffee maker and a boat that could be used by any guests. I hadn't received any additional notes from my friend, but decided I would knock on her door the second day of my trip.

I recognized the crunch of the gravel underneath my tires and remembered the same sound from beneath Mom's station wagon as I pulled into the driveway. My stomach was filled with familiar excitement as I pulled up to Grandpa's house. It was only a few hours from my apartment but getting out of the city for the weekend during the fall foliage was a great bonus.

A basket of fruit was in front of the door. All Stay Here properties come with a "contact free, germ free" policy, so it was nice that the property owner had left it outside. I entered the passcode she had sent me, and carried my fruit basket and duffel bag through Grandpa's front door.

After leaving the fruit and bag in the family room, I wandered around the house as the familiar smell set in. I kept expecting to see Mom or Grandpa in each room I passed, as I recounted all of the time I had spent there. It was as if we had never left.

I chose the same bedroom as when I would visit. I went back to the family room to get my things to unpack, and noticed some of the fruit had been knocked out of the bowl. The nectarines and cherries had fallen on the coffee table, and I could see the base of the fruit basket. The filler was pieces of ragged tree bark. They seemed fresh. I ran my finger along the edge of one piece and listened for signs of any animals in the house. It was silent.

I replaced the fruit and moved the bowl into the dining room. I returned to the bedroom with my duffel bag and started unpacking my things. As a child, I had chosen that room because the large windows faced the dock and backyard. I could watch Grandpa rowing back to the dock in the mornings if he went fishing while I slept in. I opened my bag on the bed and had been moving my folded clothes to the dresser on the other side of the room. I walked by the window on each trip, but on the third time I caught something in the corner of my eye. A piece of yellow garbage had been caught around one of the thinner trees in the yard. The fabric was blowing in the light breeze.

I kicked the empty duffel under the bed. A pair of rainboots were next to the backdoor with a sign that said "For Anyone!" above them. They were exactly my size. I headed to the backyard to clean off the tree.

The piece of trash was a piece of thick fabric. It almost felt like rubber. It was stuck to what I thought was sap on the tree, but when I tore it from the bark and turned it over, I dropped the fabric and shrieked. It was blood!

I looked around the yard but didn't see anyone. I picked the fabric back up from the ground and flipped it over in disbelief; it was bare and dry. I couldn't understand what was going on, but then I remembered I had not had anything to eat that day. The fruit bowl was suddenly very inviting and I thought maybe I would feel better if I had a snack.

When I got inside, the bowl was missing from the dining room. An envelope with my name on it was in the center of the table. It was the same handwriting as my previous notes. This was the longest letter of the group.

"It's me. Did you recognize the bark? It's me. I can see what you're doing. I can hear you. Did you come back to find us? I'm coming for you."

This was the first time I felt fear from the letters. I checked the doors and windows. The gravel didn't look displaced in the driveway except for my car.

Mom answered on the second ring. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were renting Grandpa's house."

"Do you remember the girl I met the last summer we came here?"

There was a pause before Mom exhaled. "Did you see her?"

I told her the whole story. She sighed. "I wish you had told me. You shouldn't be there alone. I'm going to come, okay? I will leave now. Okay?" She sounded calm.

I turned around as she was making small talk while she packed. I noticed the fruit bowl was back on the table, but I didn't tell Mom. I took an apple and agreed that she could come tonight. "You can use Grandpa's old room."

Mom texted me her location pin when she left her house. It would be six hours, but she would get there around 11pm. I finished my apple and took it to the bins outside. I didn't want to attract any gnats in the kitchen.

"I'll see you tonight." I flung the garbage lid away from me and screamed as I read the message on the inside of the lid. It was in fresh blood. I didn't see anyone in the yard. There were no cars on the road. The driveway next-door was empty.

I noticed the sun was already low in the sky. It would be dark soon. I thought of the breaker box. I thought of Frankie and how she knew where it was located too. I ran back inside.

I went into the family room and watched Mom's pin. The longer I sat there, the more I remembered about that summer. I remembered everything Frankie had done. It had all escalated so quickly. She would often scream, for no reason, with her fingers plugging her ears. She smashed things in the house when Grandpa told her she couldn't abuse more cats. The more I remembered, the more afraid I felt. I no longer believed the letters were an indication of friendship. She was coming there to kill me. By the time she cut the power, I was ready.

It's 10:30. I don't have a signal on my phone but Mom should be here in the next thirty minutes. I just need to get outside. I need to stop her before she goes inside. We can escape in her car together.

"Do you think I forgot where you hid? The way you forgot about Tim?" Frankie bellowed. I bit my bottom lip. I have to get out.

"Did Mommy pretend that everything would go back to normal if you never saw me again?" Frankie hissed. I can't hear any footsteps and I can't tell if her voice is getting closer. "I don't think Tim would agree."

Tim's face suddenly flooded into my mind. Brown hair. Pale skin. Bright blue eyes. Freckles that probably only existed in the summertime.

Tim's house was down the street. We had invited him to play with us one morning when he was riding his bike. It was raining, but light enough that we could still play in the yard. Grandpa said we had to wear our rain gear. I had my green rain boots and Tim had his yellow rain jacket.

The mixture of the light rain against the rubber material had caused the blood to plummet down the front of Tim. Frankie had sliced his neck as she demonstrated how to take out a predator. She killed him.

I'm so confused. Why did I forget about this? I feel like I'm going to pass out. I need to get away from her.

Frankie turned the light on her phone at the exact second that I met her eyes with mine, face to face. A high pitched banshee sound erupted from the bottom of Frankie's throat. I could see her browned teeth dangling from her gums. Her breath smelled like a cherries and brown sugar.

I have never moved this fast in my life. I don't remember shoving her out of my way, but I ran back into the dining room. I tore through the family room and dodged the remnants of my trap. I can hear her footsteps behind me. I can feel her breath on my neck.

I made it to the dock but I didn't realize my plan had failed until I got to the edge. The boat isn't there. As I turned to make a new plan, I felt her hands clench my biceps.

The water is freezing. Frankie's eyes look wild. One arm is still wrapped around mine and she's digging her nails into my skin. The other hand is squeezing my neck. I'm trying to scream but water is filling my throat. I can't see anything but black spots and bubbles.

A different hand slipped under my arm. It's tight. I'm laying on top of the dock. The water tastes sour as it pours out of my mouth.

"Can you hear me? Can you see me?" Mom's face is in front of mine.

I jumped up and looked over the edge. "Where is she?! She killed Tim! She killed him!"

Mom squeezes my shoulders. "Stop it, Frankie! Just stop it!"

I push her arms off me as I notice the blood trickling down my leg. Mom follows my gaze and sighs, defeated. "You set up the trap in the family room. They'll have to bandage it before they take you back."

One of the nurses standing in the grass at the edge of the dock opened her first aid kit to retrieve a bandage. The other tightened her grip on the straitjacket.