Yes, Yes

I rested my fingers lightly on the planchette. For a few minutes, nothing. I almost lifted my hand when it began to move. Was I doing this subconsciously? I asked myself that every time I used the board, alone in the dark. I had grown used to being alone. I didn’t need anyone anymore. Except for it.

Bang! “Let me out!”

I heard the planchette’s feet drag faintly against the board. I felt hesitation through my fingertips: a small pause over certain letters, a light turn, then a steady pull. I relaxed my wrists and let it move. I eased the pressure until I could barely feel my fingertips on the surface; it kept moving. When my fingers slipped toward the edge, I quickly adjusted them.

The planchette changed direction again. Why wouldn’t it let me talk to him?

It glided toward the upper corner and stopped over YES. I kept my fingers in place. For months I used the board by myself. At first, its messages comforted me: I’M HERE. YOU’RE NOT ALONE. Later it spelled, YOU DON’T NEED ANYONE ELSE. My friends stopped joining me after the answers began coming true. The board predicted the death of two of my friends’ pets, and they died just as the board said they would. They called it dangerous. I called them weak. I wanted to speak to Daddy, and the board was the only way. People said never to play alone. Play… is this really a game? They also said to end every session with GOODBYE. But my friend told me goodbye would send it away, so I stopped saying it.

He pounded again. “You’re safe in there!” I shouted. “Please stay where you are.”

“Annie, why are you doing this? I love you,” Daniel asked.

“It’s the only way to protect you,” I called. “I love you, Daniel. Please stop banging.”

The voice had promised Daniel would be safe in the cellar. He had a sofa, a television, a stocked refrigerator, even a bathroom. I had already driven my friends away; he was the only one who kept coming back. Why couldn’t he leave me in peace?

“It’s just past midnight. Daddy, please come through. I miss you.” I leaned closer to the board. “You were here last night. I know you can hear me.”

The planchette moved again, spelling out: MAY I STAY UNTIL SUNRISE?

“Yes. Anything. I’m so tired. Let me sleep afterward. Please let me talk to Daddy.” I lifted my fingers from the planchette and flexed my aching hands.

“You’re distracted,” a deep voice said. “Concentrate, girl, or you won’t speak to your father again.”

“You’ve never spoken before. Why now?”

“You let me stay.”

“Where are you?”

“Around, girl. Around.”

“I stopped speaking to everyone because you told me to. What more do you need?”

Another bang from below made me jump.

“Let me send him away. Then we can be alone again.” The clock read 1:45 a.m. I was certain it had been only minutes since midnight.

“If you don’t get rid of him, I will.” The voice boomed against the bare walls.

“And if someone else comes here, I can’t promise what will happen.”

“I could send him for Mother.”

The voice said nothing.

“She’d come,” I said. “If Daniel told her I needed her, she’d come.”

“Then let him go.”

I went downstairs, lifted the metal latch on the hallway side of the cellar door, and pulled it open.

“Daniel?” The pounding stopped. He came out blinking, his eyes searching my face.

“Get Mother. I’ll talk to her.”

“Will you let her help you?”

The voice whispered in my ear, “Tell him you will.”

“I will.” For a moment, I heard nothing from below.

“I’m coming back, Annie. I’m not leaving you like this.” He hurried to the front door. Mother lived four houses down. He returned a few minutes later with her, using his spare key.

“Annie, Annie, it’s Mother. Come down here, sweetheart. Please.”

“Mom, you came.” Tears blurred my sight.

“Yes, sweetheart.” I walked downstairs and hugged Mother. After we let go, I stood in front of her and looked at the floor.

Mother’s smile faltered when she saw me. She cupped my cheek, set her thumb against my eyebrow, and smoothed it gently toward my temple. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“I don’t know what to do, Mother.”

“Come sit with me. Put your head on my lap, and I’ll stroke your hair until you sleep, just like when you were little.”

I began to follow Mother.

The voice whispered in my ear, “She’ll take the board away. Then you’ll never hear him again.”

The board, I thought. It’s upstairs. “OK, Mom. Let’s go upstairs. There’s more room on my bed.”

“OK, sweetheart, wherever you are most comfortable. After you sleep, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Daniel said, “I’ll tidy up downstairs and give you two some time.”

I barely listened to Daniel.

“Let Mother take care of you, Annie. Fresh sheets, fresh pajamas, and a little air. You’ll feel better after you rest.”

“OK, Mom.”

“I’ll leave your board on the nightstand for now.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

Mother tucked the covers around my shoulders, then opened the front-facing bedroom window to let in cool air. She sat beside me, stroking my hair. For the first time in months, I felt myself begin to relax.

I don’t know how long I lay there. Mother got up once to straighten the curtains, then came back. I heard Daniel downstairs, a floorboard creaking beneath his feet. Sometimes I thought I was asleep, only to realize that Mother’s fingers were still moving through my hair.

“There you go, sweetheart.”

I smiled. Then I heard the other voice say my name.

I ignored it. “Annie. Listen to me.” I kept my eyes shut.

“OPEN YOUR EYES!” it screamed inside my head. I startled awake.

Mother stopped stroking my hair.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Mom. I thought I heard something.”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll stay.” I pressed my cheek into her hand.

“You and Dad used to take turns doing this when I couldn’t sleep. Remember?”

“I remember.” She brushed my hair away from my forehead. “Just rest now.”

Mother shifted beside me, knocking the board from the nightstand. “Oh, I’m sorry. It isn’t broken.” She bent and picked it up.

“My board.” I sat up in bed, frantic.

“Not now, sweetheart. You need sleep.” She smiled.

The voice whispered, “See? She’s laughing at you. Remember the stress before your father’s heart attack? Who caused that, Annie?”

The clock read 3:40 a.m. Nearly two hours had passed since I sent Daniel for Mother. I remembered her arrival and her fingers in my hair, but the time between had slipped away.

“I dropped my phone in the cellar when you locked me in,” Daniel called from downstairs. “I’m getting it so I can call for help. I’ve wedged the door open with a chair. I’m not getting trapped again.” The chair scraped across the floor.

“Mother, give that to me, now.”

“No, sweetheart, you’ve become obsessed with this thing. Out it goes.”

The voice roared inside my head. “ANNIE!”

“She’s taking him from you. Stop her!”

“Mom, not the window.”

Before I could stop her, Mother crossed to the open window and flung the board into the front yard.

“Ungrateful girl,” the voice hissed. “After everything I’ve done for you.”

“Leave it where it is, sweetheart.”

“I’m getting it.” I hurried into the hall. Mother blocked the top of the stairs.

“You’ll have to go through me.”

“Mom, please. Move.” I tried to slip past. My shoulder struck hers. She reached for the banister, missed, and tumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, she lay motionless.

“What in the hell was that?” Daniel yelled from the cellar.

I froze at the top of the stairs. Below me, the chair scraped away from the cellar door. Daniel shouted, and the door slammed. A metallic click followed: the outside latch had snapped shut, beyond his reach.

“Annie!” Daniel yelled. “Open the door!”

“She’s mine now, boy,” the voice said, loud enough to shake the hallway.

“Annie, listen to me.” Daniel’s voice trembled, but he kept speaking. “That wasn’t you. Whatever is talking to you, don’t answer it.”

“Too late,” the other voice said.

“I know you’re frightened,” Daniel called. “I’m frightened too. But you can still hear me. One breath, Annie. Breathe with me.” He had told me the same thing at Daddy’s funeral, with one hand steady against my back. I found myself taking a breath.

“Be quiet, boy.”

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle,” Daniel prayed.

“You will die down there.”

Daniel cried out. Something struck the cellar wall, then fell silent. I listened, but he made no further sound.

I ran outside and retrieved the board from the grass. Mother still lay at the foot of the stairs. I stopped and waited for her to move. I wanted to kneel beside her, to call her name. Instead, my fingers tightened around the board, and my feet carried me past her and up to my room.

I set the board on my table and reached for the planchette. It was gone.

The house was silent. The clock read 4:25 a.m.

“I know it was an accident, sweetheart. You’d never hurt me on purpose.”

Mother entered my room as though nothing had happened.

“I thought you were dead.” She cupped my cheek, but her thumb traced its familiar path above my eyebrow without touching it. I waited for the gentle pressure I had known since childhood. It never came.

“You.”

“Yes, Annie. You finally noticed.”

I looked from the figure to the board, searching for the missing planchette.

“Where is it?” I whispered.

“You don’t need it now.” The voice came from behind me. When I turned, no one was there.

“Where’s my father?”

“Your father?” The voice sounded amused. “You’re still asking?”

“You said I could speak to him.”

“I said a lot of things.”

“Was any of it true?”

“True enough to keep you here.” Something cold spread across my shoulders.

“You lied to me.”

“I gave you the words you wanted. His memories, his little sayings. You believed me.”

“How did you know those things?”

“You talked to me every night,” it said. “I listened. I learned.”

“Some of those things I never told you.”

“Are you sure?” I stared toward the bedroom door.

“Mother was trying to help me.”

“Yes.” The answer surprised me.

“You said she wanted to take him away.”

“And you believed me.”

“You said she caused his heart attack.”

“I said whatever would make you stop listening to her.”

“Why?”

The voice fell silent.

I remembered Mother’s hand moving through my hair. For a little while, I had forgotten the board, and the voice had screamed for my attention. It sounded afraid. I touched my eyebrow, remembering the warmth of her thumb.

My legs shook as I stood.

“Daniel was trying to help me too.”

“He kept telling you to eat, to sleep, to put that board away. He would have taken you from me.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Nothing you haven’t helped me do.”

“I didn’t hurt Daniel!”

“You locked him in the cellar.”

“To keep him safe! You told me he’d be safe down there. I believed you!”

“That’s what I told you, isn’t it?”

I closed my eyes.

“Stop.”

“You shut out your friends. You stopped sleeping. You stopped saying goodbye. Each night you gave me a little more.”

“Stop it!”

“And when I asked whether I could stay until sunrise, what did you say?” I remembered the planchette settling over the letters: MAY I STAY UNTIL SUNRISE?

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Exactly.” The room grew colder. The smell of spoiled meat rose around me. It made me sick.

“Before tonight, I could only reach you through the board. You gave me until sunrise. Now I can touch this house and you.”

I remembered the chair sliding away from the cellar door.

“And Mother?”

“You pushed her.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“She’s still lying at the bottom of your stairs.” Tears filled my eyes.

“You made me do it.”

“I made you afraid. I made you desperate. You pushed her.” I covered my ears.

“Leave me alone!”

“I will, if that’s what you want.” I looked up.

“You will?”

“At sunrise, the permission you gave me ends. Unless you invite me to stay.”

“Then go.”

“I could.” For a moment, the house was quiet. Then a groan rose from below.

“Daniel?” A weak cough answered.

“Annie?” I sprang from the chair.

“Daniel! I’m coming!”

“Sit down, girl.” I seized the bedroom doorknob. It turned a fraction before jerking back against my palm. I tried again, pushing harder, and the door moved an inch.

“Let me go!”

“Then listen.”

Daniel’s voice drifted up through the floor. “Annie, breathe with me. You can still…”

A sharp cry cut him off. The doorknob wrenched out of my grasp.

“What are you doing to him?”

“I’m reminding you what happens when you refuse me.”

“Please. He’s only trying to help!”

“He prayed against me. Did you think I would forget?”

“Let him go.”

“I will.” The pressure around my hand eased. I stumbled backward.

“Then let him out!”

“When you give me what I want.” I looked toward the open window. The darkness above the rooftops had begun to thin.

“What do you want?”

“Another answer.” My eyes moved to the board.

“You already have my answer.”

“That answer ends at sunrise.”

“What happens if I say yes again?”

“I stay.”

“For how long?”

“As long as you live.” My stomach turned. The putrid stench still lingered in the room, its source unknown, but this time it wasn’t the smell making me sick.

“You want my body.”

“In more ways than you know. I’ve been preparing you for months.”

“No.”

“You learned to obey. Now give me the rest.”

“Myself.”

“Yes.” I went back toward the bed.

“No. I won’t.” A cry came from the cellar. Daniel screamed my name, and something struck the door below with a tremendous bang.

“Stop hurting him!”

“Then choose.”

“Please. I’ll do anything else.”

“There is nothing else.” I could hear Daniel struggling to breathe.

“Annie,” Daniel called faintly. “Don’t answer it.”

“He will die. You’ll hear every minute of it. And you’ll know you could have saved him.”

“You promise you’ll let him live?”

“Yes.”

“Your promises are lies.”

“Then refuse me.”

The clock read 6:04 a.m. Beyond the open window, the sky was pale. The sun had not yet risen.

Daniel cried out again. Mother lay downstairs; Daniel was trapped beneath me. Everyone I loved had suffered because I had listened to that voice.

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t hurt Daniel anymore.” The voice softened until it almost sounded like Daddy’s. In the dresser mirror, my reflection smiled. Only, I wasn’t smiling. I pressed my lips together, but the grin held.

“Then answer me, sweetheart.” Something cold settled against my cheek. No hand was there. The smile loosened, leaving my face aching.

“May I stay after sunrise?” I closed my eyes. I knew what its promises were worth. I knew it could be lying again. But Daniel was still alive. If there was even the smallest chance that surrendering myself would save him, how could I refuse?

“Yes.”