We have all hidden at some point in our lives, even if we didn't mean to.
Mine was in my parent's wardrobe, tucked away behind long skirts and an old suitcase.
I remember being there but not what I had hidden from in the first place.
It can't have been siblings as I was an only child at the time.
My older sister had died by then.
She was six, loved to play games.
That's what killed her you know, she wanted to climb the bookcase while our parents were out.
I was four and couldn't stop her.
The police only came because the neighbours heard a loud crash and my screaming.
I don't really know why all this has come back to me.
It's just that the old hiding place is such a vivid memory, so lucid.
If I close my eyes right now I can see myself peering past the edge of the case at whatever
is in the room with me, trying to find me.
I get the feeling that I know the person in the room but they shouldn't be there.
They can't be there, it's somehow wrong.
But there they are, just out of sight.
My gut is telling me they are female.
I've had the urge recently to go back to my parent's home.
To sit in the cupboard and relive that memory... put it to rest.
I know the wording is weird but I just need to find out who is waiting there.
I need to finish the game.
For her.
For us.
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