Read Don't Forget Me! for Free Online

Sighing. Moaning.
    I struggled to hear them. What were they whispering?
    â€œWho’s there?” I cried, my voice tight, clogged with sleep.
    I swung my feet to the floor and clicked on the bedside table lamp. Was I dreaming? Or were the whispers coming from down the hall?
    Shivering, I stood unsteadily. “Who—who’s there?” I repeated.
    Burglars? Had someone broken in?
    â€œWho’s there?”
    I stumbled to the doorway and peered up and down the dark hall. No one. Peter’s door was closed. No light from under it.
    And then the whispers began again. “Peter … Peter … ”
    I gasped. Was someone calling my brother?
    It couldn’t be a burglar. A burglar wouldn’t be calling Peter.
    The whispers seemed to float up the front stairway.
    I clicked on the hall light, tugged down the hem of my nightshirt, and ran to the top of the stairs. “Who is it?”
    â€œPeter …”
    â€œPlease! Who’s there?”
    My heart thudding, I raced down the stairs, the wood cold on my bare feet. My hand fumbled on the wall, finally pushing the switch, and the living room lights flickered on.
    I gazed around the empty room.
    â€œPeter … we’re waiting….”
    â€œWho’s here? Is someone in here?” I didn’t recognize my shrill, frightened voice.
    Danielle, call the police! I ordered myself.
    I started to the phone. But I stopped when I saw the door open. The door to the basement stairs. Wide-open again, even though I had carefully closed it before going to bed.
    Shivering, I hugged my nightshirt around me. Slowly, I made my way down the hall to the open door.
    â€œPeter … ”
    I grabbed the door and peered into the darkness of the basement stairs. “Who’s there?” I shouted in a quivering voice. “Please! Who is it? Who?”

 

    â€œ Peter … Peter … ”
    The whispers were so faint, so pleading. As if they were calling to him, begging him to come down.
    Who was down there?
    I took a deep breath, struggling to force my body to stop trembling. Then I reached into the stairwell and clicked on the basement light.
    Darkness.
    Oh. I remembered. The switch was broken.
    â€œ Peter … Peter … ”
    I grabbed the heavy metal flashlight off its hook on the wall. I clicked it on and sent a beam of white light down the stairs. The light bounced over the plaster basement wall below. The steps were steep and crooked, tilted one way and another.
    I took another deep breath, then stepped into the stairwell. I swept the light down the stairs, then over the basement floor.
    No one there.
    The whispers stopped. Damp, heavy air floated up to greet me, sour smelling and musty. I gripped the flashlight so tightly my hand ached.
    â€œI—I’m coming down,” I shouted.
    Silence.
    I’ll stop at the bottom, I decided. If I see someone, I’ll run back upstairs and call the police.
    Gripping the flashlight in one hand, pressing my other hand against the cold plaster wall, I slowly made my way down. Step-by-step. The stairs groaned beneath my weight. I could feel thick dust collecting on the soles of my bare feet.
    The light trembled over the basement wall. As I reached the last step, it cracked under my foot. I grabbed the wall to keep from falling.
    Stopping to catch my breath, I stared into the circle of trembling white light, and listened.
    Silence. Such a heavy silence. Heavy as the damp, stale air.
    And then I heard a moan.
    I gasped.
    Should I turn and run back up?
    â€œAnyone here?” I tried to shout, but the words escaped in a whisper.
    I swept the beam of light around the basement. I could see a large, low-ceilinged room, cluttered with cartons, old wardrobes, a battered dresser and other furniture, a stack of folding chairs, cans and jars, old newspapers piled nearly to the ceiling….
    Then … then … a human figure ! A figure standing stiffly in an empty square