The Darkest Corners by Barry Hutchison Page B

gasped. ‘What’s going on here? Why are you out of bed?’
    My legs became heavy and my heart dropped into my stomach. ‘Oh,’ I whispered. ‘Hi, Mum.’
    And then I closed the door in her face.

I stood there with my forehead against the door for several seconds, listening to my mum knocking.
    â€˜Kyle? What’s going on? Let me in.’
    â€˜Is she real?’ I asked, not looking at Ameena.
    â€˜No. Yes. Kind of. I don’t know,’ Ameena said. ‘She exists. You made her exist. But she’s not your mum.’
    â€˜She looks like her. She sounds like her.’
    â€˜She’s your idea of your mum,’ Ameena said, and I did look at her then. ‘She’s an impression of your mum as seen through your eyes.’
    â€˜What’s the difference?’
    â€˜Well… everything. She doesn’t think like your mum, she thinks like you think your mum would think.’ She replayed the words in her head. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’
    Ameena stepped closer to me. Beyond the door, my mum continued to knock and talk.
    â€˜Let me in, sweetheart. Open the door and let me in.’
    â€˜You know those dolls where you squeeze its hand and it talks or burps or wets itself or whatever?’ Ameena said. ‘They might look like a real baby. They might pee on your leg like a real baby. But they ain’t a real baby. That’s sort of what she’s like.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But, you know, without the peeing on the leg stuff.’
    â€˜So… she’s a doll,’ I said. ‘She’s not real. She’s just a talking doll.’
    â€˜Yeah. Pretty much,’ Ameena said. Then she added, ‘Sorry.’
    I sucked air in through my teeth. ‘Not your fault.’
    She shrugged. ‘Well, at least that’s one thing then.’
    I stood back. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, straightened down my hospital gown and pulled open the door. My mum stood there, her hand raised mid-knock. She shot me an exasperated look and stepped through into the day room.
    â€˜What’s going on? Why aren’t you in bed?’ She looked around the room and settled on Ameena. ‘And who’s this?’
    â€˜That’s Ameena.’
    â€˜Who?’ A frown wrinkled her forehead, as if she knew the name, but couldn’t quite remember where from.
    â€˜Ameena. The girl I told you about.’
    â€˜What? No.’ She smiled and looked at me as if I were kidding. When she realised I wasn’t, her smile died away. ‘No, don’t be silly. There is no Ameena.’
    â€˜There is,’ I said, as Ameena waved. ‘She’s real. Well, more or less.’
    â€˜But… she can’t be. That was all a dream, that stuff. I mean, how can she be real? She can’t be.’
    â€˜But she is,’ I said softly. ‘It was all real. Everything I said.’
    â€˜No, but… you said… you said I died.’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said. My tonsils tightened, making my voice go up an octave. ‘I did say that.’
    There was silence in the day room then, broken only by the scratching of a pen against a newspaper crossword. Even the sounds of battle outside had quietened, and I felt as if the whole world were listening in on this conversation.
    I took her by the arm and led her over to the window. She stared down at the monster on the floor, but didn’t comment.
    â€˜Look,’ I said. ‘Look out there.’
    She peered through the blinds and I felt her whole body stiffen. I gave her arm a squeeze as silent tears began to roll down her cheeks.
    â€˜N-no,’ she whispered. ‘It can’t. It can’t be. This… this isn’t happening.’
    â€˜It is happening. And it’s happening because of me,’ I told her. ‘I did this.’
    She stared at me in horror. ‘You?’
    â€˜Not on purpose. He tricked me. He made me do it. My