What shouldn't see daylight

The door to the apartment creaked open, but I’ve lived here long enough to know how to minimize noise. Not that it matters-- the air stinks of alcohol, which means that my mother is dead to the world sleeping it off.

Know who else should be in bed? Billie. But, apparently that’s too boring for her. I sighed and rubbed at my temples: I didn’t need yet another problem to obsess over that night. No, not obsess, never obsess-- investigate. Forgive me for being tired at two in the morning.

Billie had entirely too much energy. And as always, she focused it on annoying me. “Ley, what were you doing out so late?”

“Investigating.”

“Did you learn anything new?” She contorted her face into something resembling seriousness, but I knew it wouldn’t last-- the main reason I fired her from being my detective-minion was her absolute inability to maintain her focus for more than 10 minutes on anything other than her “fairies”. Or annoying me.

I shifted, trying to make myself more comfortable for what would undoubtedly be a long session of pestering. The deceptively ordinary-looking box I was holding cut into my arms and weighed on my mind. “I learned a lot. I’m still not sure what all of it means, but I’ll figure it out. You know me.” Why was I trying to reassure her? It’s not like I was scared of what I learned or anything like that. No way.

I shouldn’t have bothered. Her attention was already elsewhere. “What’s in the box?”

I held back a laugh, and swallowed back its bitter taste. “A false promise.”

Billie looked confused-- I guess I can’t blame her. It didn’t last long though-- soon enough, her eyes glazed over peacefully, and she started singing and making nonsensical gestures at something only she could see.

I sighed, and decided to suspend my investigation for the night-- maybe there was such a thing as knowing and suspecting too much and not having enough certainty in any of it. I shoved the unopened box beneath my bed, to join all the other thoughts that shouldn’t see the light of day but inevitably chase my mind through the night. And if maybe, if for that blurry moment between wakefulness and sleep, I saw a barely (not?) there figure returning Billie’s conversation, then… that’s more information that I’ll have to (try to) make sense of tomorrow.