My family wasn’t really there for me during my childhood. No, I wasn’t neglected or anything, in fact we were quite wealthy. I got three hot meals a day, I had my own room, and I had more toys than any little girl could ever need. But my parents were always really secretive, always sneaking around places I wasn’t allowed to go. They never played with me, nor hugged me when I cried. I was an only child, and our house was out of the way, so I didn’t have any friends to play with. So, I was always really lonely.
From the outside, we looked like a picture perfect family. A beautiful mom, a handsome dad, and a cute little girl all living in an upper-class mansion together seemed like a life some would trade anything for. My dad was a scientist, and devoted his life to performing experiments to get a better understanding of life. My mom was a housewife, staying home, tending to the garden and cooking meals. But the more you looked, the more cracks appeared. Mom and dad would constantly fight. Dad would always whisper to people on the phone and disappear for hours on end. Nobody ever came to tuck me in at night, or kiss my injuries to make them feel better.
And then there were the noises.
My room was in the basement, the last door to the right of the hallway. One night while I was falling asleep, I must have been 5 or 6, I heard it.
Somebody was distinctly banging on the other side of the wall, which was impossible, because there were no rooms on that side of the wall. I obviously was scared, and cried out for my dad.
“There’s nothing there. Don’t be a baby.” He said nonchalantly, not even entering my room but simply standing outside the doorway.
The knocks continued for the rest of the night, almost pleading with me, as I silently wept from fear.
Then that became the norm for me. Sometimes it was knocks, other times it was scratching, or even faint cries, coming from seemingly nowhere. I got pretty used to them.
One night, I remember talking to myself, pretending to be talking to a parent who cared about me, when the voice first talked.
“I hope I get pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.” I said to nobody, not expecting a response.
“Those sound great.” Responded an, albeit muffled, very distinct man’s voice from the wall.
I jumped back in fear.
“I-uh…” I stuttered.
“Sorry to scare you, dear. I-I’m sorry.” It said, and that was the end of our very short first conversation.
The next day, my family and I were silently eating oatmeal for breakfast when I mentioned the voice I heard.
My dad perked up.
“You said you heard a voice in the wall?” He asked.
“Uh-huh. It talked to me.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “You listen here, okay? Never speak about this again. Don’t listen to the voice, even if it talks to you. I have lots of science to figure out, I don’t need any of this bullcrap in my life. Get it?”
I flinched as he leaned in to me. “Yeah. I get it.”
After breakfast my dad went downstairs for a while. I didn’t hear the voice for a long time after that.
But as I started thinking about it, the more curious I became. I started getting excited. Maybe I had a secret brother, or maybe there was an elf living in our basement. The possibilities were endless.
That’s when I started seeking the voice out, asking it questions and talking to it about my day. It took maybe a week for it to start responding.
“What’s your favourite song?” I asked it one night.
“My Girl.” It responded.
“I’ve got sunshine,” I started. “On a cloudy day.”
There was silence for a while.
I knocked. “You’re supposed to finish it.”
“When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” I finally heard it sing, in a deep voice.
I laughed as we both sang the song together, and I felt like this was what it was like to have a friend.
Just then, my dad opened my door.
“Who the hell are you singing to?” He asked.
“N-nobody.” I stuttered.
He shook his head and slammed the door.
“That was my dad.” I explained.
“Yeah. I know.”
“My dad doesn’t like you that much.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I should probably go to bed now.”
“Yeah.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
From then on, my new wall friend was all I could think about. Every night I would sit up as close to the wall as I could and talk to him about anything. We would sing My Girl, we would talk about my life, and all the while I thought nothing of it. I didn’t even realize my dad getting more and more weird until it all came to a head.
“Hey,” He asked me. “Who are you talking to.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I hear you every night.”
“Oh… that’s my new friend. He lives in the walls.”
“The one I told you not to talk to?”
“Yeah.”
That night was the first my dad ever hit me. He yelled at me, about how there’s a reason I shouldn’t be talking to it, and how he was trying to protect me. Then he went down to the basement, and I didn’t hear from my friend for quite some time after that.
I missed my friend. Every night I’d bang on the wall, begging it to sing with me, or to talk to me about life. My mom eventually intervened.
“Listen. You don’t speak to that thing. Ever. Understand? If you know what’s good for yourself, you leave that thing alone. Let dad deal with it.”
“But why-“
“Just do it, okay?” She said, grabbing my face.
“O-okay.” I said, crying as she left the room.
I sobbed in my room for hours, not just because I couldn’t talk to my friend, but because my parents were both mad at me. But then I heard something.
“I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day.”
It was my friend. It was trying to make me feel better.
“When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” I said between sniffles.
At that point in time, I didn’t care if I wasn’t supposed to talk to it, because all I cared about was the fact that I had somebody to cheer me up.
My friend and I did that for years, all the way up until I moved out. I even remember the last conversation we had. After all the years, it knew everything. How I snuck out of the house to try a beer for the first time, how I wished my parents were there for me, how I hated when they called it a monster, or told me I shouldn’t talk to it.
“I have something to tell you.” I said as I slept on a mattress on the floor, all my stuff ready to be moved out.
“What is it?” It asked.
“I’m moving away. I don’t think I can talk to you ever again.”
It was silent for a while. “Oh.”
“I’ll miss you, you know. I never believed my parents when they said you weren’t safe.”
“Yes, I know, dear. One thing I have learned about you is you are not like your parents, and you never will be. You, my girl, are different.”
“You were my only friend.”
“Yeah. You were mine too.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” I admitted, starting to cry.
“Oh, my girl, you will be just fine. Trust me. You can do it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
As I grew up, I slowly began to forget about my friend. Our late night conversations were fading away from me, and I started to maybe think it was just a result of me being a lonely kid.
But one night, something happened that changed everything.
Police stations were calling me constantly, and as I ran to my old house, I noticed police vans were everywhere. Something was up.
My dad.
All of his secrets had been revealed.
Even the secret room to the right of the basement hallway.
My dad was a monster.
Apparently, his “science” was all about people. Seeing how long they could go without eating or drinking, seeing how high their pain tolerance was. All of this was happening right next to my bedroom my entire life without me knowing. He only reported himself to the police when his test subject finally failed one of my dad’s experiments.
His test subject?
A severely malnourished man, around mid forties, found dead on the scene.
My friend. I sobbed as I finally caught a look of my best friend, someone my dad had tortured for at least 18 years as they wheeled him away to the coroner’s office.
One of the police officers approached me.
“This was found in your father’s… science lab.” He said, shuddering at the last words. “It was addressed to you.”
It was a small note, with my name sprawled across it in what looked to be blood. It took all of my courage to open it. Slowly, I unfolded the paper.
“You always were my sunshine on a cloudy day. Thank you for not being like your parents. Love, your wall friend. Goodnight.”