The House We Couldn't Leave

Sofi had always talked to Pip.

Ever since she arrived at Gribridge House.

Even before then, really. Pip had been with her since she could remember—though remembering was starting to feel like a skill she was losing.

She clung to Pip now harder than ever.

Not because she was afraid, exactly.

But because everyone else was starting to change.

Mina didn't smile anymore.

Aria whispered to herself sometimes.

Tara looked through walls like she was trying to see something she'd forgotten

And Reya… Reya stared at her drawings like they were instructions instead of art.

Pip never changed.

That's what Sofi told herself.

But lately… it was hard to say that with certainty.

She'd wake up and Pip wouldn't be where she left him. Once on the desk. Another time on the windowsill, staring out at the fog.

She'd asked Reya once if she moved him.

Reya had just blinked and said softly, "I thought he was with you."

Sofi didn't tell anyone else.

If she did, maybe Pip would stop moving.

Or maybe the house would take him.

And then she'd really be alone.

That afternoon, she stayed in her room instead of going to the library with Tara and Mina.

Pip sat on her pillow, floppy ears drooping, button eyes soft and unreadable.

"You're hiding something," she whispered.

Pip didn't respond, of course.

Not with words.

But when she pressed her fingers into his belly, she felt something stiff inside.

Her breath caught.

She hadn't sewn anything into him. Not since she patched his arm the first week.

She turned him over, slowly, heart hammering.

Unstitched the small seam along his back.

Inside, folded into a tiny square, was a drawing.

She opened it on her lap.

It was drawn in pencil, light and shaky.

It showed the six of them—standing in the courtyard.

Only one girl had a face.

Her.

The rest were blurred out, their outlines smudged or erased, like Reya had started drawing them and given up halfway.

But Sofi knew those poses.

She knew how Aria held her shoulder. How Tara always stood with her arms crossed. How Mina kept her chin up even when she looked tired.

But their faces…

Gone.

Beneath the image, a note was scribbled in soft graphite:

"You remember more than you think."

Sofi's lips trembled.

She looked at Pip.

"Did you put this here?"

She waited.

Nothing.

"Did I?"

Still nothing.

But she felt something stir deep in her chest. A memory, maybe. Or the suggestion of one.

That night, the wind outside howled like a crying child.

She lay awake with Pip tucked under her arm, staring at the ceiling.

She whispered, "I think I had another name once."

Pip didn't answer.

But the mirror across the room showed something strange.

Two reflections.

Hers.

And someone smaller, curled beside her.

It wasn't Pip.

It was a girl.

Dark hair. Thin arms. Hollow eyes.

Not Lina.

Not Naomi.

Someone else.

Someone who looked like Sofi.

Only younger.

She turned away.

Covered the mirror with a blanket.

But she couldn't unsee it.

She sat up.

Lit a candle.

And began searching her room.

Behind the dresser.

Under the floorboard Tara had helped her hide sweets in.

Nothing.

Then she pulled open her drawer of hair ribbons.

At the very bottom, a folded piece of pink cloth.

Her old dress.

The one she arrived in.

She'd forgotten about it.

She unfolded it slowly.

Inside the hem, something was stitched in red thread.

Three letters.

"Sia."

Her hands shook.

She turned to Pip.

"Do you know who that is?"

Silence.

But she already knew the answer.

It was her.

Or had been.

Sofi had never liked her full name.

But Sia…

That had been hers.

Once.

Before she let them call her Sofi.

Before she forgot that Sia had ever existed.

Why had she let go of it?

Had someone told her to?

Had she chosen to forget?

She held Pip tighter.

"No more forgetting."

The candle flickered.

Then guttered.

In the dark, she heard a whisper.

Right by her ear.

"You promised not to remember."

She froze.

Turned.

No one.

Only Pip.

But she knew what she'd heard.

And she knew the voice.

Her own.

The next morning, she didn't come down for breakfast.

Mina knocked, called her name.

So did Aria.

She didn't answer.

She sat on the floor, arms wrapped around Pip, reading the drawing again and again.

They'd forgotten her.

Before.

And she had forgotten herself.

Now it was happening again.

Unless—

She looked at the name in the hem.

Sia.

She whispered it aloud.

Felt it take root again.

Not just a name.

A version.

A past

A promise.

Later that day, she found Reya in the hallway.

Grabbed her arm.

Held up the sketch.

"You gave me this?"

Reya blinked.

"No. I didn't."

Sofi nodded.

"I know."

"Then who—?"

Sofi didn't answer.

But she smiled.

The first real smile in days

"I think… I did."

That night, she wrote a note.

Tucked it into Pip's belly.

For herself.

For Sia.

For the next version.

"If you forget again, read this.

You are Sia.

You had sisters.

You loved them.

Don't let the house take that.

Even if you forget the rest."

She stitched Pip closed again.

Tighter this time.

So no one else would find it.

Unless they needed to.