The little girl I babysat was six, observant, and much too specific about what she said was following me.
I babysat professionally through college and kept doing it on weekends after I got a full-time job because the money was good.
I've dealt with kids who bit, kids who refused to sleep, kids who lied just to see what would happen, and one eight-year-old who figured out how to order $180 worth of game credits while I was in the bathroom.
So when six-year-old June told me I had "another face," I didn't think ghost.
I thought weird kid.
Her parents, Megan and Ross, were normal people. Nice house in a newer development, dog named Pepper, family photos everywhere. June was their only child.
The first night I watched her, she asked the usual questions.
Did I have a boyfriend?
Did I have a baby?
Was I old?
Then she looked at me for a long time and said, "Your other face looks older."
I laughed.
"My what?"
"Your other face."
"I only have this one."
She shook her head as if I was being silly.
"Not at night."
Kids say things like that. I changed the subject.
At bedtime she asked me to leave her closet light on.
I said sure.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
"If you come back later, don't talk to me."
"Come back from where?"
"Downstairs."
"I'm going to be downstairs all night."
She stared at me.
"That's why."
I told her goodnight and went down.
At around 10:45 I heard her bedroom door open.
I expected her on the stairs asking for water.
Instead she whispered from the top landing, "Which one are you?"
I looked up.
"Elise."
"Say the thing."
"What thing?"
She started crying.
Not loud crying. Quiet, scared crying.
I went up.
She backed away from me.
"June, what's wrong?"
"You forgot."
I crouched down and asked what I was supposed to say.
She wouldn't tell me.
I texted her mother.
Megan replied almost immediately:
Oh gosh sorry. She's doing the double game again. Ask her what color Pepper's collar is.
I asked.
June whispered, "Blue."
"Blue," I said.
She relaxed instantly.
I messaged Megan: What is the double game?
Imaginary friend phase. She says people have copies. Pediatrician says don't feed into it too much.
Okay. That made sense.
I got June back into bed.
Before I left the room, she said, "The other you knows about the collar now."
I smiled because I didn't want her to see that line had gotten to me.
The little girl I babysat started giving me rules
I babysat for them four more times over the next month.
The double game got more specific.
June said the other Elise only came after she fell asleep.
It stood in her doorway and watched her.
It never blinked.
It smiled "with too many bottom teeth."
I told her gently that dreams can feel real.
She said, "I know. This isn't a dream because dreams don't wait when I wake up."
I mentioned it to her parents.
They looked tired.
Apparently June had been doing this with her father too. She sometimes insisted that "wrong Daddy" was in the hallway while Ross was downstairs.
They had put a child gate at the top of the stairs because she kept trying to sleep in their room.
The fifth night is the reason I'm writing this.
Megan and Ross were at a wedding and wouldn't be back until after midnight.
June fell asleep around nine.
I watched a movie downstairs.
At 10:17, Pepper started growling.
Not barking. Growling toward the stairwell.
I paused the movie.
The upstairs hallway was dark except for June's closet light spilling through her open door.
"Pepper?"
The dog stood up.
His fur lifted along his back.
Then I heard my own voice from upstairs.
"June?"
I couldn't move.
It said her name exactly the way I do when I'm checking if a child is awake. Soft, stretched slightly at the end.
"Juuune?"
Pepper began barking.
I grabbed my phone.
Then June screamed.
I ran upstairs.
She was standing on her bed with her back against the wall.
Her bedroom door was open.
Nobody else was there.
"It was you," she sobbed.
"I'm right here."
"It was you."
I picked her up.
She dug her fingers into my shoulders.
"Where did it go?" I asked.
She pointed over my shoulder.
"Downstairs."
I carried her into her parents' bedroom and locked the door.
I called Megan.
While I explained, somebody walked slowly across the kitchen below us.
The floorboards had a distinct squeak near the island.
Squeak.
Pause.
Squeak.
June whispered, "Don't let it know we're together."
Megan heard the footsteps over the phone.
She told me to call 911.
I did.
We waited in the locked bedroom.
Then my phone rang.
My own number appeared on the screen.
June started shaking her head.
"Don't."
I let it ring.
It stopped.
A second later, someone outside the bedroom door whispered in my voice:
"It's okay. Police are here."
June buried her face against me.
The handle moved.
Locked.
My voice outside sighed.
Then it said, "What color is Pepper's collar?"
I felt June go rigid.
The voice answered itself.
"Blue."
There was silence for maybe ten seconds.
Then it whispered:
"See? I'm Elise."
I don't remember starting to cry, but I was crying when the real police announced themselves from downstairs.
The thing outside the bedroom door walked away.
Not ran.
Walked.
The police searched the entire house.
Doors and windows locked.
No one inside.
One officer found Pepper in the laundry room with the door shut.
Neither June nor I had put him there.
I stopped babysitting after that.
Megan called me a week later and apologized, which felt backwards.
They had installed cameras.
She asked if I wanted to see something.
I said no.
She sent it anyway.
The clip was from 10:17 that night.
Camera in the living room.
I am visible on the sofa watching television.
Pepper begins growling toward the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, a woman appears.
Me.
Same jeans. Same gray sweater. Same ponytail.
She leans around the corner and looks down at me.
She stays there for eleven seconds.
Then she notices the camera.
Her smile changes.
And she puts one finger to her lips.
Megan and Ross moved two months later.
I haven't spoken to them since.
But last week I received an envelope with no return address.
Inside was a drawing in purple crayon.
June's handwriting at the bottom said:
I told you she would learn.
The picture showed two women holding hands.
Both were labeled ELISE.
One had a normal smile.
The other had a row of small teeth drawn all the way across the bottom of her face.
On the back, in handwriting that wasn't June's, someone had written:
Blue.
DarkRecord editorial note: This is an original fictional submission-style horror story. The named submitter and events are fictional.
