“There were three reasons for this. First, I didn’t like that Dad hadn’t even looked at me when I said goodnight. Second, I was nervous about working at Helping Hands the next morning. And third, I kept hearing noises. Maybe they were the normal noises that happen at night, like the wind, and possums, and night birds. But even if that’s what was making those noises, every time I heard something, I imagined it was a person. A person living in the house next door. And that person had a face that I... couldn’t quite make out, and a beard, and dark shadows instead of eyes, and he didn’t smile. I also imagined that he might even have had crooked teeth and long, dirty fingernails for tapping on the glass of my bedroom window. I finally got to sleep when it was really, really late, and the next morning, when Mum woke me up by shaking me, it took me a few seconds to remember where I was. ‘You all right, Lizzie?’ she asked me. ‘You look pretty rough, my love.’ ‘I didn’t sleep very good,’ I told her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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