What She Didn't Say

Content Warning:

This story contains references to childhood trauma, sexual abuse, and death.

Liam lay flat on the dusty floor, his ear pressed tight to better hear underneath.

At first, he thought it was his mom down the hall in the kitchen - packing plates and bowls into boxes - but then, it grew more insistent.

Urgent.

It started at the bedroom wall.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Liam frowned at the wall, pausing his game. He strained his ears to listen.

Mama said last night it was the pipes… That the house must’ve been lonely and glad someone’s back!

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Now, beneath the flooring.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Closer this time.

Those aren’t pipes…

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

He lay on the floor and held his breath, listening.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Right below his chest, reverting through his body. His heart stuttered. He froze, too scared to move. Too scared to scream.

There was breathing beneath the floorboards.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

His pulse hammered in his ears as the words slipped out, barely a whisper.

“Who… who’s there?”

A beat. Then - the small, broken cry of a girl.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The long gravel road jostles the car, making Jade curse under her breath and whisper, “My poor rims.”

The car’s slow crawl gave her time to take in the surroundings of her brother's ranch. She didn’t know which was her favorite part - the barn sagging against the sky, cows grazing near the fence line, ranch hands pitching hay into troughs, and acres upon acres of wheat bending with the wind. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Almost enough to forget why it felt wrong to be here.

Even the house looked perfect, all white siding and wraparound porch.

But she could never live here.

Wouldn’t have the money, let alone the time, she hurriedly tells herself.

“Mommy?”

She caught Liam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and forced a smile. “What’s up, bubby?”

“How come we never came to Uncle Brody’s before now?”

Her pulse quickened. “Um, well, he lived way across the country, remember? And we don’t come to Montana often. Plus, Uncle Brody was always too busy with the ranch.”

Liam frowned, staring out the window. Hiz gaze tracked something in the wheat before he looked back at her reflection.

“Why do we have to pack up his house? Why isn’t Aunt Brody helping?”

Jade laughed, a little too quickly. “Aunt Brody?”

“Yeah! Where is she?”

“No, bubby, he never got married. He…he was too busy with the ranch.”

“But he had a daughter,” Liam said softly, “Why isn’t she helping us?”

The world halted, and a faint ringing was in her head. Not loud enough to drive her mad, but enough to remind her.

Jade looks back at him, fingers tightened on the wheel, “Uncle Brody didn’t have a daughter, Liam.”

“Yes, he did.”

“No,” she says more sharply. “He didn’t.”

“Yes he did! Why don’t you ever listen to me!?”

Jade counted to ten in her head, forcing her hands to stay still on the wheel. “Why do you think that, bubs? Did you see a picture?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded. “In his room, I actually saw two on his night stand, and one looked like it came from the newspaper.”

The breath caught in her throat. She didn’t speak again until she pulled into the dollar store’s parking lot.

“Well,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt, “maybe I’m mistaken. You’ll have to show me when we get back.”

He nodded, already bouncing. “Okay! Hey, can we look for those Hot Wheels airplanes?”

“Of course,” she said, grateful for the subject change. “You go ahead and look while I grab what we need for spaghetti.”

“Yes!” He bolted ahead, and Jade followed, too lost in thought to notice that by the time they reached the checkout, the cart was full of snacks, cookies, and more than just Hot Wheels.

The cashier smiled at Liam as she scanned their items. “Well, you must’ve been a really good boy with all this stuff your mama’s getting you.”

“Yep!” he said proudly, grin stretching ear to ear.

Jade forced a smile back, but her attention drifted past the counter - to the corkboard behind the cashier.

In the center hung a photo of a young girl. Long brown hair. Deep brown eyes. A heart-shaped face clutching a faded purple hippo to her chest. For a moment, Jade thought she was staring at a picture of herself at that age.

The words beneath it were bold, impossible to ignore:

JUDY LYNN BOURGH - 8 YEARS OLD - LAST SEEN OCTOBER 1, 2024.

The rest blurred together.

Her stomach lurched.

“That’ll be eighty-seven ninety-eight,” the cashier said, pulling Jade’s gaze down to the register.

Jade blinked, nodded quickly, and held her phone to the reader. “That little girl… was she from around here?”

“Huh?” The cashier followed her gesture to the board. Her expression softened. “Oh…yes. Little Miss Judy. The whole town was heartbroken. She went missing after her brother’s football game last fall. Her mama let her go off with friends, but when they came back…”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

Jade’s pulse thudded in her ear as she stared at the stuffed hippo in the girl’s arms - purple, worn at the seams - and something in her chest twisted.

She’d had one just like it, once…

The ringing in her head grew louder.

It wouldn't stop. It felt like it only grew louder. She couldn't even remember driving back, only Liam’s voice from the backseat chattering about Roblox, his words slipping in and out of the static in her head.

She smiled when she was supposed to.

Laugh when he did, but…

That damn ringing.

Gravel crunched beneath her tires as she pulled into the drive. Ben sat on one of the rocking chairs, hand lifting in a wave when he spotted her. The look they shared said enough.

Exhaustion.

Grief.

An understanding that words could never say.

He stood, bounding down the steps with his easy smile - a dimple on his left cheek showing. His dark curls were tied back, and he moved with an ease that never matched his size.

For a moment, just seeing him steadied her.

The ringing subsided, a little.

“Daddy!” Liam’s seat belt is already off and throwing the door open. He has his newest airplane extended out for Ben to see.

He ruffles Liam’s hair, saying something Jade didn’t catch, and motions for Liam to head inside. Liam nodded and dashed up the porch steps. Ben watched him go, then turned to Jade, worry etched on his face.

He comes over to the driver’s side and opens her door, leaning against it. “You okay?”

Her mind raced. “Have… Oh god, I don’t even know where to begin-” her whole body shook, unable to keep her hands tight on the wheel any longer. Bile rose in her throat, and she felt like she was going to suffocate.

Ben reaches around and unbuckles her seatbeat, pulling her towards him.

She takes a moment, burying her head into his chest, inhaling his scent and listening to the thrum of his heart.

When she finally finds her composure again, she leans back in his arms and looks up into his face. “Have you seen any pictures of a little girl around his house?”

It’s so slight - and if it was anyone else, they would have missed it - a look of cold ire flashes in his eyes, but quickly composes himself. “I haven’t. Why?” his voice strained.

“At the store,” she started, voice shaking, “there was a picture of a little girl. She’s been missing for over a year. She looked just like me as a kid. Liam said he saw pictures of a little girl in Brody’s room.”

“Oh God, Ben…” Her mind reeled. “What if it was him?”

“Jade…”

“No, listen to me. You can’t rule out a possibility.”

Ben gently pushed her back, but kept his hands on her shoulders. “Jade, let’s just take a moment and think rationally.”

“Ben-”

“Honey, listen to me. Please.”

Her lips thinned, heat rising up her neck, but she relented and nodded.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Now, that poster - was it older?”

She nodded.

“Then think about it. If something happened, someone here would’ve noticed. The ranch hands are around all day - some even stay overnight in those trailers. You really think no one would’ve said anything? They’d have heard something, Jade. A scream, crying, anything.”

She looked away, embarrassment burning her cheeks. Why does he always have to be so sensible?

“Hey,” he murmured, tilting her chin toward him. “It’s okay to feel like this. After everything that happened… you have every reason to.” His breath wavered. “But I don’t think that’s what this is. Someone probably did take that little girl, but it wasn’t Brody.”

“But the pictures-” she whispered.

“They’re of you,” he said.

Her breath caught, the words slamming into her chest. A film of disgust coated her skin.

“I didn’t want you to see them,” Ben continued, voice low.” I had told Liam not to say anything, because they didn’t matter. But, you know him, he can’t shut up to save his life.”

She knew she was supposed to laugh, but her whole body didn’t feel like hers.

Just like when she was a kid.

“Do you want to set them on fire? That’d be fun. We could make s’mores out of it.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “Can we do the whole house? I’d definitely feel better then.”

Ben laughed, pulling her close. “Whatever you want, honey. As long as it helps.”

She smiled, tried to feel at ease, but the ringing was still there. The film of disgust weighed on her. She scrubbed her hands, her arms, her face - nothing helped. The grime clung. She could scrub herself raw and it wouldn’t lift.

The boys went to bed hours ago, but Jade stayed up, determined to finish packing before morning. If she boxed everything up, dropped it all off for donation, it’d be like Brody never existed. Then maybe she could put the rest of it - the guilt, the fear - in some far corner of her mind and leave it there forever.

A breeze brushed her shoulder. She froze, certain someone had passed behind her.

She turned. The room was empty.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The whole house went still.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

She forced herself to keep packing.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“Ben? Liam?” Her voice cracked.

The ringing started again - faint, then sharper.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

The sound came from farther down the hall. She stepped out, heart pounding.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Brody’s door. The knock shook the frame.

She knew she should call for Ben. But she didn’t.

“Who’s there?” she shouted. “I’ll call the police!”

Silence.

A breath, soft and cold, brushed her ear.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Jade froze.

The door creaked open. Inside: the bare room, the full-sized bed.

“I died on that bed,” the voice whispered. “You could have stopped that.”

The air shoved her forward. She hit the floor, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. The door slammed shut behind her.

She couldn’t breathe.

“I’ll never grow up. I never even kissed a boy. I’ll never have a family. Because you didn’t say anything.”

“I was a kid!” Jade sobbed, straining against the invisible weight. “I didn’t understand! I was scared - he was my brother and-” The words wouldn’t come. “I’m sorry. I should have told someone. Please… what can I do? Where are you?”

The pressure eased. A shadow stood at the edge of the bed, pointing down.

“I’m there,” the voice said. “I’ve always been under there.”

Jade’s gaze followed. A dark red stain was blooming through the floorboards, spreading toward her like it was alive. Horror rippled through her veins.

Her feet didn’t feel like her own. She swayed, hit the wall, then yanked the door open.

She tore down the hallway, tunnel-vision narrowing everything around her. Her breath came ragged, footsteps slamming against the wood.

Ben’s voice echoed from behind her. “Jade! What are you doing?”

She found the crowbar in a box of tools, gripping it tight. “She’s there!”

“Who?” Ben caught up, face pale.

“Judy!”

“Jesus Christ, Jade, she’s not-”

“Yes, she is!” She wrenched at the door, desperate. “Ben she’s there, I know it!”

He hesitated, the fight draining from his eyes. “Where?”

Relief flooded her. “Under the bed.”

Together, they shoved the bed aside. Ben wedged the crowbar between the boards. The wood groaned in protest as he pried. The plank lifted with a final crack, a cloud of dust bursting upward - as if the house itself exhaled years of guilt.

They coughed, waving the haze from their faces. When it cleared, Ben peered into the gap and went rigid. He bent down, reaching in.

Jade’s heart lodged in her throat. She couldn’t tell if she was relieved or terrified.

What he drew out, wasn’t what she expected.

A pale pink box, plastered with Lisa Frank, Barbie, and Little Mermaid stickers. Somewhere deep in her memory, she knew that box.

“I-” Ben looked up. “What is this?”

She stepped forward, hands trembling, and took it. Her name glittered across the lid in rhinestones, half missing. She opened it with shaking fingers. Inside lay a single envelope, her name scrawled across it.

“I can’t,” she whispered, handing it back. “I can’t read it.”

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded, tears spilling.

Ben unfolded the letter. His face gave nothing away, but his hands trembled, the paper shaking between his fingers.

“Dear Jade,

I wish I could go back in time, but the years don’t let me. They only circle.

As I’ve grown older, and watched your life from afar, guilt has eaten me alive. What I did was unforgivable. I took so much and can never give it back.

Please know I’m sorry.

I hope you’ve healed, that you can live a good life. Tell Ben I’m sorry he had to pick up the pieces I broke.

Goodbye, Brody.”

When he reached the last word, the house creaked - a low, sighing sound, as if it had been listening.

She waited for something…

Relief.

Sorrow.

Anything, but only the hollow stayed.

“Jade,” Ben said quietly. He had no words to give.

She wasn’t sure she did either.

Morning came pale and soft, spilling through the bare windows. The air smelled faintly of dust and hay.

Jade packed the last boxes while Ben loaded the truck outside. The rooms were almost empty now, stripped down to the bones of the house. For the first time, it felt lighter…

Or, maybe she did.

She couldn’t tell.

She crouched to tape one last box shut when her foot caught on something soft.

“Damn it,” she muttered, steadying herself. Then she looked down.

Half-hidden in dust lay a small purple hippo, its button eyes dull, the seams fraying along one ear.

Her breath caught.

She bent to pick it up, brushing off the dirt. The toy’s weight was wrong - heavier somehow, as if it remembered everything she’d tried to forget.

Behind her, the floor settled.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Jade closed her eyes. For once, she didn’t flinch.

“I know,” she whispered.

The house was silent again.

Outside, the wind moved through the wheat like a sigh.