I wouldn't be kidding if I said that it had been the rest of the summer before anything went back to normal. Dad hadn't been to work for a few weeks. He'd hardly left his room for the first couple days. Terry hardly left his room either. I was never hungry. I didn't even bother making a plan on getting into the basement.

In time, Terry had made an attempt to take over for Mom, cooking and looking after me and trying to make Dad leave his room to eat something. Either Terry's been getting nicer, or he's given up on being... a jerk.

Dad didn't talk much. I'd hear crying from his room a lot. And every now and then, I'd hear a piano. Did Dad play the piano? Well, if he did and when he did, I'd sometimes sit outside his room and listen to the music.

But all at once, the grieving seemed to stop. Dad and Terry were both almost back to normal. Dad had even cut his hair, which took Terry a little too long to notice, even considering Dad's hair was always really long.

"Woah, holy crap," Terry exclaimed one night during dinner.

"What?" Dad asked.

"You chopped the ponytail off."

"Yes? And?"

"Oh. I just noticed," Terry mumbled before going back to picking at his food. "It looks nice. Better than whatever you had going on before."

"Thanks."

That was the only exchange that night.

"You two, stay where you are, because I need to talk to you," Dad told us a week or so later during dinner. "I have to go back to work tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot you had a job," Terry joked. Dad rolled his eyes. Terry hadn't lost his jerk-ness at all.

"Look, I'm going back to work and I want to make sure that I don't have to bring you both with me again."

"Again?" I asked.

"Yes, again," Dad sighed. "Long time ago, long story, you two hated it, and I don't want to do that again, but I'm not sure I can trust you two to be alone in the house with me gone."

"I think we'll be just fine," Terry said. "Mikey's always in his room, my friends have all left me and I have no job myself, I think we'll both be just fine." Dad looked to me for confirmation.

"Yeah. We'll be just fine," I echoed. Dad made a noise that was a mix of a whine and a groan, but sighed afterward and tried to act confident that this was a good decision.

"Alright, then!" He said. "Well, I trust you. Don't prove that I'm making a mistake."

"Gotcha, chief," Terry finished before hopping out of his chair and leaving to his room. Dad and I stood in silence for a minute.

"The basement," The voice I'd given to the clown girl repeated.

"No," I absentmindedly blurt out.

"I'm sorry?" Dad asked.

"Ah! Uh..."

"The basement."

"Someone's... talking to me," I waved off, trying to leave.

"Who?" Dad asked again.

"Uh, someone. Actually, I don't know."

"The basement!"

"What does it sound like?"

"I'm not sure, let me go talk to them..."

I tried to avoid Dad's questions as I escaped to my room, while "The basement" echoed in my head.

"Michael, go to the basement!" Liz cried as soon as I slammed the door.

"How do I even get in?" I shouted back. "Where is it? Who was talking to me before?"

"I was," Liz responded. "But Michael, you need to go to the basement. I'm there! You're there! You can see me!"

"Are you still alive?" I asked.

"No. Neither are you."

"Where is the basement?" I demanded.

"In the garage."

"Wait, really? I never saw anything."

"It's hidden too well. But I can help you find it."

"Really?"

"Of course! But you need to make sure Dad isn't home."

"Or else what?"

"I'll spare you that. But be careful."

"When am I supposed to?"

Liz was quiet for a minute.

"Well, considering Daddy isn't going to be home tomorrow..."

"Oh, yeah, you're right..." I thought out loud.

"I always am!" Liz giggled. "Good luck!" And she was gone. Well, I figured she was, because she didn't say anything. But I got lonely quickly.

"Hey, Liz?" I called out, hoping for an answer.

"Hm?" She wasn't gone.

"Uh, this one thing happened a while ago where my friend Rachel-"

"Wait, Rachel was talking to you?" Liz squealed.

"Uh, once. I'm not even sure it was her. But she... is it possible to give other people memories?"

"Their memories, probably. Why? Did that happen?"

"I think. It was the time I broke my arm."

"Oh yeah! She would remember that. She was there, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, and she gave me that memory and Mom kind of freaked out."

"Huh. That's weird. I have a memory for you. Do you want it?"

"Sure? What's it... about..."

Just then, I was hit with a disturbingly vivid memory of me or Liz I guess standing in front of the clown girl from my dream.

''I don't know why Daddy wouldn't let me come see you,' Liz had said. 'You're wonderful!' She looked around. The room was empty. 'Where did the other children go?' Liz looked up to the robot, whose eyes had turned black. Its stomach had opened, and where an ice cream cone had been replaced with a metal claw. It lunged out and tried to grab Liz. At the last minute, she tried to escape, but the robot had already acted, and a whole chunk of Liz's stomach had been ripped out. She fell to the floor. There was screaming. One of which I think was mine.

"That was when I died." Liz said, bringing me back to reality.

"Why did you show me that?" I forced out, curling over to grab my stomach which was, thankfully, still intact.

"I don't know." Liz answered. "It happened. I wasn't not sure why."

"You know now?" I asked, still weakly.

"Of course I do. I've been in the basement for a while. Oh, and Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes I'm not talking to you as me. Sometimes, Baby will talk to you, but it's still me. Okay?"

"Baby?"

"The robot that killed me."

"Baby is in the basement?"

"There's a lot of things in the basement. But yeah. We're there. I'll wake you up as soon as Dad leaves so you can check it out, okay?"

"Okay!" I agreed. Liz laughed again before I stopped hearing from her.

I decided to go to bed and a little early, and had a dream about the time I broke my arm, still how Rachel saw it. I looked a lot more pathetic than I had hoped.