Even As We Breathe. Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle

worker placed themselves. I would know how many steps stood between each human being and myself and which ones noticed my existence. I would note every beautiful woman and each serious-faced man clutching her. I would notice their almost carefree children stumbling after them. I would notice who noticed whom. Which men looked at which women. Which adult looked at which child and how they looked at him or her. The whispered rumors of the missing children still tortured my thoughts, so I made sure to notice. And while I’d never consider my will or strength that of a hawk, I could surely scare off an annoying crow flying solo.

      Ten minutes before Essie’s meeting time, I lay motionless on my tiny brass-framed bed, staring at the planked ceiling. I wondered about Essie. How could a girl be both a master fisherman and grammar prude? How could she speak so boldly to men in uniform and seek out secrets in new forbidden places? How did she arrive with such assurance on her very first day when I was still too cautious to even enter the main building willingly? I thought about the children I saw on the property and how they, too, played freely as if they weren’t caged between swaths of barbed wire and military khaki—about a little girl with a purple ribbon in her hair who smiled at me each time I passed, acknowledging our shared space.

      I was bored and anxious and could not imagine Essie wandering the halls of the inn alone. Surely she has no idea what she is about to do. At that thought, I bolted up and slipped out the door before anyone could notice.

      “You came,” she whispered as I crouched down beside her at the cellar door just outside the entrance to the lobby.

      “I couldn’t let you go by yourself, now, could I?”

      “We’ll see how brave you are when we get inside. Don’t rush it,” she coached. “Remember what they say; good things come to those who wait.” Her smile inspired every imaginable obedience in me except the deference to wait. I watched as she inhaled and walked through the doors.

      How someone from such a very different place could feel such a right to go where and when she pleased, I did not know. I still really don’t know to this day where Essie’s wellspring of certainty came from; but wherever that place is, it must have transferred from her fingertips to me, because I did exactly as she instructed, took my own deep breath, and walked into the inn like I had every right to be there.

      I tried not to run as I chased after Essie, up the staircase and into her hidden corner of this mysterious estate. Unsure if she was leading us into a wonderland-style dream or a nightmare, I followed with every ounce of courage I could muster. I tried to slow my pace, to assure her that I was only there for her protection, but my mile-wide eyes and breathlessness surely gave me away.

      The steps trembled beneath me as the shrill wail of a siren swept down the narrow passageway. I’d never heard such an alarm. I slid down the wall and sat on a step, certain that I would soon be met by a host of guards. My head dropped onto my knees.

      “Come on!” Essie bounded back down the stairs and tugged at my arm. “What are you doing?”

      “Don’t you hear that? They must know—”

      “Of course they don’t. It’s probably just some drill. Listen. Do you hear anyone coming?”

      “No. But what if there’s a fire or something?”

      “Get up now.” Essie shot me a warning and bounded, two steps at a time, up the stairwell. I had no other choice. I stood and ran after Essie as quickly as my body would allow.

      We slipped behind the hall’s final corner in unison. Doubting I could have found my way alone, I was positive that I could now not leave without her navigation.

      Before us was a door. Just a door, no different from any other in the hall. Essie was right. There were no longer brass numbers like on the other doors, just faded wood outlining 447. Essie held up the key. I turned and craned my neck around the corner to confirm no one else was in the hall.