I sneaked into Sybil’s room. She said I was in danger.

Our foster mother, Janie, said it was my imagination. “You’re crazy,” she said. “Sybil’s not talking to anybody.”

“Wasn’t us that killed her,” said Janie’s husband.

“Did her own self in,” said Janie. “She’s dead.”

They’re lying, Sybil whispered.

Rita Riebel Mitchell writes in the Pinelands of South Jersey. Her work appears in Flash Fiction Magazine, Versification, Black Hare Press, 101 Words, and others. Find her at FridayMicro.com.