The little girl was consumed by fear. She had no idea what was happening. Her memories held only the first car accident, the pain of being shoved against the car door by Mrs. Zhao the second time, and the agony of being strangled to death by her the last time. She also remembered the way her parents had looked at her. Their eyes had frightened her. All she wanted was to run, to run as fast as she could. Even plunging into the darkness she usually feared felt safer than staying in the brightly lit car with her parents.
She ran until the car's headlights were out of sight, then stopped and began to weep softly.
Wiping her tears, she walked on slowly, glancing back now and then as she murmured about her grandparents on both sides. Her parents could no longer be relied on. The people dearest to her were her grandparents.
I felt sorry for the girl and sympathized with what she had been through. But she had become a ghost, and I didn't know how to help her pass on. All I could do was follow silently behind her.
I reached out to pat her on the head, but my hand touched nothing.
The girl walked a little farther, and headlights appeared up ahead.
I had a bad feeling.
The girl froze for a moment, then suddenly grew excited and ran toward the car, skipping and hopping.
She hoped she could be saved. She knew she had to find someone to help her get home. For a moment, the faces of her parents even surfaced in her mind. She hoped they would come to their senses, leave that awful Mrs. Zhao behind, and let her back into the car.
The car stopped when it was a little