The little girl was speaking slowly to the Psychologist (who was taking notes rapidly) and choosing her words haltingly.
It was obvious to the policemen nearby that she was upset, shaken and trying to cope with her distress.
"My Uncle took me to live with him when my parents died in the plane crash. He bought my clothes, cooked my meals and made sure I had games to play, Tv to watch and any dolls or toys I asked for."
She stopped momentarily...as if to sift her thoughts around. Taking a sip of Coke from the plastic cup the officer had given her she continued.
"My Uncle was never really angry with me. But, he made sure I understood one thing above all others. He made me repeat it every single day. He had me answer him when he asked the question: 'What is it you must never, ever do?'
And, I always answered correctly: "I must never open the cellar door."
The psychologist glanced up briefly. She was in her forties with her hair pulled back in a brownish bun. Her glasses reflected light from the table lamp as she squinted at the little girl's eyes...so sad...distant...forlorn.
"I worked a lot of thousand piece picture puzzles and sang to myself. That didn't bother Uncle Ken at all. I played the TV loud sometimes. He didn't complain. Off he'd go to work each morning after breakfast. But, before he left and as soon as he returned he'd ask the question and I'd have to look him straight in the face and give the right answer:
'Did you open the cellar door today?' and I'd tell the truth: "No sir. I'm not supposed to and I didn't."
The policeman excused himself from the room and quietly slipped out leaving the door ajar. The Psychologist craned her neck to the left and peered down the hall of the Police station. Two offices away the Interrogation was getting under way. The Uncle was facing away and shaking his head at every query the Detective made of him. A passing cop pulled the door shut and it grew silent in the room with the little girl. She was staring out the window with a quzzical expression.
"Go on. Continue please..."
The girl took another sip and cradled the can in her lap. "Okay. Umm....it was the sound of voices that made me do it. It really was. It was kids. Sometimes I could hear kids. They were talking on the other side of that door. It was a big heavy green door. I could hear them just on the other side. I can't explain it--except to say--I was....I HAD TO SEE who they were and what they were doing....ya know?"
"Did you ask your Uncle who they were?
"Sure. He'd tell me not to worry about it. It was just my imagination."
"Imagination?"
"Yes. I knew it wasn't. I figure out--he was, um..not telling me the truth."
The Psychologist clicked her ballpoint pen and placed it squarely on the desktop. She wanted to give full attention to the words that were starting to come rapidly from the little girl's pale lips. The angelic face was almost the color of paper. Unhealthy and dry.
"Go on..."
"Sure. Today I heard crying. The crying on the other side of that door really got to me! I could feel my heart beating so loud--I was so close and yet----I knew I must NEVER OPEN THE CELLAR DOOR!"
The plastic cup was empty now. The little girl picked up the Coke can and emptied the rest into her cup and gulped it down hard.
"Then, the crying got quieter...until I couldn't hear anything. It made me so sad. So sad I wanted to scream something. But, I didn't. I took a deep deep breath and marched right over to that big heavy green door."
The Psychologist was digging her nails into her own palms tensely.
"The Cellar door?"
"Yes. The Cellar door."
The room swelled with silent foreboding. Quiet. Empty. Until the little voice began again...
"I grabbed the big heavy door handle and pushed and pushed and kicked and screamed as loud as I could...."
The silence rushed in.
"What happened then?"
"I--it....the cellar door creaked open! It was OPEN! I opened the big heavy green cellar door! I had opened it! At last!"
The Psychologist could hardly contain herself. She reached across the desk and cupped the little face in her hands as she spoke urgently.
"And then--?"
The girl's face filled with a briliant smile.
"I could see it! I could see the blue. The beautiful blue! The light..the clouds...trees---EVERYTHING! I could see OUTSIDE!"
The Detective walked in to whisper in the Psychologist's ear. She nodded and spoke one word. "Yes."
The burly policeman softly touched the little girl on the shoulder. "C'mon sweetie. Let's get you a snack. You must be hungry."
The two of them made their way to the door. The little girl turned and beamed the most wonderful smile ever seen in that office.
"It is so much more beautiful!"
The Psychologist cocked her head slightly as if to question. "What is--sweetheart?"
"OUTSIDE!" she chirped and the door closed firmly behind her.
The Psychologist reached for the Kleenex box and began weeping in heavy sobs.
--The End---