Lily slid the plastic plate across the carpeted hallway, pushing it slowly beneath the narrow gap of the small wooden door. On the plate sat a toasted turkey sandwich, neatly cut into triangles. She pressed her face against the cold baseboard, listening to the tiny rustle of feet on the other side.

Lily: Eat fast today. Dad is downstairs fixing the air conditioner.

Voice Behind Wall: Is it raining outside yet, Lily?

Lily: No, it is hot. The sun is really bright today.

Voice Behind Wall: I wish I could see the sun.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs, pounding against the hardwood floor. Marcus appeared at the end of the suburban Dallas hallway, carrying a heavy red tool kit. He froze, his gaze locking onto his eight-year-old daughter kneeling by the wall.

Marcus: Lily? What are you doing down on the floor?

Lily: Nothing, Daddy. Just playing.

Marcus: Lily, who are you talking to?

Lily: The girl who lives in the wall.

Marcus stopped in his tracks, dropping his heavy wrench onto the floor with a loud metallic clatter. The house suddenly felt dead silent, save for the hum of the ceiling fan overhead. His daughter pointed her small finger directly at the wooden access door near the floorboards, her dark eyes completely wide and innocent.

Marcus: What did you just say to me?

Lily: She was hungry, Daddy. She likes the crust cut off.

Marcus pulled a small flashlight from his tool belt and clicked the button, sending a bright beam of light straight onto the dark wood. He stepped forward with high tension, his heart hammering against his ribs. Before he could reach the metal latch, rapid footsteps rushed down the corridor. Sarah came running out of the master bedroom, her face pale as snow.

Sarah: Marcus, stop! Leave it alone!

Marcus: Get back, Sarah! There’s someone inside our house wall!

Sarah: Please, Marcus! Don't open that door!

Marcus: Are you insane? Lily just fed someone through the floor!

Marcus grabbed the cold metal latch, unhooked the lock, and swung the narrow door open. The beam of light pierced into the pitch-black crawlspace, revealing a dusty floor covered in old blankets. Huddled in the far corner, pulling a pink quilt over her small frame, was a little girl who looked remarkably like Lily.

Voice in Wall: Daddy?

Marcus gasped, his knees buckling as he shone the flashlight beam slightly to the left. Resting against a wooden beam inside the dark space was a dusty black-and-white photograph. It showed Sarah holding two identical infant twin girls in a hospital bed eight years ago. Marcus turned his head slowly toward his trembling wife, his breath catching in his throat.

Marcus: You told me there was only one baby... You told me she died at birth!