My mother always warned me never to put my ear to the bathtub drain. Now I know why.

Looking back, it was such a strange thing to warn me against. What rational person would think to put their ear to the bathtub drain? 

Now, I understand. Kids aren’t rational. And being the curious child I was, something like that wasn’t out of the cards. 

But, naturally, Mom’s repeated warnings only made me want to try it. 

I asked her about it a lot, but each time she would always give me the same answer. 

“Because the boogeyman will reach up and grab you.”

I never believed in the boogeyman, but as a child, the thought of a gnarled, green hand snaking through the drain pipes to strangle me was too frightening to ignore. 

But as the years progressed, I got bolder. I stopped being afraid of the thing in the drain. 

That was my biggest mistake. 

Humans have fear for a reason. Fear keeps us alive. I should have given in to fear that day. Maybe if I had, none of this would be happening. 

***

I was eight years old when I found myself sitting there watching the water swirl down the drain. I was about to get out of the tub, but something stopped me. 

I don’t know what it was. A feeling, an urge, I’m not sure. But something told me to stay where I was. 

I stared at the drain, my mother’s words blaring in my head. 

Do not press your ear to the bathtub drain under any circumstances. Ever. 

The rebel in me knew what I had to do. 

I crawled up to the drain, dread gnawing at my insides. What was going to happen if I did this? Was Mom going to find out? 

I had to know. 

The only audible noises were the sounds of my dripping hair and my ragged breathing as I lowered my head to the drain. I pressed my ear against it, heart thundering in my chest. 

I didn’t expect anything to happen. 

But something did. 

“Hello?” 

A voice shattered the silence. I instinctively flew back, narrowly missing the faucet. 

I stared at the drain, waiting for something to happen. Hoping against all odds that nothing would. 

But then it returned. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” The voice was soft and quiet, barely above a whisper. But I heard it loud and clear. 

I was suddenly gripped by a cocktail of fascination and deep-seated terror. Though my brain screamed at me to leave, my curiosity won out. 

I crawled back to the drain and stared down the hole. It was pitch black. Endless in my child imagination. But otherwise non-threatening. 

“H-hello?” I called, my voice trembling. 

“Hi. What’s your name?” 

I hesitated. Was this okay? “I’m Allie… What’s yours?” 

“My name is Lillian.” 

There was a pause, tension seeping into the atmosphere. “Can I ask you something?” I said, throwing a quick glance to the door. 

“Sure.” 

“Why are you in my bathtub drain?” 

Lillian took a while to respond. I thought I might have made her angry. 

“I’m trapped in here.” 

My heart broke for her. There was another girl just like me stuck on the other end of the pipes. She must have been so scared. 

“Can I get you out?” 

Another pause. “No. Not yet.”

Mom’s footsteps outside the door made me freeze. “Allie? What’s taking so long in there? Dinner’s almost ready!” 

“I’m drying off!” 

I turned back to the drain. “I gotta go. See you later,” I whispered. 

Lillian didn’t reply. 

***

The next day, I again found myself in the bath. I hurried through my routine, washing up as fast as I could. Once the last of the water was gone, I pressed my ear to the drain. 

“Hello?” I said, blood pounding in my ears. 

“Hi Allie.” 

Part of me was relieved. A smaller part of me, the one that told me Mom was right, was terrified. 

I tried to find the words, but it was difficult. What do you even say to a voice in your bathtub drain? 

I didn’t have to find the answer. Lillian spoke first. 

“Is your Mommy gone?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. She scares me.” 

“She scares me too sometimes. Why doesn’t she want me to talk to you?” 

Lillian paused. 

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. So… what’s it like in there? Is it dark?” 

“Yeah. It’s really dark. All the time. There’s a little light that comes down, though. I can see you, but you’re really far away.” 

My breath hitched in my throat. Something about that unsettled me. I peered into the hole, trying to make out any discernable features, but I couldn’t see a thing. 

“I can’t see you. I-”

Mom threw the door open, a stack of towels in her hand. She locked eyes with me before placing the towels on the sink and marching over. 

“Allie, please, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is. Tell me you didn’t press your ear to the drain.” 

I snatched the towel I’d placed by the tub and scrambled to wrap myself up. “I didn’t! Uh.. some of my nail polish chipped off and I was washing it down there.” 

Mom’s shoulders loosened and I gave myself a pat on the back for my quick thinking. 

“Okay. It’s very important that you never put your ear to the drain. You know what will happen if you do.” 

I nodded before brushing past her and locking myself in my room. 

***

Despite Mom’s wishes, I spoke to Lillian every night. After my close encounter, I made sure to lock the bathroom door. 

I began to feel a sense of kinship with her. We were becoming fast friends. I found that I was looking forward to our nightly talks. 

Until one night when Lillian didn’t respond. 

Two nights went by. Then three. I was beginning to think that I had just imagined her. 

But then she returned. 

“Hello?” I whispered, my breath hitched. I didn’t expect a response, but that didn’t stop me from hoping for one. 

“Hi Allie.”

“Lillian! Where’d you go?” 

“I… went to the bad place… But I’m back now. Guess what?” 

My brows furrowed. The bad place? Lillian had never mentioned that before. I decided that it could wait. 

“What?” 

“I think I found a way to get out of your drain!” 

“Really?! How??” 

My heart pounded. Lillian sounded as excited as I was. 

“Come closer,” she whispered. I knelt down, my face inches from the drain. 

“Good. Now open your mouth.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Just do it.” 

A sense of dread nestled in my stomach. Something didn’t feel right. But nevertheless, I did as I was told. 

The moment I opened my mouth, something wet and slimy rocketed down my throat. I instantly pulled back, thrashing and kicking in the tub. I tried to scream, but the thing shooting from the drain blocked my airways. 

It looked like hair… A mess of black, soggy strands coated in grime. 

I tried to yank the thing out of my mouth. My hands squished the stringy mass, and I pulled with all my might. 

It wouldn’t budge. In fact, it managed to slither even deeper down my throat. 

My vision began to grow fuzzy and I felt my body getting weaker. The thing was cutting off my oxygen supply. I was suffocating. 

In a matter of seconds, I slumped back into the tub and everything went black. 

The next moments I could recall felt like a slideshow. 

First, an image of Mom screaming. Next, I was tied to my bed, constraints binding my hands and feet. Then Mom and a priest stood over me, splashing water into my face. 

It seemed like nothing more than a dream. But when I finally came to – really came to – I was certain that every bit of it was real.

Because the rope burns around my wrists were still there. 

***

Mom had always told me that the exorcism was successful. That they had fully eradicated the demon I’d known as Lillian. 

But now, I’m not so sure… 

It’s been fifteen years since the night I first put my ear to that bathtub drain. Recently, I’ve been experiencing random bouts of memory loss. Large chunks of time that are unaccounted for. 

I visited the doctor, afraid that it might be some kind of medical condition. He was stumped. 

But I think I know what’s causing this. The exorcism wasn’t a complete success. Lillian was just lying dormant.

Until now.