by Amy Cross
“So I think we're going to get off soon,” Dad says. “Doctor Wilder said we shouldn't stay for too long, we might tire you out, but we'll come again in a few days' time.”
Mum doesn't respond. She's still just staring out the window, barely even blinking.
“It can't get her in here, can it?” I whisper to Dad.
“What can't?”
“The Tenderling!”
“Cally, quiet!” Getting to his feet, he gestures for me to follow. “Come on, let's leave Mummy to have some time to herself.”
“When are we coming back to see her?” I ask.
“I don't know.”
“Saturday?”
“Maybe.”
Stepping over to Mum, I put a hand on her knee. “We're going to come back on Saturday,” I tell her. “I promise, more than I've ever promised anything in my life. So don't worry about being here by yourself, because we're coming, and we won't ever let the Tenderling get you again. Maybe even sooner than Saturday, but...” Pausing, I don't know what else to say, so finally I just lean closer and kiss the side of her cold, pale face. I wish she'd kiss me back, but I understand that maybe she can't right now.
“We should go,” Dad says.
“Remember,” I tell Mum, “if you can't be brave, then pretend!”
“Come on,” Dad continues, taking my hand and starting to lead me away.
I glance over my shoulder and see that Mum still hasn't moved.
“You okay?” Dad asks.
I nod.
“If you need to -”
“Cally!” Mum screams suddenly.
Turning, I see that she's running toward us. Grabbing my arm, she pulls me away from Dad and wraps her arms tightly around me, so tight that I feel as if I might burst.
“Julie -” Dad starts to say.
“You can't take her back there!” she shouts, squeezing me even tighter. “Leave her here with me! You can't take her back to that house and that thing!”
Dad reaches out for me, as several men in white shirts come hurrying over. One of them is fiddling with a syringe, getting it ready to use.
“You can't ever take her back into that house,” Mum continues, leaning closer to me until I can feel the tears on her cheeks. “Neither of you can go back. It'll get you both, it'll -” Suddenly she screams, and I feel the white-shirted men pulling her away. Turning, I see that she's starting to fall asleep, and one of the men is pulling a needle out of her arm. I think they found a way to make her sleep.
“Come on,” Dad says, sounding shocked, as he picks me up and starts carrying me out of the room.
“Mummy!” I shout, reaching out to her, but it's no use. Dad takes me through the swing doors and back out into the corridor.
***
Sitting in the waiting room, I keep my eyes fixed on the door ahead, waiting for Dad to come back and fetch me.
Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting and waiting and waiting.
I don't know what's taking him so long. He just went through to talk to the doctor about what happened with Mum, and then he was supposed to come back out and talk to me, but he's been gone for almost forty minutes now and I'm still just sitting here.
Eventually, the door squeaks open and Dad comes out. I get to my feet, but he lets the door swing shut behind him, which is odd since you need a special key to get through.
“I'm sorry,” he says, looking and sounding exhausted, “but, um, I think we'll have to come back another time.”
“No,” I reply, slipping past him and pressing the button on the wall, “I want to see her again. I want to make sure she's okay.”
“It's not a good time.”
“Why not?”
“It's just...” He pauses. “Damn it, this is my fault. I knew it was a bad idea to bring you, but the doctor said it might help, and I guess I just...” His voice trails off, as if he's lost in thought.
“I just want to see her again!”
“Not right now,” he replies, reaching out and taking my hand. “We'll have to be a bit more careful about when we come.”
“Why can't I see her right now?”
“I told you, she's sleeping.”
“But we're coming back on Saturday, aren't we?”
“I don't think so.”
“But I promised!”
Turning to him, I realize that he's got the same drained look in his eyes that I remember Mum having last week.
“She's going to be okay, isn't she?” I ask after a moment. “They're not going to hurt her and take out her brain and put cotton wool in, are they?”
“Cotton wool?” He frowns. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”
“Can't I at least see her?” I ask, as we head back along the corridor. “Even if she's asleep?”
“Best not,” he replies. “Come on, it's a long drive home and I don't know about you, but I'm tired.”
“We can't sleep in the house tonight,” I remind him. “Not with the Tenderling -”
“Cally -”
“It'll get us!” I continue. “You saw the book! You heard what she said! It's all true and -”
“Shut up!” he shouts suddenly, stopping and turning to me. “Just shut up, okay?” He stares at me for a moment, before turning and walking away, then stopping again, coming back, and crouching down to hug me. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, holding me tight. “Cally, I'm so sorry, you know I didn't mean that, right?”
With tears in my eyes, I stare back at the door to the ward where they're keeping Mum.
“It's okay,” I tell him finally. “I think I know how to make sure it won't hurt us tonight.”
Later, when we get home, the first thing I do is carve the name Tenderling into the door above every room.
Chapter Twelve
Dad's snoring next to me, but I'm forcing myself to keep my eyes open. I'm tired and I want to sleep, but none of that matters right now. All that matters is that I don't fall asleep.
With a kitchen knife in one hand and a torch in the other, I'm sitting on the pillow, watching the dark room. From what I read in the book earlier, it seems like Tenderlings are only really dangerous when their victims are asleep. I can't stop Dad from sleeping, but I can make sure that the creature doesn't get a chance to hurt him. After all, it only managed to paralyze me last night once I fell asleep, so the answer is to stay completely awake all night, right through to dawn.
I won't let it win.
So far, there's no sign of the Tenderling anywhere, but I'm certain it's around. It's probably watching us right now from the shadows, waiting for me to go to sleep, but I keep pinching myself every few minutes to make sure that I stay awake. From what the book said, I figure the Tenderling is still draining Dad, but at least it can't come and put more pebbles under his skin. Once he wakes up in the morning, I'll try to find another way to make him see the truth. Right now, however, all I can do is make sure I keep him safe.
So I wait.
Watching the darkness.
Listening to the silence.
No matter how tired I feel, I can't let myself fall asleep. When even pinching my arm doesn't seem to work any longer, I start biting my bottom lip, hoping that the added pain will be enough. That approach works for a while, but eventually I have to open the drawer of the bedside table and quietly root through for something else I can use. Finding one of Mum's earrings, I examine the pointed part for a moment before figuring that this is my best bet. Taking a deep breath, I start digging the sharpest part into the side of my neck, hard enough that I let out a faint gasp. The pain is worse than anything I've ever felt before, and I settle back against the headboard so I can resume my work, protecting Dad.
I can do this.
The pain starts to ease, so I dig the earring harder into my neck.
The pain returns.
But of course it fades again after a few minutes.
I push the earring harder.
This has to work.
I
can't let the Tenderling get Dad.
Suddenly I realize my head has dipped forward. Sitting up straight, I look around and find that the bedroom is now bright, with sunshine streaming through the window. Stunned, I look at the other side of the bed, but there's no sign of Dad. The earring is on the sheets, and I finally realize that I must have dropped it and dozed off. Jumping off the bed, I race out of the room and onto the landing, before hurrying to the bathroom.
“Dad!” I shout, convinced he'll be in there. Pushing the door open, however, I find that there's no sign of him. For a moment, I'm filled with panic. What if the Tenderling came and took him in the night?
Turning, I check my bedroom before running down the stairs.
“Dad!”
Spotting the front door, I realize that something seems different, with the latch having apparently been switched around. I hurry into the front room, where the curtains have been taken down, and then I run into the kitchen, where I finally find Dad working on the back door with a screwdriver.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking up at the clock and seeing that it's almost nine. “I'm late for school!”
“You're not going today,” he replies, continuing to screw something into another new latch. “I'm keeping you home.”
“Why?” I ask, picking my way through all the boxes and other items he's spread out on the floor. As I get closer, I see that there's a bandage around Dad's hand, with a hint of blood showing through. “Dad, what happened?”
“Nothing,” he mutters, dropping the screwdriver and checking the door-handle, which seems to be locked. “There,” he adds, getting to his feet and turning to me. “I got up early and fixed the entire house. All the doors and all the windows can now only be opened using a key. It's the most advanced home security system on the market.”
I stare at him for a moment.
“It's for safety,” he continues, his eyes looking more tired than ever. “I had these really crazy dreams last night, Cally, about people breaking in and... Well, it can't hurt to keep things a little more secure, can it? Especially after all this Tenderling nonsense, I'm worried maybe someone's playing a practical joke on us.”
“Dreams?” I whisper, stepping past him and taking a look at the large new lock on the door. “You're sealing us in. That's what it wants...”
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, patting me on the head as he heads to the fridge. “I snuck out to the supermarket earlier, while you were asleep. We've got enough supplies to last a week.”
“You left me here alone?” I ask, turning to him.
“You were perfectly safe. Don't worry, I made sure of that.” He pulls some bacon out of the fridge, along with a handful of eggs. “You can't play outside for a while, though. Inside play only.”
“It wants us to stay in here,” I reply. “Don't you get it? It's giving you bad dreams so you get scared, so you do all this!”
He smiles. “Still going on with that nonsense, are you?”
“Daddy, we have to leave!” I hiss, running over and grabbing his arm. “You saw the book!”
“Yep, and I read most of it too. It's quite the fantasy.”
“It's all true!”
“Remind me to burn the damn thing later,” he continues, cracking eggs into the frying pan. “I'll call the hospital after breakfast and see how your mother's doing. Hopefully she had a better night.”
“And then we can go and see her?”
“Not today. We'll wait until the weekend at least.”
As the eggs and bacon start sizzling, I make my way back through to the hallway. The house feels so calm and quiet, but I feel like the Tenderling creature is definitely causing Dad to act this way. Heading up the stairs, I reach the landing and look around, trying to work out where it might be hiding.
“Tenderling?” I whisper. “Where are you?”
Silence, apart from the sound of Dad cooking and humming downstairs.
Making my way along the landing, I suddenly notice the door to the attic, and that's when I remember the scratching sounds I heard up there before. I've never been to the attic. I think Mum and Dad put a few things up there once before, but it's totally possible that they didn't notice something important. Grabbing a chair, I position it directly below the attic hatch and climb up. I can barely reach, but with a little work I'm able to use my fingertips to push the hatch open.
“Hello?” I whisper. “Are you up there?”
I stare at the square hole, with nothing but darkness on the other side.
“Please stop hurting us,” I continue, hoping against hope that the Tenderling is up there, and that it's listening to me. “I'll do anything, but please leave us alone.”
I wait.
Silence.
“Mum's in hospital because of you,” I tell the Tenderling, “and Dad's going to end up there too, or worse. And then I don't know what you'll do to me, but...” I pause, trying to work out how I can convince it to leave us alone. Finally, I remember that the book said Tenderlings are shy and cowardly, so I realize I should pretend to be brave. “I'm not scared of you,” I continue. “I could beat you easily.”
Again, nothing but silence from the attic.
“I -”
I pause, not really sure how to go on. I want to climb down, but I'm worried the Tenderling would interpret that as me being scared. I need to prove my point. Plus, the book said that some Tenderlings run away at the first sign of confrontation.
Some, but not all.
“Please don't hurt me,” I whisper, “please, please...”
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself before jumping up and grabbing the edge of the square space, and finally I haul myself through. Struggling to keep hold, I look around at the dark attic, waiting for some hint that the Tenderling might be up here. After all, if I can make it think I'm not scared, maybe it'll leave us alone.
If I can't be brave, at least I can pretend.
“Hello?” I whisper again, looking at the darkness all around me.
Silence.
I still have the knife and the torch, so I hold the knife out to protect myself as I switch the torch on and shine the beam of light around the attic. I was right, there are some packing cases up here and a few old boxes, although most of the attic is pretty empty. Making sure to only walk on the beams, I step forward carefully, while constantly looking around for any sign of the creature. If it's here, I hope it believes my attempt to look brave. I hope it can't tell that I'm terrified.
Finally, just as I'm about to turn and go back, I spot something in the far corner. It's not a creature, but it looks like a pile of dirt and paper. As I get closer, I realize that various pieces of trash have been pulled together, almost like some kind of nest.
I shine the torch back across the attic, to make sure that I'm alone, before kneeling next to the trash and reaching down. I pick up an old piece of paper, which turns out to be some kind of form with the name David Madison written on the top in faded biro. Under that, there are some crumpled photos, and when I take a look at them I realize that some of them show Mary Madison. It's as if the Tenderling took things from the family and used them to make a nest up here. Reaching down to pick up some more papers, I find that the main part of the nest is covered in a kind of thick slime, so I pull my hand back and wipe it on my nightshirt. Smelling my hand, I'm immediately grossed out when I realize that it stinks of mucus and other horrible things.
“Cally!” Dad shouts from the kitchen. “Breakfast's ready!”
I want to stay up here and explore some more, but I figure I need to plan my next move carefully. Turning, I start to make my way back out of the attic.
***
“Is it okay if I go outside later?” I ask as we eat breakfast. “I want to play on the lawn.”
“Not today.”
“But if -”
“Not today, Cally,” he continues, cutting up some more food on his plate. “I told you. You can play inside.”
“But I wan
t to -” Pausing, I realize I shouldn't tell him that I want to go and speak to Joseph. Dad doesn't like Joseph, and I feel like he'll make me stay inside for even longer if he thinks that's who I want to see. Still, I need to tell someone about what I found in the attic, and somehow I feel as if Dad isn't on my side anymore.
***
While Dad's busy working in his office, I sneak to the back door and try to work out how to open the lock. I know he said there's a key, but I figure there might also be some kind of extra catch.
“Busy?” he asks suddenly.
Turning, I see that he's standing in the hallway outside his office, watching me.
“I was just -”
“Go and play in the front room,” he continues, “or your bedroom. Anywhere in the house is fine, just not outside.”
“But we're going outside on Saturday, aren't we?”
“No. Why?”
“Because I promised Mum that we'd go and see her.”
“We'll...” He pauses. “We'll think about that closer to the time. Cally, just do as you're told, okay?”
With that, he turns and heads back into his office, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen. I don't think he's going to take me to see Mum on Saturday. I think the Tenderling is making him not want to go anywhere ever again.
***
“When dealing with a Tenderling,” I whisper, reading from the book as I sit on my bed, “it's important to tread carefully. A panicked Tenderling will either run away or, more likely, decide to kill its prey early.”
I pause for a moment, thinking back to my trip up into the attic. I was trying to show the Tenderling that I'm not scared, but now I'm worried I just made it start to panic.
“One helpful analogy is to think of the Tenderling as an addict,” I continue. I don't know what an analogy is, but I understand what it means about an addict. “The victim will quickly start to feel the effects of the Tenderling's activities, but will be unlikely to know what to do.”
Looking over at the door, I suddenly feel as if the creature was out on the landing a moment ago, watching me. It knows I'm onto it.
