Something Happened

by Brandy Isaacs

  “Parents aren’t perfect. Not even when we get to practice from the beginning and grow into it. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t expect you to be perfect.”

  “I’m just—I’m just afraid that I’ll do…the wrong thing.”

  “What were you supposed to do in this case?”

  “I don’t know. More?”

  “You talked to Beckett’s teacher, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You tried talking to Beckett?”

  “Yes.”

  “You told her therapist?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You followed up with her teacher?”

  “Yeah.”

  “OK, what else could you have done?”

  “Beckett said she didn’t want to go back. I made her.”

  “So you were supposed to let her drop out of the second grade?”

  “No. But—but, maybe I could have transferred her to a different school?”

  “And what about when she encountered bullies there? Were you going to send her to another school?”

  Rion didn’t answer. She knew that the question was mostly rhetorical. So, fear is normal for parents. But, what if I’m more afraid than normal? What if I’m was so afraid I make the wrong decision trying to be too cautious? Or over compensate for being too cautious and become too callous. Rion wanted to scream and stamp her feet and throw herself on the floor.

  “Look,” Chambers continued. “Like I said, think it over. Go to the parenting class I gave you the information on. If, by next week, you still think you can’t do this. I’ll start the process then.”

  After a while, Rion nodded. “OK.”

  “It looks like you have supportive friends. Let them. If they are here for you, don’t take it for granted.”

  Rion felt the corners of her mouth turn up a little. “I will.”

  Shep and Kerry must have been waiting to hear Chambers leave because the woman barely made it down the stairs before they were knocking on Rion’s door.

  “What happened?” Shep asked as she let them in?

  Rion related the conversation. “See,” Kerry told her, spinning her hair around her finger. “You’re doing your best. That’s all that anyone can ask.”

  Rion didn’t argue or agree. She needed time to think.

  “Is anyone hungry?” Shep changed the subject.

  “I’m starving!” Kerry proclaimed.

  “I think this day calls for pizza.”

  “God! Yes!” Kerry agreed.

  Not feeling up to cooking, Rion agreed. While Shep ordered, she checked on Rion. “Are you hungry,” she asked sitting on the edge of the bed. Beckett, of course, didn’t answer. What the hell do I do if she doesn’t eat? Rion pictured doctors and feeding tubes and hoped like hell it didn’t come to that.

  Kerry and Shep did their best to distract Rion while they ate. Once they were done and Shep had cleaned up the kitchen before he and Kerry made their exit. Kerry yawned and stretched. “I’m exhausted. And I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Good night,” Rion told her. Shep was bagging up trash and she had a feeling he was stalling. Especially when Kerry winked at her before closing the door. Her stomach tightened. Shep left the trash in the can and paused for a moment. “We really are here for you, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say it like you believe it.”

  With more conviction, Rion nodded. “You guys are here for me” she said, not looking at him.

  “Thank you.” He fiddled with the drawstrings on the garbage bag. “You need a break.”

  “From what?”

  “From…from not having fun.” Rion stopped breathing and Shep continued. “I don’t think Kerry works on Sundays,” he said to the garbage. “Let’s grab dinner. Or a movie. She can keep an eye on Beckett.”

  Rion forced herself to take a breath. She wanted to say no, but she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings. She didn’t have many. She had never wanted any really. But, now that she had them, she realized she was glad for them. Surprisingly, she felt anger clench her jaw. Why did Shep have to complicate things? She took so long to answer that Shep eventually cleared his throat and hurriedly pulled at the trash bag.

  “Sorry. I-just-I shouldn’t have…” The bag had suctioned itself to the sides of the trash can and he shook it.

  “Shep. It’s just a really bad time.”

  “Of course! Oh, please, I shouldn’t have asked. You’ve got so much going on—it was rude of me—”

  “It wasn’t.” It was.

  “Maybe when things settle down?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. His face and neck were flushed but he gave her a small smile.

  “Yeah. Sure. Maybe.” She regretted saying it as soon as she did. Especially when she realized she kind of meant it. It only took a few seconds of imagining being out to dinner with Shep for her to not totally hate the idea. And it made her angrier.

  Shep finally freed the bag and grinned at her. “Awesome.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “What?”

  “Take the trash out.”

  “I don’t mind.” As he passed her, he paused. Rion held her breath again. Shep looked at her for a moment. “I’m going to hug you now,” he said.

  Rion was so caught off guard, she couldn’t figure out how to say no. “Oh-OK.”

  He reached out with one hand. The hand that held the garbage was extended to keep the bag away from them both. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. When her head was against his chest, she surprised herself by relaxing. Shep let go of her a moment later. A moment before she became uncomfortable. “Thank you,” he smiled at her before turning and walking out the door.

  “What the hell?” Rion whispered to herself, unsure of who she was even asking.

  The nap she had taken didn’t do much to refresh her. She checked on Beckett again and sighed. She pushed the door open far enough for her to stick her head in and nearly jumped in surprise. Instead of staring blankly at the wall, Beckett was sitting up staring—wide eyed—at the door.

  “Are you OK?” Rion asked her, breathlessly.

  Slowly, Beckett shook her head. Rion rushed inside and sat in front of the kid. Tentatively, she placed her hands on her tiny shoulders. “What can I do?”

  “Don’t get rid of me.”

  Rion’s heart ripped in half. “Did you hear me and Chambers talking?” Beckett nodded slowly. “Oh. I’m sorry about that.” Rion struggled to explain herself. “I don’t want to—I don’t want you to live anywhere else. But…I don’t want to hurt you either. I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know…I don’t know if I’m what you need.” It felt good to be honest with the kid.

  Beckett stared at her for a few moments. Her eyes were wide and watery. Her dark brown iris looked like melted chocolate. “You are what I need.”

  Rion’s heart sewed itself back together. She tried to respond, but gulped air as a dry sob bubbled up. “So, you want to say here—with me.” Beckett nodded. “OK. I promise—I will not let Chambers send you away without a fight. But you have to help me.”

  The kid’s tiny eyebrow drew together. “How?”

  “You—you have to tell me what’s going on. Tell me what happened.”

  Beckett’s lips twitched. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know…”

  Rion sighed. “Will you try?”

  Beckett thought for a moment. “OK,” she nodded.

  It’s a start. “Will you try to get some sleep tonight?” She barely finished the sentence before Beckett was shaking her head so hard her hair fanned out from her head. “But—”

  Beckett stopped shaking her head and interrupted her. “I can’t sleep.”

  “Why?”

  The kid studied Rion for a moment. “It’s different now.”

  Rion felt the weight that Beckett gave the words. “What’s different now?” The kid's words ra
ised the hair on the back of her neck.

  “It is.”

  “What’s it?”

  “Not what. Who.”

  “What do you mean?” Rion’s heart pounded in her throat.

  “It’s different now. I don’t think I can stop it anymore.”

  “Stop what?”

  “The darkness.”

  Darkness as a noun—not as an adjective. “What’s the darkness?”

  “Who!” Beckett insisted.

  Rion swallowed. “Who is the darkness?” She felt light headed.

  “I don’t know,” Beckett cried, the unshed tears finally spilling down her face. “I don’t know—but it wants to hurt.”

  “Hurt who?” Rion croaked.

  “Everyone.”

  Every hair on Rion’s arms stood on end and her bones went hollow. “What?” Her throat was dry and the word scraped out in barely more than a whisper.

  Beckett seemed to realize she’d said too much. She shook her head again, but not hard enough to make her hair spin. Her eyes were still huge, leaking pools but her chin was thrust forward defiantly. Rion swallowed and tried to control her breathing. She was the adult. She needed to stay calm. She couldn't let a child's imagination scare her. “Beckett…why-what wants to hurt everyone?” She tried to slog through the child's words, searching for the real story. Beckett shook her head again. She had said “it.” The “darkness” wanted to hurt everyone.

  Rion tried to think of a logical explanation. What could a child turn into a dark...thing...that wanted to hurt people? A heavy weight settled over Rion’s heart. “Do you mean your—you mean our father?” Beckett took long enough to respond that she began to believe she was right. Before she could feel relieved, Beckett shook her head again. Rion ran a hand over her mouth, suppressing a sigh. “What is the darkness?” Beckett shook her head again. “Who is the darkness?” Rion tried again. Beckett still stared at her. “Is the darkness your mother?” Beckett shook her head.

  Rion took several deep breaths while staring at the bed. She closed her eyes and struggled to find a way to get to the bottom of what the kid was talking about—a way to solve the puzzle that was Beckett. When she raised her head, Beckett’s eyes were still fixed on her. “Are you the darkness?” she asked, carefully keeping her voice soft and kind. Beckett quickly shook her head. “Why can’t you tell me what the darkness is?”

  Beckett’s voice was tiny, barely more than a whisper. “It will hear you.”

  Rion's skin prickled. Beckett was so convinced, so terrified, that she struggled against the return of her own childhood fears. The dark. The monster under the bed. If she didn't get her rational brain working she was going to be sleeping with the light on.

  “Is it here now?” She decided to play along in hopes that Beckett would tell her more. She hoped to, at least, assuage the kid’s fear long enough for her to get some sleep. Beckett glanced around the room and she was so intent that Rion had to force herself not to look too. Beckett shook her head. “Well, that’s good. Can we keep it away?” Beckett thought for a long moment before speaking.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it always here?”

  “No.”

  “Why does it come?”

  “Because it wants to. Because I’m sleep.”

  Is Beckett aware of her sleepwalking? Could she be stuck in some half-awake state and realize when she was sleepwalking but not be able to understand what was happening? Some of the tension in Rion’s chest eased. This was beginning to make a little more sense. “You’ve been sleeping before. Why can’t you now?”

  Beckett continued to cry but now her face crumpled along with it. “The bird.”

  Rion kept her face carefully blank. “Can you tell me what happened to the bird?”

  The kid finally looked away, she stared at the floor. Eventually, she spoke in a sorrow filled voice. “I hurt it.”

  “But the kids made you do it.” Rion was careful to not phrase it as a question. Beckett needed to know it wasn’t her fault. Her sister shrugged and nodded at the same time. “It’s not your fault,” she told her firmly. “So, you don’t need to feel bad about it. The darkness…it doesn’t need to come because of the bird. You didn’t have any choice.”

  “But…”

  “But what?” Rion asked.

  “It’s what the darkness wanted.”

  Rion suppressed a shudder. What the hell is in this kid’s mind? “I guess it’s pretty scary, isn’t it?” Beckett vigorously nodded. Rion ran her hands over the kid’s hair. “But I’m here. I’ll keep you safe when it comes.”

  “You can’t.” Beckett’s voice was a plaintive whine.

  “Why not?” Beckett didn’t respond, but she continued to cry. “When it comes, I’ll be here to help.” Clearly, the kid wasn’t convinced. “When you are scared and upset—that’s when it comes?” Rion was excited by the kid’s sudden willingness to talk, but what she was saying was unsettling. Beckett thought for a moment and nodded, slightly. “OK. Well, how about I stay with you? Just for tonight. To help keep it away?” Beckett blinked away a fresh wave of tears and mulled over the suggestion. After a long while, she finally spoke.

  “OK.”

  Rion sighed in relief. Crises averted? “Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich.” Beckett shook her head. “OK, well, let’s at least go wash our faces and brush our teeth.” Her sister followed her into the bathroom and did as Rion asked. And, for a moment, she imaging this would have been what it was like growing up with a siter. When they returned to the bedroom, she tried to turn off the lights but Beckett cried out.

  “Don’t!”

  Rion considered arguing, but eventually she compromised. “How about I keep the living room light on, but mostly shut the bedroom door?” Beckett considered before nodding.

  When they were ready, Beckett and Rion crawled underneath the blankets together. Beckett didn’t seem any less anxious, but Rion was just glad that she wasn’t catatonic anymore. She just needed the kid calm enough to rest. She needed her to make it through the weekend until Jennifer—a professional—could help her.

  She knew that it wasn’t a good idea to let Beckett get used to sleeping with her, but this was a special circumstance. She let the kid tuck herself under her arm and she was surprised by how comfortable it was. The tiny body next to hers was warm and it clung to her—needing to be assured by her presence. Rion had never felt more important in her life, and it was terrifying. An entire life was dependent upon her, and she didn't have a damn clue as to what to do.

  Rion looked down at her sister and found her staring at the ceiling. She could tell by the determination on her face that Beckett didn’t intend to sleep. But, she knew that biology would win out. The longer the kid tried to stay awake, the more surely she would fall asleep. All she had to do was wait her out. She sighed, she felt like she was on the back of a wild animal, just doing her best to stay on—forget about trying to control it.

  The silence of the bedroom seemed to leer at her, and Rion grew annoyed at her paranoia. Beckett’s imagination was contagious. She peered into the darkness of the room, irked by the need to do so. She expected to see movement, or shining eyes watching her from the dark. Even though she didn’t see anything, her ears kept picking up creaks and whispers and she got tired of trying to explain them. Instead, she focused on matching her breathing to Beckett’s. She could feel the kid flexing her toes and feet, trying to stay awake. The were each fighting an opposite battle. Rion hoped for sleep, while Beckett fought sleep tooth and nail. Eventually, the movement slowed, became erratic, and then stopped altogether. Rion smiled to herself and finally started to relax.

  A change in the light on her face woke her. It was a primal instinct that roused her. Some lizard part of her brain registered the change and her eyes flew open. Half dazed, half alert she watched a black shadow cut into the light from the living room, then grow smaller as it darted forward and onto the bed. When she blinked and jerked back into the pi
llow, the blackness of the shadow gave way to the chasm of her sister's eyes. The kid was kneeling over her, glaring into Rion’s face, nearly nose to nose.

  Rion didn’t have time to scream. She instinctively threw her hands up to protect her face. At the same, knocking Beckett onto the floor. The kid’s small body made a surprisingly loud thump followed by a roll. Her chest heaved as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  “Beckett?” she squeaked. No answer. The fright, the darkness of the bedroom, and her panic sent her back to childhood—afraid to get out of bed. She needed to check on her sister, but couldn’t bring herself to move. How did Beckett suddenly appear straddling her chest? One minute a dark figure was rushing towards the bed, the next the kid was in her face. She ran a hand over her eyes and forced herself to be reasonable. She must have been half asleep and her perception—her vision—had to have been unclear.

  Despite her insistence on logic, she still couldn’t make herself climb out from underneath the blankets. She leaned over the side of the bed and expected to see a frightened, maybe even injured Beckett. Or worse, a raving angry child lunging to attack her. Instead, she saw nothing. The light from the living room didn’t do much more than create more shadows. She retrieved her cell from the night stand, keenly aware of the empty space her arm hung over as she reached. She snatched it back and fumbled for the button to illuminate the screen. She blinked at the sudden glow, then turned it towards the floor.

  The small rectangle of light expanded to illuminate a significant section of floor. A whole lot of space that was eerily empty. Where’s Beckett? “Beckett?” she tried again. No answer. Get up and look for her, she told herself. She tilted the phone to send the light towards the further side of the room. Dresser, bookshelf, closet—no Beckett. Rion swallowed hard. The bed. She’s under the bed. Something about that created more horror and she shivered in fear and anxiety. “Beckett. Come out from under the bed.” She tried to make her voice sound authoritative, but it shook too much to be convincing. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Time to wake up.” No response.