by Nate Allen
comes from her. And then she runs up to the door and goes inside. Daddy loves you too, sweetie.
John Doe
Matthew Mills is blonde like his daughter. He is standing on the sidewalk. M went inside a few minutes ago.
“We are going to show Matthew my power.” the tingle of Teddy is back. The red swirls in his eyes seem even livelier.
“What do you mean, Teddy?” I ask.
“Take her, and then go back to the shed.”
“I don’t like the shed.”
“Listen, John!” the tingle of Teddy has frozen me. “Matthew Mills tore the covering. He has power, too. But, he will see what power is. He will see what I can do.” Teddy’s whisper is terrifying. He’s angry. I don’t like when Teddy is angry. That’s how I get the scars on my face. Self inflicted, but forced. He makes my nails dig deep, like earlier this morning, but more severe. He likes the dripping of blood. I am a servant to Teddy. He would not accept any other way.
I haven’t been back to the shed since I killed the last child. It’s where everything is. It’s where one teddy bear for each child victim sits next to the other. There are fourteen altogether. But, after little M, there will be fifteen. It’s where my daddy’s cigarette pack is. Teddy loves the shed. It’s where he keeps his trophies.
Matthew Mills is walking back the way he came. His eyes are focused on the sky. He hasn’t looked at me once. I will wait for him to leave completely. He came from one of the houses down the street. I think it was the big white one at the end.
“Go inside. Go to the principal’s office, and have Marcy paged. They won’t suspect a thing, John. Just trust in me.”
“I do, Teddy.”
Matthew Mills
I feel weightless. The school is a block behind me. When I close my eyes, I see nothing. Janet’s sadness doesn’t weigh heavily on my mind, nor does Marcy’s safety.
Sometimes I’m still unable to completely swallow all that I have. I turned thirty just a couple of months ago. And what I have is what some people three times my age have never gotten to experience: true happiness. Janet and I will get through this, just like we got through the first miscarriage. And we will come out stronger. There is a reason for what’s happened. Lord, make it clear to her. Make it clear to me.
John Doe
Matthew is far enough down the street that I would look like a blur if even seen. I tuck my left hand away in my trench coat pocket as I step out of the Buick. Teddy is in my right hand. I’m holding his left arm firmly.
I can feel that I am without identity again. Teddy’s power seems stronger than before. I open the door to the school. The school bell is loud. It sounds more like a buzzer. A few children scurry past me, toward their classes. I step up three steps. There is a lunch room left of me, and a hall of classrooms right of me. The principal’s office is maybe two hundred feet down the main hall.
A well dressed man walks past. He doesn’t notice me. Teddy’s power is strong.
With many of the other children, I would wait in my car. I would prove that I wasn’t a stranger by telling them something strangers wouldn’t know. They would get in. And then away we would go. But, with M, Teddy wants me to take her while under supervision. He wants to prove his power.
I can see a white haired woman at the desk through the office window. She looks up and sees me. Teddy’s covering is down. I open the door.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Can you page Marcy Mills?” I ask. Teddy tells me to smile. I do.
“What for?”
“Put me on the desk. Have my eyes meet hers.” Teddy commands. I do. “Ask again.”
I ask the same thing. This time her reply is a groggy nod of the head.
She grabs the intercom and speaks. “Can Marcy Mills come to the principal’s office immediately?”
We wait. The clock ticks quietly, though it seems to get louder. The woman is tapping on her keyboard again, almost methodically. I hook my head around the desk to see that she has written the words my dead husband burns, over and over again. There is no emotion in her eyes.
The door opens behind me, and little M looks up at me.
“Ms. Brands? What’s the matter?” she asks.
“Something happened at your home. This man is going to bring you there.” she doesn’t look up from typing.
“Who is he?” she surveys me with a bit of a scowl.
“I’m a friend of your dad’s. Well, I work with him.” I pause and smile. “He always talks about you, M. You are the world to him.”
Her eyes brighten as the lie slips from my mouth convincingly.
“What happened?” she asks, her scowl now a curious gaze.
“I don’t know. I’ll let him tell you. Get your coat and backpack.”
M looks at Ms. Brands, who hasn’t looked away from her computer once since Teddy’s eyes met hers. “Is this going to count against my record, Ms. Brands?”
“No.” the pecking of the keys is almost louder than Ms. Brand’s reply. “It will be fine, M.”
As M opens the door and walks to her locker, I hook my head around the desk and look at the screen once more. The words so will I have now been added in between the first set: My dead husband burns. So will I. My dead husband burns. So will I. Over and over again.
I grab Teddy from the desk, and tuck him under my arm. M’s locker is down the hall. She is grabbing her primarily pink backpack, and wrapping herself back in her coat and scarf. I open the door, leaving the sound of methodical typing to haunt Ms. Brands. Soon she will know what happened. By then it will be too late. She won’t remember my face, or the interaction we had.
“So you work with my dad?” she sounds so adult.
“Yeah,” I answer as she closes her locker and follows along.
“What’s your name?” For a moment, the light in her eyes spill onto me. For a moment, I forget about Teddy. For a moment, I consider bringing her home.
“John,”
“That’s a nice name. John. It fits you well.” she smiles. “My dad always picks good people.”
The tingle of Teddy pours into me. I am filling with anger. My hands start to shake. My eyes feel wide. I smile to comfort her… to comfort me. It seems to work, she smiles back. But, I feel sick. Why am I fighting? With the other children, I would let the tingle of Teddy fill me with all the needed ingredients. I would drive them someplace far away and suffocate them quickly. And then the tingle of Teddy would leave me. I haven’t fought it before. Teddy will punish me for this.
Matthew Mills
I got home a few minutes ago. I am standing in the entryway. The light in my house paints across the ceiling in a way I rarely see. I am usually three hours into a twelve hour shift by this time. I am one of the supervisors at the town’s only factory. It pays the bills enough so that Janet can do what she loves. She paints and draws. Her work has sold but not often. Whether or not it sells doesn’t really matter. I provide, so she can do what she loves. After all, the only job I’ve ever really wanted was to be a family man. And I have that. I pray for a son of my own, but if it’s not in the Lord’s plan, it’s not in His plan. My steps are directed of Him.
I rarely see the morning sun in my house, except in the summer, when it comes up early. I don’t know what to do with my time. Come Monday I will be back at work. I used six of my vacation days so that I could be here for Janet. If I’m honest with myself, I haven’t been here for her. I have avoided her. I can’t stand to see her faith shriveling. The Lord has pulled us through a lot. And there is a lot of light in my life.
There’s a lot of light in her life…
But, maybe that’s not for me to decide. A walk with the Lord is personal. And maybe hers isn’t nearly as sound as mine.
The light bathes me as I walk upstairs. I feel safe. My eyes are heavy. Sleep has escaped me since the miscarriage. But, for the first time since, I feel if I were to close my eyes, I would fall into a deep sleep. The couch in the living room is comfortable en
ough. A bright coating of light is blanketing the surface, and a fleece throw is on the arm. I take off my jacket, and throw it on Marcy’s rocking chair. It used to be mine, made by my dad’s own hands. But, dad’s gone now. Cancer. Years ago.
John Doe
Little M is in the backseat. Teddy is in the passenger’s. He hates her, more than anyone before her. He noticed my hesitance. There can be no hesitance! Not with her. The tingle of Teddy has become the fingers of Teddy. I can feel him prodding around in my head. I can feel his whispers becoming loud commands. He’s telling me to kill her here. I can’t. Her smile lights me up. It makes me think of the days before daddy and his piece against me. The days of my mother… she was lovely. Her name was Anna Christine Doe, but before marrying daddy, her name was Anna Christine Hill. Back then, the light was bright in my life. But, then she got sick. And everything changed…
Little M makes me think of the before. Her kindness makes me think of my mother. Even her eyes remind me of hers: blue and beautiful.
“Mr. John,” she says in that quiet, kind voice.
“Yes, M.” I answer.
“Why haven’t you brought me home yet?”
We have been sitting for a few minutes. My lips want to say run, but Teddy grabs control and forms a simple lie: just warming up the car, M. I’ll bring you home soon.
I pulled her out of school for urgent reasons. At least, that’s what I told her. But, I’m not being urgent. And she can see that. Yet, she isn’t running. She is sitting and
