Children of Darkness (8 page)

His grumbling voice reaches me and I hear, “Very…soon.”

I jerk the covers back over my head and cover my ears with my hands to stop the sound of children playing. To my surprise, it seems to work. I can’t hear them anymore. I pull the covers back down to find the room empty. The fetid smell is the only evidence that it wasn’t a dream.

I hurriedly put my clothes on and leave the house before they can come back. I call a cab and wait at the street until they come for me. In the backseat, I send a text to Coby that I am going home and text Stacy that I won’t be in for the rest of the week. There is no use in telling them what happened. I realize now that no place is safe for me.

We pull to the curb and I pay the driver, my hands dropping bills from tremors. After I get into my house, I realize I am completely alone. Max is gone. Coby is at work. I know I have to see Emily before our next session. I have to warn her.

I get the files out of my briefcase and spread them out on my table. I quickly find the one I’m looking for.

Emily’s parents don't respond to my calls or messages. I pace back and forth in my house as I try to figure out how to tell her the nightmares are real.
What do say if I told you everything I mentioned about the demons going away was false? That they’re actually living beings that can do physical harm, and they will never go away?
Coby calls and texts several times throughout the day, but I ignore him. My gut tells me to keep him at a distance, and I try to listen to my inner voice as much as possible. I have to stay focused on Emily, even if that means pushing him away or completely ignoring him. She deserves my full attention right now.

I think about eating, but my stomach turns in protest. I pace my living room and my office over and over. The light seems to dim for a moment and I remember I never changed the other bulbs. I quickly run to my pantry and pull a new case of lightbulbs into my arms. I grab the stool and head for the master bathroom first.

As I walk into my room, I see Max’s mat beside my bed. I hold in a sob and blink away the tears threatening to fall. Now isn’t the time to break down again. I have to keep my head clear. I walk into the bathroom and place the stool under the fixture.

After I open the drapes to let in natural light, I step on the stool and reach up to take off the fixture. I work quickly and change the bulb in less than two minutes. A new personal record. I step down and find the next bulb to be changed.

I exit my room and walk down the hallway towards the living room. The guest bedroom and bathroom have fresh light bulbs, so I know they are fine. I walk through the doorway and place the stool under the ceiling fan. I take my time unscrewing the bulbs and screwing new ones back in.

The last set to change is the one in my office. I walk to the entrance hallway and turn to enter my office area, the formal living and dining area. The space is open and long, with bay windows on the front side of the house. The therapy room at my office building and my home office are similar in decor and furnishing.

A large living room set sits at the back wall with a dark oak coffee table in the middle. A toy box with an assortment of different toys is beside the loveseat. A stuffed animal collection is strategically placed throughout the room for children.

I change out the ceiling fan bulbs and the lamps on my desk by the bay windows. After I replace the remaining bulbs. I dispose of the old bulbs and straighten up my office area, picking up all the toys off the floor.

I check my phone and notice there is still no word from the Frosts. The sinking feeling in my stomach grows worse and I drink some water to attempt to settle the rising nausea. I sit at my desk and power up the computer. My hands are shaking so badly I have to put in my password three times. After I log on, I bring up my email and type the email address for Mrs. Frost I wrote on a sticky note.

Staring at the screen, I try to collect my thoughts. How can I send an email to them to stress the urgency in which to contact me without sounding crazy? And to directly speak to Emily? Almost impossible.
Hi, I need to tell your daughter her monsters are real and they’ll never go away. Could you hand her the phone please?
Yeah, that will go over smoothly.

I lean forward and begin typing:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Frost,

I've tried to contact you via phone but haven’t received a response. I came across some information that I feel I need to share with Emily. Could you please respond to this email with a phone call? I am also curious as to how she is doing since the incident.

Thank you,

Dr. Janet Birch

I read it over a few times and finally click send. Since I added the last part about the incident, it seems more likely they will respond to me. The room feels as if it is shrinking and the air grows stale. I need to go outside to refresh myself and get some space.

I pick up the toys that are scattered throughout the office once more.
How do these things keep ending up all over my office?
I walk to the kitchen to get more water and my thoughts stop. I haven’t had children at my home for a session or consultation in months, yet the toys are clearly being played with.

I turn around and walk slowly back to my office with my stomach in my throat. I look around the corner and see the toys scattered all over the floor in my office as if I never picked them up. I cover my mouth and slip back around the corner pressing my back against the wall. Closing my eyes, I focus on breathing. I count to ten and feel my heart slowing from highly erratic to fast. With my breathing under control, I open my eyes and peek around the corner again. The toys are back in the toy box against the wall.

I rub my eyes and check again, the toys are still in the box. I shake my head and walk out to my back yard to get some fresh air. I am losing my mind.
Did I really clean up toys earlier?
As I touch the door handle, my skin begins to prickle. My hand automatically jerks away as I study the handle. It looks like it always does. I lift my hand and reach for the handle again. A whip of blue connects to my middle finger from the handle and I squeak. I ignore the sensation and push the door open, stepping out into the yard.

I take in big gulps of air and lean over to put my hands on my knees. My eyes close as the feeling of suffocation begins to recede. My lungs expand and compress over and over until the panic is nonexistent. I stand up straight and soak in the warm rays of the sun.

After a moment, I look around my yard and walk to the covered bench swing to sit. I rest on the swing and push the ground with my feet, rocking softly. I look around the fence line at the hedges and notice a black object barely visible behind them.

I study it for a moment and can’t quite make it out. I slowly get to my feet and slowly pace across to the hedge. The slow-moving heart in my chest starts thumping a faster rhythm. As I get closer, recognition sets in. My chest constricts and my body freezes. It is my guardian. It is Max.

My knees give out and I collapse midway to the fence line. Grief swallows me and sobs rip at my throat. My faithful companion who protected me from my fears is lying dead in my yard. I crawl closer to him and cover my mouth with my hands as I scream. His body looks gnawed upon.

Bite marks mar his skin and fur, bone and muscle. There are so many bites. I vomit as I get closer to his mutilated body. I struggle to my feet and move to my house to find something to cover my hero. I find the blue cover he used in the winter to keep warm and hug it to my chest.

I cry for a while, rocking myself on the couch with his cover held tightly to me. I have to work up the courage to go back outside and see Max. There is no heart left in my chest. When he disappeared, my heart was broken. Now that I found him in this condition, my heart shatters.

It feels as if I’ve been crying to hours before I can gather enough strength to walk back out the door. My legs feel full of lead as I approach the body of my Max. I push the hedges aside and place the cover over him. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t picked him out and taken him home with me, he would still be alive. He would still be happy and able to watch Rin Tin Tin.

I have to bury my friend. He deserves more, but I can only do so much right now. I wipe my face and stand shakily. The only shovel I can think of is in my basement so I make my way through the house to get the tools I need.
Tools are necessary. Tools help heal. Get in, get out. Don’t linger.
I search for a few minutes in my basement before I find a shovel. I make my way up the stairs to the main floor and hear the sound of people running.

“Leave me alone! Haven’t you done enough?” I scream.

The sounds stop.
I’m going crazy.
I climb the remainder of the stairs and hold the shovel ready to hit anything that dares cross my path. Nothing stirs. I walk out the door and look for the perfect place for a hero to be buried. I decide to put him beside my swing because that’s where he rested while we lounged outside.

I dig out his grave as the afternoon turns to evening. When I’m finished, my arms burn and my lungs feel as if they will burst at any minute. I climb out of the hole and walk over to Max’s body. I moved him over by the swing earlier as I felt my strength waning. Grabbing the blanket Max is placed on, I begin to drag him into the grave.

I climb back out of the grave and place his mat from my bedside over his body.

“You’ll always be my hero, Max. I’m sorry.”

It takes me thirty minutes to cover his body and fill the hole completely. Sweat covers my body and I feel weak. I sit next to his grave until the sun begins to sink in the sky. I know I have to go inside and shower, but I can’t bear to leave Max’s side.

Finally, the night creeping in makes me leave my guardian to rest in peace. Leaving the shovel outside of my back door, I walk in and go straight to my shower. After washing off all the dirt and sweat, I walk to the giant tub and begin filling it. The smell of lavender and vanilla fills the bathroom and my soul sighs.

I sink into the hot water and instantly my muscles relax. The sting gives way and my battered body soaks in the suds. Emotionally and physically drained doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. My phone sits on the edge of the tub playing Moonlight Sonata performed by Josef Bulva, further relaxing my mind.

All of a sudden, the tone switches to Coby’s ringtone. I reach for the phone to silence it and answer it instead.

“Hey, Coby.”

“Janet, I’m so glad you answered. I haven’t heard from you all day. Why did you leave this morning?”

I sigh as I remember leaving so quickly from his house. It hasn’t even been a day? “I’m sorry. It was just too much being alone.”

I hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “If you would’ve asked me not to go, I would’ve stayed with you. Do you want to me to come over? What’s going on, baby?”

I don’t have any more tears left in me. “I found Max.” My voice breaks when I say his name.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, baby. Do you need help? I’m coming over.”

He hangs up before I can stop him. I sink back in the tub and groan. Should he be coming over right now? It doesn’t really matter if I want him to or not, he is coming. I reluctantly unplug the drain and reach for my robe, stepping out of the tub. I don’t bother getting dressed.

Coby comes in and holds me in his arms while I tell him how I found Max. I cry through most of it and he comforts me, wiping my tears away. He is hurt by what happened to Max as well and we share a few tears together.

When I tell him about the grave I made, he balks at me. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come right over and helped you!”

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone but Max. If I had known how much work it was, I would’ve called you. All I could think of was a need to leave him in peace, so I did what I had to do to make that happen,” I said.

He sits quietly for a moment, and then nods his head. “I understand, Janet. I just wish I could’ve been here to help you. Did you put anything for a marker?”

“I didn’t think of doing that. I put his mat in there with him, but nothing is on his grave.” I could’ve slapped myself for not thinking of a marker there for him.

“Let’s look around and see what we can use for Max, something fitting for your hero.” He stands and helps me up.