Tell Me It Gets Better
A Voices Universe Side Story
The high-pitched screaming filled Princess Anna's ears, her mind overwhelmed by the unrelenting intensity of the young voice assaulting her consciousness, just as it had every day for the past six months. No matter how well she covered her ears, no matter how hard she tried to suppress her ability to comprehend the sound, the horrible noise still found its way into the depths of her soul, tearing at her heart as if a finely-sharpened blade was running through it without hesitation.
Finally, Anna could stand it no longer. "What is it, Élsaweth?" she asked, her voice tinged with desperation, with anxiety. Looking at her daughter's face, Anna forced herself to bite her tongue, to control her emotions. Crying will get you nothing, she told herself. And it will only make her more upset. Her voice softening, she knelt down, taking hold of her child's hand. "Please," she whispered. "Talk to me. Just tell me what you want!"
The two-and-a-half year-old girl's face screwed up in concentration, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth as she fought to communicate with her mother. Élsaweth's young eyes filled with distress, with indescribable frustration as she struggled to make her lips, her tongue obey her commands, to form the words she knew she wanted to say, that she had heard her brother, her father, her mother say before. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she exhausted the muscles within her mouth and jaw, they continued to refuse her desires, as if mocking her, taunting her. Stamping her feet, Élsaweth let out yet another primal scream of misery, tears streaming from her eyes as she pulled at her hair.
"Don't do that!" Anna cried out, taking hold of her daughter's hands. "You'll hurt yourself, sweetness. Please . . ." Looking about the room, Anna's mind raced as she desperately attempted to discern what it was her daughter desired. "Do you want your bear?" she asked, reaching for the stuffed animal on the shelf.
Élsaweth let out a scream of rage as she shook her head, her arms crossed, her face now flushed and red.
"Okay," Anna said, setting the bear aside. "What about . . . What about your baby?"
Anna started as her daughter ripped the doll from her hands, hurling it across the room. Another scream tore from Élsaweth's throat, her arms flailing as she struggled to express herself.
It was becoming more and more difficult for Anna to maintain her composure. Flinging up her hands in frustration, she fought back tears as she struggled in vain to determine just what it was her daughter desired. "What, Élsaweth? Do you want your book? Something to eat? To drink? Do you want to go outside? Please, just say something!"
But the words did not come, the screams did not abate. Élsaweth's face remained beet red as she lashed out upon anything in her path, her inability to form even the most basic of syllables driving her to a level of frustration beyond that typical for an ordinary toddler.
As her daughter's voice tore into her eardrums, Anna could hold the tears back no longer. Slumping against the wall, she slid down to the floor, her body suddenly feeling heavy, useless as she realized she was wholly incapable of easing her child's suffering. Why? she thought to herself as she buried her face in her hands. What did she ever do to deserve this? I don't understand! Why . . .?
Hours later, Anna sat in the room next to her children's bedchamber, staring at the fireplace as the flames within danced and twisted about. So focused was she upon the hypnotic orange glow that she did not hear the door open and shut behind her. She jumped slightly in surprise as she felt a gentle touch upon her shoulder.
"Hey."
Putting on her usual mask of cheerfulness, of boundless optimism, she rose, turning to the figure behind her. "Hey, yourself."
Queen Elsa smiled at Anna, her hand still resting upon her sister's shoulder. Looking into Anna's eyes, Elsa frowned inwardly as she noticed the dark circles, the bloodshot expression, the unmistakable signs of complete exhaustion. "Are you all right?" Elsa asked, delicately. "You didn't say much at dinner tonight. Even after you wrangled the twins, you seemed like you were in your own world."
"I . . . I'm fine," Anna said, brushing Elsa's hand away, walking toward the fireplace. "I'm just tired, that's all. Kristoff's been working late these past few nights, even though he knows he doesn't have to, that he never needs to work again if he doesn't want to . . ."
Elsa nodded. "He's a man, Anna. Men need to feel that they are taking care of their families. I'm sure he feels useless if he doesn't—"
"That's not why," Anna blurted out. "He . . . He wants to get away from everything here . . . from the twins . . . from me . . ."
Elsa frowned. "I can't believe that," she said, walking toward Anna, wrapping her arms around her waist. "He's a good man, Anna. He would never—"
"Then why else?" Anna whispered. "I know . . . I know I'm not the perfect wife, the perfect mother, but I do the best that I can. I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid he's going to leave us because . . . because . . ."
Elsa took a deep breath, uncertain of just what to say. "This . . . This isn't about you, is it? It's about—"
"Of course it's not!" Anna could no longer hold back her emotions. Her fingernails dug into Elsa's shoulders as she found herself sobbing uncontrollably. "She can't talk, Elsa!" she choked out. "She should be able . . . to form words . . . to piece phrases together. Célebron can! The other two-year-olds in the village can! But Élsaweth . . . She can't . . . She can't . . ."
Elsa's right hand ran through Anna's hair, her left hand tightly clutching the Princess's waist. "Some children take longer to talk than others," she offered, trying her best to reassure her sister. "It is not unheard of. I'm sure, in time, she will—"
"No, she won't!" Anna's tear-stained face twisted in a grimace of heartache. "This isn't normal at all, Elsa. She's trying to make words! I can see the frustration in her eyes. Something isn't connecting between her mind and her lips, and I don't know how to fix it!"
"Anna, what can I do to—"
"Nothing!" Anna exploded, her emotions completely overwhelming her. "You can't fix this, Elsa! You can't wave your hand . . . You can't use your powers to undo whatever this is! You can't do anything at all! You can't even understand what it's like, and you never will, because you can't have—"
Anna stopped herself, her face turning white. "I . . . I can't believe I said that," she whispered. "Elsa, I'm sorry! I didn't mean—"
"I know," Elsa said, ignoring the dull ache that coursed through the scar on her abdomen. "Of course you didn't mean it. You're upset and scared. I don't blame you at all."
Anna left Elsa's grasp, falling once more into the chair. "I can't take this anymore, Elsa. I want to talk to my daughter. I want her to be able to talk to me! Is that too much to ask? Is it?!"
Wordlessly, Elsa stood behind the chair, hoping that giving Anna an opportunity to express her innermost fears would help to soothe the Princess's pain. Oh, Anna, Elsa thought to herself. You are so right. I wish I could take this pain from you. I would gladly suffer so you wouldn't have to. I can't stand to see you like this . . .
"She's so smart, Elsa." Anna's voice was nearly inaudible; Elsa found herself straining, holding her breath, to hear her sister's words, the Princess's voice filled with exhaustion. "She knows what so many things are. If I ask her to show me something, she can bring it to me. She knows what the words are. But she can't even come close to saying anything but 'aah' . . ." Looking up over the back of the chair, Anna peered into her older sister's eyes. "What kind of life will she have if she never learns how to speak? Who will be her friends? Who would want to marry her?" Her eyes filled with fear. "What if . . . What if she's alone for the rest of her life?"
Elsa walked in front of the chair, placing her hand on her sister's cheek. "She won't be alone, Anna. I don't know why she has this curse, why she has to bear this cross. But I do know that no matter what happens, she will always have you and Kristoff to love her . . . to care for her."
Anna took hold of Elsa's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Tell me it's going to get better, Elsa. Tell me all of this will go away. Tell me everything is going to be all right . . ."
Elsa sighed, kissing Anna's brow. "I . . . I can't promise you that," she admitted. "But I can tell you that I will always be here to watch over all of you." She pulled back from the chair, her eyes still fixated upon Anna. "You once told me that I no longer had to be alone. That you would always be here for me. I'm making the same promise to you now, Anna. No matter what, I will always take care of you and your family. Always . . ."
The moon shone brightly through the window as Elsa entered the bedroom. Moving cautiously, she crossed to the center of the room, not wanting to make a sound for fear of waking the slumbering twins. Pausing for a moment, she listened, taking in the steady breathing that filled the air, marveling at just how beautiful it sounded to her ears. Tiptoeing, she moved to Élsaweth's bed, kneeling beside it. Raising her hand, she delicately brushed the lock of long red hair from the sleeping girl's eyes, watching as the child continued to sleep, unaware of Elsa's presence.
Closing her eyes, Elsa felt her lips move soundlessly as she found herself offering a supplication. Gábriel . . . Spirits of the Heavens . . . Almighty . . . Father. Bowing her head, she continued her prayer. I know I am unworthy . . . That it is not my place to ask anything of you. But I have done so much to ensure the safety of this Creation. If you could please hear my prayer. If, just this once, you could grant my request. Not for my sake, but for the sake of this innocent child . . .
Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on Élsaweth's lips. Please. Work through me. Loosen her tongue. Take away her affliction. Help her to speak, so that she may sing Your praises all the days of her life. Please, Almighty Father. Please . . .
As Elsa concluded her prayer, she thought she felt—for the briefest of moments—a warm sensation flowing from her lips toward Élsaweth's mouth. Pulling away in surprise, Elsa shook her head as the unfamiliar feeling departed, dissipating into the night. Running her hand over the toddler's brow, Elsa stood, moving to the doorway, taking care not to wake either child.
As she left the room, Elsa heard a soft voice whispering in her ear: warm, feminine, welcoming. My child, it said. I have taken your request to Him. He is most pleased with you. Do not fear . . .
"Who are you?" Elsa whispered. "Are you really here?"
The voice laughed warmly, soothingly. Yes, my child. I am very, very real. Someday, when you are ready, you will see me face to face. But, for now, accept my intercession. Do not worry, Elsa. All will be well. You will see. You will see . . .
Elsa sat in her study, her eyes poring over the day's paperwork. Dipping her pen into the inkwell on her desk, she began drafting a letter to the rulers of the Eastern Lands, eager to increase their trade partnership. She had just brought the quill to the parchment when the door to her study burst open.
"Minister Andersen," she said, slowly looking up. "What could possibly be so important that—"
Her words stopped midsentence as she saw who had entered. "Anna? What—"
Without a word, Anna ran behind the desk, wrapping her arms around Elsa, tears flowing down her cheeks. Elsa felt her heart plummet into her stomach as fear began to consume her. "Anna, what is it? What's wrong—"
"She talked!" Anna's voice was soft, cracking, yet filled with exuberance.
At first, Elsa was certain she had misheard her sister. "Wait . . . What?!"
Anna wiped tears of joy from her face as she took Elsa's face in her hands. "Élsaweth . . . This morning, at breakfast, she said 'Mama'! Clear as day. And then . . . Then she wouldn't stop talking! 'Apple!' 'Bear!' 'Papa!' . . ."
Elsa felt her heart swell with relief. "Oh, Anna! That's . . . That's wonderful!"
Anna let out a laugh of relief as she kissed Elsa's forehead. "I don't know what happened . . . And I don't care! She talked, Elsa! Real words! Finally . . . After all this time . . ."
As the two sisters held each other tightly, laughing, crying from happiness, Elsa looked above her, beyond the ceiling, to the heavens above. I was wrong, Anna, she thought. It does get better. All it takes is faith . . . and family . . . and love. No matter how dark things may seem, it gets better in the end . . .
AN: This is a story that simply had to be written down. It has . . . personal significance in so many ways. Hopefully, it is worth your time.