A Voice in Her Room

Chapter: Four

"How was the session, sweetheart?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?" Mary asked as she eyed her daughter in the rear view mirror. "What did you two talk about?"

Maebe shrugged in the back seat of the car, staring down at her feet.

"Okay, well..." Mary tried to think of something to lighten up the mood. "How about we stop for some ice cream?"

All she got in reply was a shrug.

"I don't know about you, but i'm in the mood for some ice cream." She forced a small laugh, and kept a smile on her face, although she felt like breaking down on the spot. What happened to her daughter?

Mary tried to keep the mood cheery, and comfortable, but all her conversation attempts were one sided. She couldn't get so much as a proper response from the girl. She either shrugged, or only said about three words. This was deeply upsetting for Mary. Maebe had been becoming more, and more distant. She wouldn't talk much, and when she did she said very little. Most of her responses were shrugs. She went outside a lot still, but she never played with the neighborhood children anymore, she just sat on the swing out back. The most interaction her parents got from her was during the night, when she woke up screaming from the nightmares. Her eating habits were suffering, she was hardly hungry anymore, and only ate a few bites of every meal. The doctor prescribed special vitamins so she would at least be getting the nutrients she needed. Her health was suffering, and so were her parent's emotions. The counseling didn't seem to help, nor did the medications prescribed to her. She just refused to be a happy child. This weighed more on Mary than she could bare. She just wanted to see her daughter smile again. She missed her smile so much.

The ice cream proved little success. Although Maebe ate all of it, she didn't seem to enjoy it. And as soon as they got home, she went straight out back to the swing.

Mary watched her from the back hall window, a hand on her chest, and the other across her mouth. She bit her lip to keep from crying, but the tears came anyway. Maebe still got the same ice cream flavor, ladybug, she still liked to go outside, her favorite color was still purple, she still asked for her hair to be put up in pig tails everyday, she still was partly the same, but Mary's daughter wasn't Mary's daughter anymore. Even though she got her daughter back that horrible night, she never truly got her back. It was as if part of Maebe had been left behind in that school.

Mary didn't know what to do anymore, no approach seemed to work. So, instead, she curled up on the couch, with an exhausted sigh. Where did Maebe go? It wasn't long before she started to cry silently into the pillows.

Maebe sat on the swing, slowly swaying over the worn grass. The tips of her shoes lightly grazed the ground as she stared at them. She usually loved being outside, but it wasn't as happy as it used to be. The flowers hadn't bloomed for a while, and it made the yard look sleepy. Maebe hated sleep. She always had nightmares. No matter how hard she tried to stay awake, she'd always fall asleep, and have those horrible nightmares. She wished they'd go away, but they just didn't. The nightmares gave her bad thoughts. Or maybe the bad thoughts gave her nightmares? It was all too confusing, and scary. It made her head hurt. She didn't like to think about the bad thoughts, and nightmares. She just wished they'd go away.

She was afraid of talking about them, revealing what she thought of sometimes. She didn't like remembering the nightmares either. But it's all people ever asked her about. And she didn't like talking to people anyway. They sometimes gave her bad thoughts.

She knew that her mom and dad were sad she didn't talk to them anymore. And she hated making them sad, but she just couldn't talk to them. It'd make her sad too.

She just wished the bad thoughts and nightmares would go away. Then she could talk to her parents, and they wouldn't be sad anymore. But she was too afraid to.

She wished she wasn't afraid either. She wished she was brave. But she wasn't. She just made everyone sad. She couldn't help it if she was sad, or too scared to talk. She just was. And it was all her fault that she made her parents sad. She didn't mean to. She just did.

Maebe continued to look down at her feet, unable to cry for some reason, although she wanted to. She just wanted it all to go away. She wanted her head to stop hurting. She wanted to stop being sad. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.

A small gust of wind brought the trees to life, and made the grass try to tickle her feet. The smoky scent of a fire pit being used rolled it's way over to Maebe. She inhaled deeply, savoring the smell. She loved that smell. The neighbors often used their fire pit, no matter how warm it was outside.

The wind brought all these familiar, comforting sounds, and smells. But there was one sound that wasn't so familiar. It was the rustling of something... paper maybe.

Maebe cast her eyes in the direction of the sound. She spotted a single piece of paper floating on the breeze, making it's way into her yard. It tumbled around, and around, seemingly tripping over itself. Maebe was reminded of a puppy trying to run.

The paper swirled in a spiral a few times, getting lower, and lower to the ground. Then it crashed against the tree trunk, getting stuck in the bark.

Curious, Maebe got up from her swing, and tip-toed over to the trapped paper, running a hand down her arm. Once at the tree she leaned on the trunk, observing the paper struggling to get free, she was almost afraid to touch it. It looked old, and stained yellow with a few tears at the edges. It had something written on it, and perhaps a picture.

Maebe then reached out, and tugged the paper free, her curiosity getting the better of her fear. Her attention was first grabbed by the strange drawing. The drawing was of a spider web with a huge spider eating something that was spilling from a naked man's mouth. There was a weird symbol on the spider's back that looked kind-of like a star. The text bellow the picture was strange too, and Maebe was a little scared to read it, so she didn't. Except for a line that stood out from the rest, written in large red letters:

'Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel.'

The cryptic wards frightened Maebe as they were burned into her mind. Even after she folded the paper up, and stuffed it into her dress pocket she could still see the words everywhere she looked. Her head hurt badly now, as if something were banging on her skull, trying to get out.

She quickly sat back down on the swing, and tried to think of other things, tried to forget the scary words, and the weird picture, but it was as if she wasn't allowed to forget. She felt like she should say the words, they were almost bursting from her lips, but she was too frightened to even whimper. She frantically swept her hand down her arm, and cheeks.

'Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel... Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel...' The words kept playing over, and over in her head, begging to be uttered, whispered, shouted, begging to be let loose.

But Maebe kept quiet. She knew how to be quiet, she was an expert at it now. But the words just kept playing over, and over, and over, and over in her head. They stayed so long, that they weren't even scary anymore. They were actually sort of soothing, like a lullaby. Maebe loved lullabies. But she still didn't say the words. The yard looked too sleepy, and she didn't want to wake it up.

Don Wattkins stepped out of his car, a heavy feeling in his chest as he walked up to the house. Opening the door, he put on the best smile he could. After all that's happened, he had to be strong for his family. They could pull through this, he kept telling himself. They could push through this.

"Hey honey." He called, entering his home.

Hearing no answer he called out again. "Honey?"

Still no answer.

He took a peek in the living room, and saw his wife sitting with her face buried in her hands. "Mary, what's wrong?" He asked, hurrying to his wife's side, and wrapping an arm around her.

"I can't do this anymore..." She sobbed, leaning into his chest. "I just don't know what to do."

Don didn't need to ask what she was talking about. "The counselor said that it would take time for Maebe to heal. So give it some time."

"But she's getting worse! Not better!" Mary cried, emptying herself into her husband. "She's not Maebe anymore!"

"I know." Don cooed, rubbing his wife's back with his hand. "It'll be okay. We can pull through this. We just have to stay strong for her."

"It's so hard."

"I know it is, but we must keep our heads." Don said, trying to reassure his wife as well as himself. "We can pull through this. It'll be alright. We just have to stay strong."

"I just don't know what else to do!" Mary continued to sob hopelessly.

"There's nothing more we can do." Don choked, finding it hard to keep his composure. The whole situation was hopeless. There really was nothing they could do. Nothing was working, and Maebe was only getting worse. "We just stay strong." Those words being said over and over were losing their meaning. How could they stay strong when they were losing their daughter more and more everyday? She was practically disappearing right before their eyes. "We just have to stay strong." Something they didn't think they could do much longer.