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MONTHS.
It had been months since Jane had felt this way, she didn't know why she did, but she was sick, and she gained weight even though it was a rare occasion that she ate. It wasn't a lot; it was enough to make her look like she wasn't starving.
She was.
Jane was starving and she hurt. The last time she had truly felt happy was when she and Tim stole whatever Mother and Father were drinking ( it was disgusting, and Jane never drank whatever it was ever again ) without them looking. She didn't remember that night all too well, but she knew they had kissed, and they kissed a lot. She couldn't remember what they said, but she did remember that it felt good, and she was happy.
He hadn't given her attention like that since then.
He didn't give her much attention at all since then.
She paced around the library as the Barnabys worked on their little dirigible contraption.
"Nice job, Barnaby," the first one said.
"You too, Barnaby," the second one said.
"Bye, bye dirigible," both chorused.
She was exhausted and felt the overwhelming need to lay down. She laid down behind a pile of books as she held her stomach, which had hurt since yesterday morning, and it gradually seemed to be getting worse as the hours past. Jane hummed lowly to herself as she nestled her head into her elbow. She tried to stay awake, which the consistant throbbing pain did a good job of doing.
One of the Barnabys peeked his head over the pile of books at his sister that writhed in pain.
"Are you okay, Jane?" he asked.
"Cold . . ." she sighed.
He took off the pink sweater that he normally would trade with his twin, before he laid it on Jane. He looked to his twin with the normal blank stare that was upon both of their faces.
"She's cold," he said to the other.
"Tim could get her a blanket," the other replied.
"Yes," the first said. "Tim could get her a blanket."
Both twins exited the library, in order to look for the oldest of the four, as Jane opened a book that she leaned against. She looked across the page and saw pictures of animals and babies in jars. She adjusted her glasses as she read over the pages about medical anomalies. She'd pause every once in awhile to grip her stomach and bite her lips to stifle the screams she so desperately wanted to let out. Her stomach felt as if it were trying to burst from her skeleton.
The twins both walked down the steps to see that Tim stood at the entryway to the living room, where their parents spent their time snogging, making model ships, or knitting with that dreadful yarn Mother would make from Father's hair. Their older brother only peeked from the side of the doorway as he watched their parents.
The first twin was brave enough to walk down the steps, while the other one retreated back to the library, to check on Jane, in hopes she didn't vomit on any of the books again.
"Tim," the first twin said.
The oldest looked down to him and pushed him away from the doorway, before he backed away himself.
"What ?" he asked. "You know they'll throw me into the coal bin if they catch any of you running around the house, making any sort of noise."
"Jane's cold, and sick," the twin claimed. "She needs a blanket."
"I don't know where any blankets are!" Tim exclaimed, as loud as he dared. "She'll have to stay cold."
The second twin looked over the little nest of books to see Jane. She shivered as she read the medical book and held her stomach. She read one page though she didn't quite know what it was about, where it showed an image of a very large woman being cut open up along her stomach, with people in coats that had sharp medical supplies, water, and needles on standby. The woman had a strip of leather in her mouth as she bit down on it in pain. Jane didn't bother to read what it said, once she recognized the phrase 'stomach pain'. She had a feeling she would need to do what was going on in the picture, to see what caused her such pain. It had been going on for far too long just to be starvation or illness β there had to be something there, like a tumor. Her stomach was hard, and solid, not squishy like it should've been.
"Barnaby went to get you a blanket," the second twin announced.
"I . . . I need water, and something to bite on . . ." Jane said. "Something sharp."
"Why?"
"I need to see what's wrong with me," Jane groaned. "It hurts β hurry."
The twin did as he was told, as he went and emptied the box that he and his twin kept their tools in, before he blew the dust out of it and took the box the bathroom. He set the box into the sink, where he turned on the water so the box could fill with water. He made sure to keep the water quiet, so no pipes hissed and bothered their parents.
In the library, Jane stuffed the sleeve of her dress into her mouth, as to muffle the cries and whimpers that escaped her. She was dizzy, and her body ached. Her legs quivered and trembled at the amount of pain her lower body had experienced. She hit herself in the head with the book, so she could keep herself awake somehow. She needed to be awake.
The first twin managed to get Tim back upstairs as they looked around the house for towels, or blankets, something to cover her with, so she would stop complaining about her childish needs. Last time Tim made noise to try and get her a blanket, he was thrown in the coal bin for what seemed like weeks before the Barnabys managed to get him out.
"She's sick, Tim," the first twin mentioned.
"It's not like there's anything I can do," Tim claimed. "I already got in trouble once this week for the stuff you all did. I'm not trying to get in trouble again."
The second twin took the washcloth from the shower before he dipped it into the water for it to soak. He brought it back to the library, to see that his sister was then in a puddle of liquids he couldn't describe β one of which they could both identify as blood.
"Jane, you're -"
"I know β I β It hurts β wh β where's th β the thing?"
"What thing?"
"I need something to cut me open with," she managed. "Unf . . ."
Jane put her fingers into a hole that Mother never bothered to sew back together, before she ripped her sleeve from her dress and balled it into her mouth to bite on.
The twin looked around the library, before he came across a knife in a shadow β box. He pulled it off the shelf and broke the box open, before he took the knife to Jane. He didn't want to go back into the kitchen, because he knew he would be thrown into the coal bin β he couldn't bear the thought of being alone in a dark room without his twin.
"Should you really - ?" he started.
Whatever Jane responded with was garbled and muffled, since the fabric wad was in her mouth. She pointed the blade at her stomach and dug it into her skin, before she shrieked at the pain that shot through her body. Goosebumps traveled up her skin and her body quaked in pain that she had never experienced before. She looked down to see that blood had leaked from her stomach, where she had cut herself open. She trembled and reached a hand out to the twin.
The second twin shrunk back and shook his head. His sister was bleeding on the floor and he didn't know what to do. Nobody knew what was wrong with her, and it wasn't like they could go to a doctor. The second twin was definitely not a doctor, and he didn't know if these moments would be Jane's last moments.
There was a lot of blood.
"Barnaby . . ." she groaned.
"J - Jane -"
She shook her head before she stuffed the fabric back into her mouth, she had to keep going, or else whatever was inside of her would be stuck forever. It needed to get ut, and then they could examine whatever it was. Jane continued to drag the blade along her stomach, and more blood squirt from her body. She cringed at the feeling of hot, burning agony that radiated from her body. She gagged on the fabric, before she coughed it out of her mouth. Her breaths were hitched as she cut open her stomach, and she clenched her eyes shut before she gasped in shock as she felt a burst in the side of her head.
She looked towards the twin, and blinked as she felt herself cry, even though she was well aware that she wasn't crying. Was it sweat?
"J - Jane, there's blood -" the twin stammered.
She touched her eye before she realized he was right.
That was blood.
Her vision was blurrier than it normally was in that eye. That wasn't . . . normal . . . but what was in this situation. She removed the knife from her stomach before she realized that there was something that attempted to break through. With tremored hands, she picked up the knife, saturated with blood, and punctured a hole into where something was moving. She took the blade back out to see that there was a tiny hand that held onto the blade once she retracted the blade.
The second twin jumped and fell onto the ground at the sight of a little hand on the blade β a hand that came out of his sister. What was that?
Jane opened the hole more to see that there was a baby inside of her. She needed to get the baby out, immediately. She dove her hands into herself, before she grabbed the baby by the arms and sat them up, before she pulled them from inside of herself.
The second twin covered his mouth with shaking hands, because he had just witnessed his sister pull a baby from inside herself, and nobody even knew that there was one there. He wanted to vomit, scream, cry, but he was in such a state of shock he could barely even move.
Jane put the baby against her chest, before she pat their back and liquids came from the baby's face, before the baby's face scrunched and the baby screamed. Jane looked down at her soiled dress, but it didn't matter. She was woozy from the blood she had lost, and she knew she needed to comfort and care for this baby. She was more scared of what Mother and Father would say since this baby was simply another mouth to feed. She didn't question how the baby got there, but her state of mind wasn't all that clear.
The door to the library opened and the first twin and Tim came inside with piles of towels and blankets.
Tim dropped the pile he carried at the sound of a baby. Did Mother - ? No, it couldn't be. The noise was too clear in the room. The baby was in the library.
He picked up a towel before he smelled the scent of blood, which the first twin confirmed by scrunching his nose at the smell.
"What is that?" the first twin asked.
"Tim!" The second twin shrieked from behind the book pile. "Tim, help us!"
Tim went to look behind the book pile and gagged at the smell that came from Jane before he noticed that she had something against her chest. He fell over at the sight of her stomach being cut open, and blood being everywhere. It had to have gotten on at the very least ten books of Willoughby documentation and history.
"Tim, she had a baby," the second twin said. "She's cut open and we have to -"
"Sshh . . ." Jane hushed. "Don't panic, or else they're going to cry again."
Tim then noticed that the thing in Jane's arms was indeed a baby, and a million thoughts flooded his mind, but he could only vocalize one.
"Where did that come from?" he asked.
"Inside her!" The second twin cried.
"You had a baby inside of you?" The first twin asked.
She nodded.
Tim covered his mouth and turned away, he blinked and tears fell from his face. That wasn't possible! She couldn't have had a baby, she never . . . she couldn't have. Not from just that. He couldn't help but to cry to himself as he covered his mouth and repeated 'No, no, no . . .' under his breath.
"I'm bleeding . . ." Jane whispered.
"Is that bad ?" the first twin asked.
"Yes, that's bad!" the second one exclaimed. "We need to get her to stop bleeding, or else she might get stuck in the coal bin with the baby!"
"Stop bleeding!" the first twin exclaimed at her stomach.
"We need to close her up!" the second twin shouted. "We need mother's sewing kit!"
"They're still awake," the first twin said. "Tim, can you get the sewing kit?"
The first twin looked over the book pile before he nudged the oldest. He noticed that his older brother was crying, and he nudged him again.
"Tim, can you go and get Mother's sewing kit?" the first twin asked. "Please, we don't want to go to the coal bin. You know Mother and Father would -"
Tim got up and dried his face, before he went back downstairs with his helmet in his hands. Both twins followed behind him, because even if he wasn't able to ween it from their parents, that didn't mean they were unable to steal it while Mother and Father weren't looking.
Tim opened the door to the living room and took a deep breath in.
"Mother, may we borrow your sewing kit?" he asked.
"Always wanting things," Mother sighed. "He's always doing this."
"First it was food, now Mother's sewing kit?" Father asked. "He really does, doesn't he? I should've put him back into the coal bin once I saw him."
He looked behind his mother, to see that the twins had already taken things into their own hands, as they carefully moved Mother's yarn basket from atop the sewing kit.
"Barnabys -" Tim whispered.
The first twin shushed Tim, as they continued to take the sewing kit away from the counter.
"Barnabys?" Mother asked. "Who must you think you're talking to?"
Both parents gasped as one of the Barnabys dropped the small sewing basket. The other one quickly picked the thread spools that fell from the basket before they both rushed into the kitchen.
"He brought the small ones again!" Father exclaimed.
"Where did they go?" Mother asked. "Find them!"
Father got up from his seat, and Tim scrambled back up the stairs behind the twins, before they barricaded themselves into the library. Tim slammed the library door shut, before he locked the top lock to the door and used a stool from the library to jam the door and have more time to control the situation.
"Barnabys!" Tim shouted up the staircase.
There was no response, and he plugged his ears at the sound of their father pounding at the door, and demanding that he open it before he had to open it himself. That meant one of the kids would be thrown into the coal bin for a very long time ( or at least until the others could get them out, but even an hour down there was enough to mess with someone's head. ).
Both the twins were by Jane, as they took the weird cord that attached the baby to Jane, before they managed to pull out the giant, squishy end to the cord. They set it onto the floor and prodded it with their bare fingers.
"We don't need this, right?" the first twin asked.
The second twin simply shuttered at the sight of it.
"Other babies don't have it," Jane whispered. "Take it off."
The first twin used the blade to cut off the cord from the belly button of the baby, before they pushed whatever the squishy thing was off to the side.
Jane simply shushed and rocked the baby as they started to wipe away blood and sew Jane's open wound back up with the water and sewing kit.
Tim looked over the book piles and still couldn't bear to look his sister in the face, not after they β she made a baby. They had to get rid of that thing immediately, or else someone would be thrown into the coal bin, because while Tim was upset with Jane β he didn't want her to go down there. He still cared to a certain extent. He wasn't a complete monster.
"I love her . . ." Jane sighed. "I think I'm going to name her . . ."
"Jane!" Tim exclaimed. "You know our parents hate children! You can't get attached to this baby!"
She pouted and held the baby close to herself.
"Why not?" she asked.
"What if they try to get rid of her?" Tim asked. "Th - Then you're going to live with knowing that you weren't a good enough mother and that you failed your baby. Babies are the most childish children of them all!"
Jane made circles in the baby's wet mess of pinkish red hair and played with the little cowlick she had in the back of her hair. She ignored Tim's statement and continued to admire the little thing she had in her arms, and thought about how cute she was. This little thing in her arms was hers to take care of. She simply planted a kiss on the baby's forehead. She lifted the baby and looked to see that this baby was indeed a girl. Jane then took one of the towels and wrapped her in the towel to keep her warm.
"I like Arpeggio," she announced. "Arpeggio Lavender Noxema Willoughby."
"You have to hide her, now -" Tim insisted.
The door was broken open and he heard the angry footsteps of both of their parents as they came up the stairs.
Tim immediately hid the front of the stack of books, as Jane adjusted the towel that held the baby, so she could attempt to hide the baby in her arms from her parents. One of the Barnabys put the sweater back on, and the other one hid behind the first.
"You let the small ones run off with Mother's sewing kit, and then you lock us out of our own library?" Father asked. "I should send you straight to the coal bin for this -"
Both parents soon made it to the pile of books, before they looked down to see that Jane had the towel in her arms.
"It looks like the girl is harboring another raccoon again," Mother said. "This is dreadful. I'm starting to feel faint, Oh Father, dear!"
"Oh Mother, sweet, don't worry, I'll handle it," Father reassured. "Give me that."
He snatched the towel from Jane before the baby started to scream once again, after being forcefully ripped away from her mother.
"Hey!" Jane cried. "No, give me her back !"
Father then unwrapped the towel to expose the newborn before he gasped in disgust.
"A baby?" he asked.
"Oh, not again . . ." Mother groaned.
"Is this thing yours?" Father asked.
Jane had tears in her eyes, and she bit her lips before she nodded.
"Yes," Jane admitted. "Give her back!"
"Jane, don't -" Tim interrupted.
"She's going to the coal bin," the first twin whispered to the second.
"Yes," the second twin agreed. "She's going to the coal bin."
"Well, if this is yours, then both of you should be punished equally," Father said.
He grabbed Jane by her hair and yanked her from the ground, before he shoved the baby into her arms.
Jane could barely stand, but she held her baby close, and made sure she didn't drop her as their father began to drag her back down into the coal bin. She couldn't help but to cry as the pain she was in hurt β it felt like her insides had to move and her knees weren't nearly strong enough to hold her own weight, but she would do anything to protect the little baby in her arms, because this baby was hers.
Tim stood and watched until Father got to the door, then something triggered in him. He ran to the door and grabbed Father's wrist, while Mother shrieked behind him.
"Father - kins!"
Their father let go of Jane's hair, and she struggled out, before she backed away and sat back down, as she desperately attempted to calm her baby again.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"You leave her alone!" Tim shouted.
He then shoved his father down the stairs, before he watched his father tumble down the flight of stairs. Tim cringed at the sight of their father, as he hit the back of his head against a table in the hallway, and everyone heard a loud crack as he fell to the floor and blood began to pool from their father's head.
"Father!" their mother screamed.
She ran past the siblings, before she herself tripped down the steps and tumbled down. She did the exact same thing as her husband, and landed against the table with a loud crack, except for that she broke the table and a bunch of postcards and letters came flying from the drawer.
Tim walked downstairs, before her picked up a few of the many letters, envelopes, and postcards that were in the drawer. He looked down at his parents, but for some reason, he didn't connect in his mind that he did . . . that. He wanted to believe he didn't, he didn't hurt anyone on purpose, but he couldn't just let Father take Jane to the coal bin, along with a baby.
The baby would suffer in there, starve β speaking of starving, they needed to feed that baby.
Tim gathered the letters as he walked back down to the kitchen. Babies drank milk, right? Moms normally made milk, but he had a good feeling that Jane didn't, so milk it was. He opened the refrigerator, before he found the carton of milk in there. Tim shook it, but all he could hear was the gross splats of the milk against the cardboard walls. He didn't know the last time they had went out to buy groceries. It wasn't like Mother and Father left the house.
He went back upstairs and began to flip through the postcards and squinted at the writing. It was definitely a woman's, and the postcard was from Hawai'i.
"Merry Christmas Walter and Helga, I have sent you a little bit more cash to help out around the house. I hope you are well, and I would love to hear back from my dearest brother and sister β in β law. Mail me back, or you could always call at 808-567-9234. Hugs and kisses from your dear sister, Imogen Willoughby."
Imogen? He had never heard of that name before? He had never seen her in any sort of Willoughby books, because it all focused on their father . . . well, in one chapter of their Grandma Meredith's diary, she did mention having a daughter, but the daughter was shrouded by their father's shadow. It was obvious that Grandma Meredith had a favorite, but now her favorite son was dead, neck broken, on the floor.
So much for favorites.
He looked through the envelopes before he found about one hundred twenty dollars, and thirty six cents. It was enough to get them food for the night, and maybe call this number to talk to their unknown aunt Imogen.
Tim put the money in one of the envelopes and made it back up the stairs.
"We have to go," he said.
"Go where?" the first twin asked.
"Are Mommy and Daddy okay?" the second one asked. "Th - They fell down the stairs."
"What about Arpeggio?" Jane asked. "She doesn't have any clothes, she'll get cold out there, and I just got her to sleep again. She'll cry if she's cold."
"Well, she'll wake up again if we don't get her something to eat," Tim claimed. "Babies need milk, and we don't have any. We can't stay here."
"Why not?" The second twin asked. "Our beds are here."
"Don't ask questions, just come with me," Tim said.
He lead his brothers down the stairs, and covered their eyes as they stepped over their parents. He stood them out on the porch and shut the door behind himself, so the twins didn't look inside to see the corpses of their parents. He knew the young ones would be traumatized, because as he's observed, they still had some sort of attachment to their parents. They were both only eight, so it made sense that they didn't see how horrific their parents were, unlike Tim and Jane both saw.
Tim went back up the stairs and to the library, where Jane rested with the baby.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
She attempted to get up, but she couldn't. Jane shook her head.
Tim sighed before he went and picked her up, and carried her down the stairs. She held Arpeggio close to herself as she looked at the bodies of both of their parents. An uneasiness settled over her body as she looked at them and back at Tim. She knew they weren't turning back after that door shut, but maybe it was for the better. The question was, how were they going to live and survive on their own? Where were they going to go? Did they even have a plan?
Finally Tim shut the door of the house and Jane bounced the baby in her arms and hushed her.
"We need to find somewhere to eat," Tim claimed.
"What about Mommy and Daddy?" the second twin asked.
"They uhm . . . they can't come with us, they're uh . . ." Tim started.
"Sleeping," Jane excused. "Sleeping for a very long time."
"But, uhm, I found this postcard from an aunt of ours," Tim said. "Her name's Imogen and she lives in Hawai'i."
"That's far away," The first twin said.
"Really far," the other emphasized.
"We'll get there, don't worry," Tim soothed. "But first, food."
He led his siblings out the gate and shuttered at the feeling of cool air as it hit his legs. The realization set in that they were on their own now, and their parents were gone. He was in charge, and now they had a baby in tow. Tim was the most knowledgeable about babies, and knew that this one needed to eat something. They all did. It had been days since they had a meal. Their parents ate the leftovers, and the leftovers before that.
"Look at that!" The first twin exclaimed.
He pointed at a small little diner, where there was a girl that sat on the stoop of the diner steps.
Tim read the sign.
"Busy Bee's Kitchen".
That could've been promising.
They approached the diner, before the girl on the step flipped her hair out of her face.
"We're closed," she said. "You can't go in there."
The girl had to have been around the Barnabys age, but she had jet black hair, pale skin, and she had piercings in her nose and in three different places in her ears. She had on messy makeup, that had to have been applied by her fingers ( and she probably stole it from an older person ).
"Oh, uh . . . sorry," Tim said. "We were just looking for some food for the baby."
Jane unfolded the towel to show the young girl the baby.
The girl furrowed her eyebrows before she got off the steps, before she flipped her bangs from her face.
"Well, if this gets me out of watching out for Eva and her boyfriend, I can take you into my room and get you guys some food," she said. "But before I do β my name's Bethany. What are your names ?"
The four siblings looked at eachother, before they looked at the girl β Bethany.
"I'm Tim, this is Jane, and those two are the Barnabys," Tim introduced. "Thank you for taking us in, Bethany."
"And this is Arpeggio," Jane added.
Bethany led the siblings to a ladder that lead to a balcony and an open window, supposedly Bethany's bedroom.
"Don't touch anything, I'll go and get you guys some food," she said.
Bethany got up onto the ladder and both of the twins followed behind her.
Tim set Jane down on top of a dumpster, before she handed him the baby.
"I'll come back for you," he said.
"Okay," she agreed.
Tim carried the baby up the ladder, before he set Arpeggio on the bed, and Bethany started to talk to the twins about her family.
"So, you guys have a baby too?" she asked.
"It's Jane's baby," The first twin claimed.
"She was born today," the second one said.
"But you guys are kids, you can't have babies until you're sixteen," Bethany claimed. "My mom's having a baby, after she just adopted one, and my oldest sister, Ivanna, is having a baby β she's sixteen."
"I watched it happen," the second twin claimed.
"Was there blood?" Bethany asked.
"A lot of blood," the second twin shivered.
Bethany leaned forward and smirked at the twin as their noses touched.
"Tell me more."