chapter 4!
EPISODE: STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT
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Margaret's eyes shot open, and she stared at the ceiling, sweat dripping down her face.
What on earth? The last thing she remembered was killing the replica of her father (the plant clone thing), and now, she was waking up in bed.
Had it all been a dream? It was certainly bizarre enough to be a dream.
"Margaret, breakfast!" her father called from downstairs, and Margaret swung her feet off the bed and stood. Time to test her dream theory for herself…
She hoped it was a dream. Otherwise, she was either hallucinating or had passed out in the basement, and neither of those seemed like good alternatives to the dream theory.
Margaret walked down the steps in her pajamas (now she knew she hadn't passed out. If she had, she'd still be in her clothes from the basement incident).
She walked into the kitchen to find her father flipping pancakes on the stove (no green plant food! Thank goodness), but Casey was no where in sight.
"Where's Casey?" she asked, sitting down at the kitchen table. "He's always first down for breakfast."
Her father looked over his shoulder at her, knitting his eyebrows.
"Who's Casey? I love you, Princess, but you're a little old for imaginary friends."
Margaret frowned. "Casey. My brother?"
Her father laughed. "Margaret, did you stay up late again texting Stacie? You don't have a brother."
Margaret chuckled. "Very funny, Dad. I'll go get the brother that I do have."
Her father turned away from the stove to stare at her back as she approached the staircase.
"Margaret, are you feeling okay?" he called after her, but she didn't reply as she ascended the stairs and knocked on Casey's door.
"Casey!" she called through the wood. "Breakfast!"
Nothing.
She knocked again. "Casey?"
Nothing.
She sighed in irritation.
"If you're playing your DS and are too distracted to answer me, I'll-" she stopped short as she opened the door.
Casey's bed. Casey's dresser. Casey's toys and sports equipment. Casey's DS, which he seemed to cherish even more than oxygen. All gone.
Casey's room was a lab.
Beakers, test tubes, and a bunch of science equipment Margaret didn't know the names for were piled high on tables.
But that was impossible. Dad's lab was in the basement, and where was Casey's room? More importantly, where was Casey?
Margaret sprinted from room to room, opening door after door and glancing into the rooms. Bathroom, master bedroom, closet, her room. No Casey. Not even another bedroom.
Margaret raced down the steps and noticed her father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, having finished cooking breakfast. He looked very confused.
"Margaret, what are you-"
She interrupted him by slamming the door to the final room she'd checked. Still no Casey. No other bedroom. No sign that her brother even lived here. Even his video games had vanished from the shelf beside the TV.
There was only one room she hadn't checked.
She threw open the basement door and took the steps two at a time.
No bedroom. No wild plants. No lab. No Casey. It was a room painted a dreary gray with piles of boxes and old toys (girls toys. No boys) and nothing else. It looked like the basement before her dad turned it into a lab.
"Margaret!" her father yelled, following her. "You know you're not supposed to be down here by yourself!"
Margaret didn't see why, but she didn't care.
"Where's Casey?" she demanded.
Her father frowned. "There is no Casey. Are you feeling okay?" her father asked, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. "You do feel a little warm. Let's get you back to bed."
"But… Casey…" Margaret trailed off, feeling puzzled and defeated, before allowing herself to be lead to her room.
Margaret was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was whirling with all the things she'd learned, all the possibilities of where Casey was.
Had it all been a dream? The plants, the basement, the plant clone of her dad? Had her whole life with Casey been a dream? It was so vivid.
But now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall many details. She couldn't recall Casey's middle name. She couldn't recall his favorite color or his favorite food or his favorite video game. Even now, as she laid in her bed, every detail was beginning to fade. His age, his height, his hair color… even more obvious things were becoming hazy in her memory.
She couldn't lose the last thing she had of him.
Margaret had always been a good artist. She picked up a sketchbook and sketched a picture of Casey, watching an illustration of her brother bleed across the page.
She stared at the picture of Casey. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but… she wanted her irritating little brother back. All her life, she'd wanted to be an only child. Now that she lost Casey… she immediately retracted that wish.
Margaret went to sleep and prayed when she woke up, this life without Casey was the dream and not the other way around.
When she awakened, Casey was still no where to be found.
Margaret curled up on her side in her bed and cried herself to sleep.
She'd learned from experience that her dreams could be better than reality.
Margaret dreamed of a life with a little brother, and when she awakened, she would've given anything to return to the dream where Casey existed. She often revisited the Dream world to simply be with Casey, but she would inevitably wake up and have to live her life without the brother she so desperately wanted by her side.
Sometimes dreams are the best things.
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