There's some suicidal ideation in this chap, so read with caution. Believe it or not, it is possible for a child to want to end it all.
"Will we get ice cream today?" eight-year-old Sophia shook the yellow Magic 9 ball in her palm, her twin brother waiting in anticipation. Sitting face to face on the floor of their shared bedroom, Sophia held the ball for both to see 'Most likely' appear from the hallow sphere.
"Sweet!" eight-year-old Timmy exclaimed, taking the fortune ball from Sophia for his turn. Thinking of what he wanted to know before he asked "Will I get a kiss from Trixie?"
"Ewwww, that's gross!" Sophia teased, imagining her brother getting cooties from her best friend.
"Only gross from any other girl but Trixie!" Timmy smirked, shaking the ball in his hands. When he turned the ball to read 'Very doubtful,' his bottom lip jutted. "Darnit!" he pouted as Sophia giggled as she took the Magic 9 ball from him.
"Let's ask something else!"
Timmy observed as Sophia held the ball and tapped her chin for another question, smiling from the sparkle of glee in her blue eyes. From playing with his action figures to playing with her dolls, from playing in their treehouse to predicting the future with their Magic 9 ball. Quality time spent with his twin sister always brightened his day.
"Ooooooh, I know!" Sophia gleamed, giving direct eye contact. Her blue eyes bright yet…somehow blank. The curl in her lips curved almost unnaturally, stalling an uncomfortable amount of time before her squeaky voice asked "…am I gonna die?"
Timmy's smile soon frowned, creeped out by her toothy smile. "…um…I-I don't think-"
Sophia shook the ball in her hands with unblinking eyes fixed on him. Shivering his spine the more she shook. Her hands then stopped with arms extended, palms faced up. Not looking at the ball, her expression permanent.
Timmy cringed under her frozen smile, unsure if even he wanted to know what answer Magic 9 predicted, until he swallowed and lowered his eyes that grew wide from the ball's response…
'You're already dead.'
Crimson oozed from the yellow plastic shell, dripping into small puddles. Seeping into the blue grains of the wooden floor. The ball dropped like dead weight into the puddle as baby-blue eyes slowly trailed from the ball to his sister. Petrified from what appeared before him.
Her pupils sunk inside their sockets, exposing only the whites of her eyes. Trails of crimson liquid oozed from her head, streaming down. Staining her pink bow, her brunette hair was painted dark red and her mouth was fixed in a silent scream. Covered in so much blood…her blood.
Her body fell lifelessly onto her blood, and his scream rang in a loud echo.
His scream jolted him upright as he awoke in a start, morbid fear wide in his eyes. Blinking to adjust to the subtle tint of moonlight peeking through his bedroom window. The ten-year-old drew a shaky hand to his pounding chest, forcing deep breaths. Light-pink cotton stuck to his skin in a cold sweat.
"…are you okay, sport?" he heard his godmother's voice, darting eyes to the fishbowl where two goldfish stared with great concern. He averted their gaze as Sophia's silent, bloody scream flashed in his mind, breathing heavily. Whimpering as his fingers started scratching, clawing at his right sleeve. The greater pressure swelled in his chest, the deeper and faster his nails dug through the fabric.
Cosmo and Wanda transformed from their goldfish disguise before Cosmo flew to his godchild, grabbing the child by both wrists. Timmy didn't resist yet his eyes rejected his godfather, grunting frustration through flared nostrils. The fairy couple saw hints of tears glisten in the corner of Timmy's eyes, and Wanda offered comfort by floating closer to him, setting a tender hand to his shoulder.
He jerked his shoulder from her touch and yanked his wrists from Cosmo's grasp, fighting the urge to cry.
"Timmy…" Wanda frowned alongside her husband as Timmy's efforts failed, shame glossing his glare.
"We're here for you, champ." Cosmo's gentle reassurance could not stop Timmy's tears from rolling down his cheeks.
"No…" Timmy refused, more ashamed at himself than angry at them. Unwilling to accept their love, their comfort. Murders don't deserve love and comfort…
Troubled, Cosmo reached out a hand. "Timmy-"
"NO!" Timmy jumped out of bed, running towards his closet. His access to a hiding place was denied when chained locks magically appeared over the door. Ignoring this, he tugged and pulled at the knob with all his might. The knob refused to budge, and Timmy glared at the fairies through his tears. "I wish my closet was unlocked!"
Though Cosmo crossed his arms defiantly, his wife followed protocol and removed the locks that her husband had placed. The chains disappeared in a blink before Timmy yanked the knob, running inside as he slammed himself inside the darkness of his closet.
Cosmo wanted to go after him, but Wanda grabbed his arm. "Leave him be, babe." she softly recommended, though her eyes shared the same desire to help, to just take their godchild's pain away. "I think he just needs space…"
The fairy couple jumped when three bangs boomed from inside the closet as a raging growl was stifled by insulated walls.
. . . . . .
The lone boy's hair danced in the autumn winds of grey overcast as he stood on the street corner near the train tracks, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he waited for the school bus that was running slightly behind. Chester had an early orthodontist appointment and AJ would miss part of the morning for his doctor's checkup, so Timmy was alone. His mood didn't mind the solitude; all he wanted was to close his eyes and…never open them again. Even when he was honest about this to his parents that morning, his mom and dad told him to his face that nothing was wrong with him. "Stop being so dramatic; we all have to do what we don't want!"
He'll keep that in mind the next time he thinks about raiding their medicine cabinet for pills…
"…are you alright, Timmy?" his pink wristband spoke, his exhaustion staring at the age cracked in white pavement.
"…do you wanna talk?" his green wristband tried, only for Timmy to remain eerily silent.
"…were you serious about this morning?" Wanda frowned troubledly. "About…sleeping forever?"
Tensing his muscles, Timmy clenched his jaw.
"We don't want you to sleep forever, Timmy…" Cosmo pouted. "You're too young to think like that."
"…just like Sophia was too young to die?"
Cosmo and Wanda shared troubled stares from the darkness that deepened his shrill voice, just as darkness stifled his spirit. Timmy didn't sound like Timmy. He sounded like he'd already died inside.
As worn breaks squealed to a stop, the bus's red lights flashed as double doors slid open. Timmy dragged his feet as he boarded the bus, pausing upon seeing raven ponytails staring out the front seat window. He heard the doors his shut behind him, catching his balance from the bus wasted little time moving forward to the next stop. Just seeing her was a bitter reminder of how much Tootie had hyped the God that she worshiped. A bitter reminder of her false promise, how if he just prayed with all his might, Jehovah God would work miracles.
Feeling eyes on the back of her neck, Tootie turned with a small gasp, a flutter in her chest as she stared at his grave gaze towards her. Fearful that beneath the magical guise of her concealment wish, he could see the welts and belt burns from last night's punishment. Her fear was disproven when his silence soon walked away, and she shifted in her seat to see the dark cloud over his head in his travel down the aisle to the very last seat on her left.
Turning to the suburban scenery passing by in a blur, Timmy crosses his arms. Slanting his brow as he thought back to two years ago, the night Sophia died in the hospital. Tootie was wrong, because God didn't save Sophia. Nothing saved Sophia. Not modern medicine, not love…not faith.
"…I-I just don't understand." he spoke up, shaking his head "…if God is so good or whatever, then why does he let kids die?"
"I don't know, sport…" Wanda sighed, genuinely remorseful "…I wish there was a right answer to that." Or an answer grounded in facts and not fiction.
Jaded, Timmy's grimace creased further. Despair uttered past his lips "…I wish Sophia was back."
Unsure if Timmy was serious, Cosmo and Wanda gave disheartened looks before Cosmo spoke for them both "…sorry, champ. Da Rules says we can't bring the dead back to life."
"Of course…" Timmy grumbled, once again foiled by magic's stupid restrictions. If only he could trade his life for Sophia's…or maybe, he should just join her.
The young billionaire strolled silently with folded arms, traveling alongside the popular kids as they entered the school. Making their way to Principal Waxelplax's office for the student council meeting before the first bell.
"You guys know that Othman kid? Sanjeep or whatever?" Chad, co-president, started a new conversation among the group. "He stopped me in the hall yesterday bothering me about funds for that stupid Library Assistants Club."
"Wow." Tad, the other co-president, scoffed with a disinterested hand on his hip. "What for?"
"Money for new books." Chad elaborated. "Said the books in the library are falling apart."
"Cuz they're old and decrepit! Duh!" Veronica, the council secretary, interjected. Annoyed at how much pointless clubs ask for money they don't need. "Who cares!?"
"Clearly, those dorks do." Trixie, Historian and political reporter for the newspaper, remarked as she cared more for her fresh manicure. "But we gotta have the budget first." she smiled to Remy on her right. "What does our treasurer think?"
Remy had no room in his clouded mind to think about a school budget, trapped in the taboo of last night in his nanny's bedroom…
Stripped down to his briefs as adult eyes admired him, his nanny was also unclothed except for his boxers. Their chests were in close proximity, one riddled in hair with the other clean shaven.
"Come here…" his nanny cooed, and Remy obeyed. Allowing long arms to embrace him, skin to skin. Fenwick cradled the side of Remy's hair to his torso as Remy hugged him back. Calloused fingers dancing in blond strands as his other hand lowered past Remy's shoulder blade, rubbing the base of his back. "Shh…" Fenwick's finger trailed from Remy's hair to his cheek, brushing the dampness that Remy didn't realize was there until he sniffed. "…don't cry, baby."
Silent tears continued to stream as Fenwick continued to rub his back with gentle, reassuring strokes. Remy allowed himself to latch onto the love his soul ached for, sniffing again as heartache closed his eyes.
"That's right…" Fenwick squeezed him tighter, the softest lips planting a kiss atop the boy's forehead. "…Fenny loves you."
His hand roamed down the boy's back, and Remy's eyes flew open when a warm hand reached inside the backside of his briefs. Gently massaging, cupping him. Sensual moans droned in his ear, feeling a pulsing poke from adult boxers-
"Yo, Bux! Come back to earth!" Tad's hand waving in his face made Remy blink startled before Remy promptly slapped the hand away.
"Sheesh, you're always in your own little world!" Veronica griped.
"Oh, leave him alone!" Trixie defended, lacing an arm around his awkward shoulders. "He's just dark and mysterious!"
"No, just have a lot on my mind…" Remy gritted his teeth, lifting her hand with two fingers to remove her arm around him.
"Like what? Reminding yourself how much endless amount of money you have?" Veronica sneered snootily.
"Or counting the number of yachts and limos you have!" Chad chimed in, walking beside Veronica.
"Or moping because your personal chef served day-old caviar with your pouched egg!" Tad chortled, hive-fiving Chad who was chuckled along with him.
Remy's grimace looked away, and Trixie glared at her friends' irrelevant banter. "Sheesh, lay off, will you?!"
Veronica was the first to notice the pink-hatted boy exit the regular boy's bathroom, walking alone with his head hung. Fine; since Trixie didn't want them teasing her little cash cow, why not have fun with a useless nobody?
Just as Timmy was about to mind his business and walk past them, Veronica stuck out her leg. Making him stumble over her pink boot before he faceplanted gray tile.
Other students that were scattered throughout the hall joined the popular kids in howls of laughter. The only ones not laughing were Trixie squinted her annoyed glare at her 'best friend,' Remy with crossed arms and a brooding brow, and Timmy who staggered to his feet with spite in his glare.
Laughter turned to gasps when the pink-hatted boy charged at the blonde, shoving her with his scrawny arms' might into the nearest locker. Her back smacked against cold metal as his firm finger stabbed her chest. "DO it again!" he growled, shock and fear bulging her blue eyes. "I dare you."
"Hey, punk!" Chad came to Veronica's defense, pushing Timmy away from her. "Boys don't hit girls!"
On straight demon time, Timmy pushed him back. "Kiss my butt, douchebag!"
"YO!" a New Jersey accent bellowed as a giant man appeared, bulky shoulders broad in his lavender blazers. Jet black hair slicked back, the same black hairs on his chest was visible beneath his white tank where a gold medallion hung, black skinny jeans footed with leather Tecovas. The bouncer stood in front of Chad, shielding the popular boy from an obvious threat. Cracking his knuckles as he glared down at the simpleton. "We gotta problem?!"
Having smoke for anybody who want it, Timmy responded with a flick of his middle finger as high as he could reach. "Screw you, lackey!"
Oooh murmured through the crowd the bouncer snatched Timmy by the collar of his shirt, dangling him eye level with his scowl. "You wanna die?!"
Timmy deepened his scowl. "Do you?!"
"I'd watch what you say next, kid!"
"I'd shove a breath mint down your throat, jerk!"
"Let him go."
Everyone, including Timmy and the bouncer, acknowledged the young billionaire approaching the bouncer. Mint eyes stern as he crossed arms against his chest.
"Uh…yous sure?" the bouncer arched a brow.
"…yes." Remy stayed firm, choosing to trust the judgement of his purple wristwatch. "Put him down."
"…need I explain tha chart?"
"Now, preferably."
Trixie exchanged quizzical looks with the other popular kids as the bouncer, having no choice but to obey, released the boy midair. Dropping Timmy flat on his backside before he turned and waltzed away as if he hadn't just threatened a child's life ten seconds ago.
Timmy groaned as he rubbed his sore butt, pushing himself to one knee before a hand outstretched in unexpected offering. Blue lifted to mint-green, also noting the purple watch around the wrist that was extended. Remy, surprisingly patient, waited until the hand cuffed with a green wristband accepted his gesture, though distrust lingered in his slit brow as Timmy was helped to his feet, grumbling "Thanks…"
"The heck are you doing, Bux?!" Tad questioned what everyone was likely thinking.
Remy ignored him, focused on the bucktoothed boy who turned and stormed off in the opposite direction not long after. No clue as to why his godfather had suggested he step in, or why a part of him had initially felt inclined to do so.
Ms. Modell continued her lecture on proper sentence structure as Tootie sat near the back row, doodling a flying raven in the corner of the worksheet that she was supposed to be following along with.
"Love doesn't slash you with a belt or throw you on the ground and break your arm. All for something that was not in your control."
Tootie looked to the arm, broken bones mended with magic. Brushing a finger along the goosebumps in her skin, reminded of her sister pleading vow to set her free.
"And if 'God is Love,' then why would a loving God condone that?"
Her finger stopped before it could touch her teal bracelet, teal eyes distracted in a daydream to pass time when she wasn't needed.
"You did exactly what you were told to do, and you still got crap for it!"
Her chest tightened, seeing her father's wrath as he struck down with his leather rod. Shifting in her seat when phantom burns stung in her skin.
"I just think that when it comes to 'honor thy mother and father,' there's a fine line."
Tootie's shifting snapped the teal bracelet out of her daydream, acknowledging her godchild with her friendly grin.
"Never question Jehovah God. Always have faith in Him."
Lacking the will to smile, Tootie pressed her lips inward, spiritually conflicted.
Colossians 3: 8-10; But now, you must put them all away from your wrath, anger, badness, abusive speech, and obscene talk out of your mouth. Do not lie to one another. Strip off the old personality with its practices, and clothe yourselves with the new personality, which though accurate knowledge is being made new according to the image of the One who created it.
If Tootie remembered correctly, that meant to leave disordered anger that comes from disordered love for righteous anger that comes from the love of Jehovah. To let go of the bad stuff when you become Jehovah's child in order to be the image of love and its Creator. Then again, you can't have a God of love without a God who gets angry, because when something He loves is threatened, if He acts indifferent, that's not love.
Does that mean to show love, you can be angry, too? Because when her father beats her, he's always so angry…is that because of how much he loved her? Because he was trying to save her from veering down the wrong path? In the same token, Rose had a point. Love doesn't hurt, because why would someone who loves you…want to hurt you?
A shiver shocked her spine as the bell pierced her ears, signaling the beginning of lunch period. Her classmates eagerly gathered their belongings as she quietly gathered hers, storing her doodled worksheet in one of her binders before shoving it into her backpack. Majority of the students had already left the class before Tootie stood from her chair, being the very last student to walk past the 4th grade teacher who was getting her materials for grading tests.
"Dorothy?!" Ms. Modell called from her desk, startling the child. "Stay behind, please, I'd like to speak with you."
Tootie bit her lip, fearing the worst. Was her concealment wish not working? Were her scars visible…even the scars inside?
"You're not in trouble." the teacher guaranteed with a smile. "Just want to speak in private; shut the door, please?"
Nervous yet curious, Tootie went to close the door before quivering legs brought her to stand before Ms. Modell's desk. Folding arms over her desk, Ms. Modell met Tootie's apprehension with a calm, kind voice.
"I couldn't help but notice...you seem a little sad today. Did Winston or anyone pick on you again?"
Still biting her lip, Tootie shook her head.
"Is everything okay at home?"
Tootie fiddled with her fingers, unsure of how to answer.
"It's okay. You can talk to me." Ms. Modell sensed her hesitancy, and when Tootie quietly looked away, the teacher offered a warm smile "I care about all of my students." she assured. "I'd like to know what's going on. Maybe see if I can help?"
Jehovah did not like words spoken from a false tongue; however, exposing what her father had done could put him and her mother in a bad light. Her parents had warned her of Proverbs 30:17 if she brought dishonor to their name, so after a lot of internal consideration, Tootie settled on a half-truth "…m-my sister got hurt."
"Vicky?" Ms. Modell remembered one of her former students from what felt like ages ago. "How?"
"…my father spanked her with a belt." I mean, that did happen, multiples times. Mostly when Jim wanted to punish Vicky for misbehavior that couldn't wait for her to go fetch a switch. It just…y'know…didn't happen last night.
"How hard was Vicky spanked with the belt?" Ms. Modell questioned suspiciously.
"Really hard…" Tootie mumbled, flashing back to sheer agony.
"Does this happen often?"
Tootie stalled. "…when she's bad."
"How often is she bad?"
"…a-a lot."
"And how does that make you feel?"
A pang of shame slashed her spirit, fighting back tears "…r-really bad…"
Noting the child's briming tears, nurturing compassion fell in her features "…why?"
Shame escaped in the tears that began to flow as she hung her head, squeezing stinging eyes as her shoulders rocked. Wanting to give her a hug yet wanting to respect whatever boundaries Tootie may have, Ms. Modell held out her hands "…may I hold your hands?"
Tootie blinked in her timid inch towards the desk. A tremble in her fingers as she held them out, permitting the teacher to take him with gentle strokes of her thumbs. "It's okay to discipline children but it's never okay to hit them. Especially when it hurts them." she paused from an idea as Tootie hitched sobs, hopeful this may cheer up her student "…would you like to have lunch with me today?" she sweetly offered. "You can go get your tray and just bring it in here. I could use the company while I grade."
Retracting one hand to wipe her eyes, Tootie turned to her teal bracelet, finding the fairy's smile of silent approval before she looked back to Ms. Modell's generous grin. Out of all the faculty at Dimmsdale Elementary, she'd never thought her 4th grade teacher would be an outlier from the rest. To see the pain behind her eyes, while everyone else turned a blind eye.
. . . . . .
The 5th grade teacher glanced at the wall clock impatiently at ten past the hour, the last student in his classroom cutting ten minutes into his forty-minute lunch break. He sighed in his desk chair as the platinum-blonde overachiever sat scribbling the last of her paragraph, responding to the very last prompt of her Social Studies test. Her test was smudged in multiple rubs of eraser, scuffed in pencil marks of crossed-out words or phrases not deemed spot on to her standards. Knuckles turning white from her gritted grip on her pencil, she battled the thump in her heart stealing oxygen from her brain, blinking hazy letters back into focus as a wave of dizziness threatened to come on.
Exhausting majority of his feigned patience, Mr. Crocker slammed a palm on his desk, making the stressed test-taker jerk slightly. "I've already given you more than enough time to finish!" he griped. "Believe it or not, I actually want to enjoy my break from you fairy magnen-" he swiftly corrected himself with an awkward cough. "I-I mean…you kids."
Eyes glued to her paragraph, Chloe held a single finger, still scribbling her responses despite the words blurring on the page.
"Even Turner finished his quiz before you!" Mr. Crocker stood from his chair, taking the few short steps towards the front row of desks. "Well…" he then considered "…he didn't finish, per say. He just scribbled a bunch of kooky nonsense all over the page."
"Please, Mr. Crocker, I just have one last question!" Chloe pleaded. She can't fail this test…
"Y'know, not that I care…" Mr. Crocker spoke bluntly, towering above Chloe's head. "…but your classmates might find it a little 'unfair' that the smartest girl in school gets all this extra time to complete what everyone else had to finish within the hour."
"I have to ace this quiz!" her blue eyes begged for mercy. "If I don't, my average will drop even more!"
"Sounds like a personal problem!" Unwilling to wait another second, Mr. Crocker snatched the test off Chloe's desk mid-scribble.
"NO!" her voice cracked, devastation glossed in her eyes. "Please! Let me finish!"
"You are finished!" Mr. Crocker countered, pointing towards the door. Insensitive to Chloe's shallowing breaths. "Now go be a normal kid!"
Blue eyes watered in their silent plea, receiving no sympathy from her teacher's harsh brow. Shallow breaths bordered hyperventilation, desperate to flee before all sense of control was lost. Chloe rushed to gather her pencil and backpack before she shot from her desk, her chair falling backwards in a crash as her sandals fled as fast as they could. Bursting through the door and down the hall, scattered and terrified of total failure. Unaware of what direction she ran until she was knocked to her feet by an unknown force.
"Oh, I-I'm sorry!" another girl's voice beat Chloe to penitence.
"N-No, I-I'm sorry…" she sniffed, stammering to her feet. Longing to disappear, runaway as far as possible. In the small moment of clarity, Chloe blinked as a clear view of raven ponytails and purple glasses stood before her. Embarrassment blushed in her cheeks, struggling with eye contact.
"…a-are you okay?" came her meek question, timid fists held tight to her the chest of her black sweater vest.
Her question sounded muted in Chloe's ringing ears, far off in the distance, despite standing mere inches in front of her. The vertigo distorting her vision had no time to respond, lockers and walls warping into a fisheye's view. Breathing became a gasping battle for air, numbness tingling her fingers and toes. Chloe was losing control, and fast. No need subjecting this random stranger to her insanity…
Chloe sped past in wild haste, oblivious to Tootie's watchful stare.