A Neat Mess

15.Fractured Trust

It was a beautiful sunny day and Sam had just brought Aggie back from the "Doll's hospital." and Jenna could no longer blackmail Lucille. Jenna was allowed back to school and there hadn't been any coming reports from school.

Each day after work, Sam still performed a 'peace of mind' full body check on Jenna to make sure there were no cuts or scratches. She was close to being convinced that all Jenna needed was more attention at home.

The only problem was that Jenna seemed as if she didn't like Lucille as much as she used to, which with Lucille being always around was understandable.

It was early in the evening when Sam was heading home and reviewing her meeting with her new client. Luckily, the meeting finished earlier than she'd expected and she realised it wasn't worth going back to the office, so she decided to drive home after a very quick stop at the local grocery store.

Sam thought that it wasn't a bad idea to surprise the girls. Although all of Sam's efforts on finding the issue in other people around turned out to be a witch-hunt.

Sam decided to park the car a block away and approach discreetly, but her plan crumbled the moment she reached the front door and was engulfed by a cacophony of piercing screams. Her heart raced with mounting terror as the guttural, frantic cries echoed through the house. It's happening, Sam thought, her dread tightening like a vice. In her panic, her groceries spilled out of the bags and scattered across the ground. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she fumbled with her keys, desperately trying to unlock the door. The screams, escalating in intensity and desperation, clawed at her nerves, coming from somewhere upstairs, fuelling her escalating anxiety.

"My baby is in danger," Sam's mind screamed as she burst through the door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She bolted upstairs, her legs moving as if in a nightmare, and flung Jenna's door wide open. The sight that met her eyes stopped her cold, her heart pounding like a drum.

Lucille was sprawled on the floor, her face smeared with dark, crimson streaks. Her eyes were wide with terror and pain as she fought to fend off Jenna, who was straddling her chest. In Jenna's small, trembling hand, a jagged shard of a broken mug gleamed menacingly. The scene was a violent, surreal tableau—Lucille's hands flailed desperately, trying to shove Jenna's arm away, her struggle leaving a trail of bloodied smudges on the floor.

Jenna's face was twisted with a fierce, unrelenting fury, her tiny frame trembling with a mix of rage and fear as she tightened her grip on the shard. The chaotic clash of desperation and violence unfolded before Sam's horrified eyes, each second stretching into an eternity as she fought to process the horrifying reality.

Sam charged forward, wrapping an arm around Jenna's torso and lifting her off Lucille. With her other hand, she gripped Jenna's wrist tightly, squeezing until Jenna dropped her weapon.

"Go stand in that corner and stay silent! BAD GIRL!" Sam yelled, her voice sharp and trembling.

Jenna took a few steps back and shouted "It was her fault!"

"STOP TALKING!" Sam snarled through clenched teeth.

As Sam helped Lucille to her feet, she could feel every rib and vertebra along her back. Lucille had always been slender, but had she always been this frail? Sam thought with a pang of realisation—no wonder Jenna could knock her down so easily.

Sam guided the wounded girl to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit and clean her up. Lucille was mostly scratched, but one wound was notably deeper and likely required stitches.

"That must have been the first hit, when she caught me off-guard," Lucille said, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"We need to get you to the ER; you might need stitches. What on earth happened!?"

"Jenna asked me to read for her before her afternoon nap. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, so I must have drifted off myself. I don't think I was out for long, but I jolted awake with the first blow to my face. Jenna was kneeling beside me, gripping something sharp. Before I could fully grasp what was happening, the second and third strikes came, but I managed to fend off some of the hits. Through her fury, she muttered something about me breaking her dad's favourite mug. I might have knocked it over while I was asleep, but I'm not sure how it broke. Well...you saw the rest."

The drive home from the hospital was steeped in absolute silence. Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on Jenna. She was sitting in the backseat, calm and composed, as if nothing had happened. Sam could have sworn she saw the corner of Jenna's mouth twitch into a slight smile, as if she were recalling something amusing. There was no sign of regret or concern on her face. What is a mother to do with a child who feels neither guilt nor fear

Sam's mind was a whirlwind of scenarios, a typical trait of hers. Could Jenna be seeking revenge on Lucille for some past wrongdoing? What provoked Jenna's outburst of anger like that?

She recalled Jenna's actions towards her classmates and their younger siblings, which seemed to dismiss the revenge idea. Yet, Sam briefly pondered if she might derive some strange pleasure from punishment—was she perhaps masochistic?

She could not find the chance to talk to Jenna until that night, but when she did, Jenna's story matched Lucille's. But if anything, their explanations were a little too similar.