Kept In The Dark

Chapter Six: Hear The Howl

Donna thundered up the stairs. Her heart pounded as her pace quickened. The sound of her heavy trainers thumping up the narrow staircase echoed around the small property. She entered her bedroom, and a thick blood stain still clung to the fabric of the carpet. But no sign of Mia.

"Mary!" She called, "Mia?!"

"I'm here," Mary replied as her voice carried from further down the landing.

Donna headed towards Mia's bedroom and carefully pushed open the door.

Mia lay still in the bed. Her face was pale like uncooked pastry with a shiny tinge of sweat. Blood from the wound seeped through from the heavy cotton bandage that was wrapped tightly around her forehead and covered most of her hair. The lines of pain etched underneath her eyes which were usually bright and lively, were dulled. The room was quiet, too quiet. The only sounds that broke the silence were whispered, shallow breaths that escaped Mia's lips. The pretty floral covers were pulled up to her chin, providing a small measure of warmth in the otherwise sterile surroundings.

Mia's body was weakened, evident in the way she lay motionless, lacking the energy to even shift position. She appeared frail, her limbs appearing thinner and more delicate than usual. The accident had taken a toll, robbing her of her vitality and leaving her in a state of vulnerability.

"Mia?" Donna whispered as she carefully entered the room.

Seeing her daughter lying in such a vulnerable position made Donna's heart sink. She could feel the fine fair hairs on her arms stand, and a heavy knot inside her stomach twist again. Donna moved slowly and carefully across the carpet towards Mia's single bed where she perched for a moment. She reached forward and gently swept a stray strand of dark hair out of the girl's closed eyes.

"I wonder what she's dreaming about?" She said to Mary, as she turned to look at her sister.

Mary hovered around close to Mia's chest of drawers where a heavy bag similar to that of a doctor's bag lay. A bright lamp that sat on the drawers, gave off a warm glow.

A strange smell clung to the curtains and the atmosphere. Donna's nose twitched. Although she wasn't like her daughter, she could still smell it as the strong musty smell like a cross between old leather and dampness drifted up her nose. She coughed loudly, not once, but twice and found herself covering her mouth with her hand.

Donna could hear her sister pottering around behind her. She twisted her body around to see exactly what she was doing.

Mary hovered by the chest of drawers, packing items back into her large leather case as she hummed an old folk song to herself. Donna watched, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something strange. Just as her sister was about to return it to the bag, Donna stood. Through narrowed blue eyes she watched, standing just a couple of feet away from Mary.

At first glance, it looked like a sewing needle on the chest of drawers, something that Mia might have put there by accident having forgotten to pack it away. But Donna hadn't seen Mia sew anything for what felt like ages and she knew her daughter well enough to know she would never leave anything like that around with her younger siblings around. Mia was too mature for that. Donna moved closer and quickly realised she was wrong. Very wrong. It was the long slender plastic tube that the needle appeared to be attached to, that gave it away.  As she approached she realised it was a syringe—one of those long, skinny needles used for injections.

A frosty shiver ran down Donna's back. She froze in her tracks, unsure of what to do. She knew what it was, but what on Earth was it doing in Mia's bedroom and why would Mary want to put it back in her bag? As a mother of two young kids, the thought of one of them going anywhere near it made her blood run cold.