A Neat Mess

30. Chasing a Shadow

It was well past midnight when Sam jolted awake, her heart racing. As she glanced around the room, a pale, translucent orb hovered ominously beside her bed, its shape shifting eerily. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the orb remained, twisting and morphing in the darkness. Panic surged through her, and she whipped her gaze to the unholy shrine in the corner of the room, only to see the phantom vanish.

Her stomach lurched as she bolted out of bed and raced to Jenna's room. The bed was empty. Panic gripped her—maybe Jenna was in the bathroom? It was deserted, too. Fear surged as she sprinted downstairs. The kitchen was empty, the house eerily silent. Her legs shook, and her mind raced. The doors were locked—Jenna couldn't have left. She dashed back upstairs, shaking Ben awake, breathless. "Ben, Jenna's gone!" she choked out.

Ben bolted out of bed and hurried to Jenna's room. There, in the bed, lay Jenna, peacefully asleep. Sam stared, dumbfounded. "But she wasn't there... I swear I looked everywhere," she murmured, feeling utterly lost.

Ben touched the bed, noting its warmth. "She's been here the whole time. Did you have a bad dream?" he asked gently.

Sam nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at her. Had she imagined it all? Was her life becoming a nightmare she couldn't wake up from? As they returned to bed, Ben tried to hold her close—a rare gesture these days—but she recoiled.

Ben's voice cut through the silence. "You can't sleep?"

"She wasn't there, she wasn't there, she wasn't there..." was all going through her head.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered before drifting back to sleep.

But Sam was far from alright. Was she losing her grip on reality? The blackouts were returning, and the thought that she might be harming her own daughter without any memory of it was terrifying.

Maybe it was time to speak to a real professional—definitely not Pip. Pip was a fresh-out-of-school greenhorn, more of a clown than a therapist. Sam needed someone with actual experience, someone she knew who had once been considered one of the best in the field.

The next day, Sam called Ben to let him know she needed to see a doctor about her night terrors after work. Ben wondered if this was another one of her schemes or if she was genuinely seeking help. He weighed his options—following her himself would be too risky, but he knew people in his line of work who could handle it for him.

Ben was about to leave work when Lucille called him, crying. "You have to come home as soon as you can, Ben, please..."

"What's wrong? Is Jenna okay?" Ben asked nervously.

"She's okay, but I'm not. I want to leave, but I don't want to leave her alone. I can't tolerate her for another second. Please come home."

"Okay, I'm coming home. But tell me what happened."

"She's been an absolute pain since I've been back..." she sobbed. "Please come home..." she shrieked, and Ben could hear the sound of something crashing. "Stop it, Jenna! Stop it!" she continued. "She just threw a vase at me. I'm leaving soon."

"Okay, I'm coming now. Have you called Sam yet?"

"No."

Ben wasn't sure why Lucille called him first—but if Lucille was planning to leave, Sam needed to be involved.

"Hi, Sam. Lucille just called, and I think they had another fight. She sounded very upset. I'm going home now; can you also come?"

They arrived simultaneously to a very quiet house, with no sign of either of the girls.

"JENNA?" Sam shouted. "LUCILLE?"

"Up here, please come upstairs," Lucille's voice came from behind a closed door.

Instinctively, they ran upstairs to Jenna's room. She was sitting on the floor, playing peacefully. "Afternoon, Mom and Dad."

Sam and Ben exchanged a look. Ben mouthed, "Afternoon?"

"Hi, sweetie. Where's Lucille?"

"I'm here," Lucille responded, sticking her head out of their bedroom, the door open just enough for her to see them.

"What happened, Lucille? What are you doing in there? You scared us."

"Does she have a knife with her?" Lucille asked.

"She's just playing in her room with her dolls. What are you talking about?" Sam replied, puzzled—Jenna normally didn't sit peacefully playing unless she had done something really satisfying, in other words, diabolical.

"Please check if she doesn't have it. I'm worried she might hurt someone, including herself," Lucille insisted.

Ben, standing closer to Jenna's door, peeked in again and shook his head—there was no knife. Sam whispered to Ben to stay with Jenna and then pushed into the room where Lucille was hiding. As she walked in, she noticed bruises on Lucille's right leg and arm, along with a minor swelling on her right cheek.

"Oh my god, what happened? Who did this to you?" Sam asked, helping Lucille sit at the bottom of the bed.

"It was a normal day. Jenna was playing peacefully, and I needed to prepare for my exam in two days. I went to my backpack to get the textbook I needed to study. It's a borrowed book, expensive and hard to find, and Jenna loves looking at its pictures. I had taken it away from her a couple of times because I didn't want a repeat of what happened last time."

"Okay, then what happened?" Sam asked.

"The book wasn't in my backpack, even though I was sure I put it in there this morning. My first instinct was that Jenna took it, but she denied it, so I searched everywhere I could have left it—no luck. I went back to Jenna's room, and she was sitting on the floor playing. When I asked her again, she denied it, but she had this evil grin on her face. Then I noticed her eyes flicker toward something under her bed, so I checked there. The book was shredded into a million pieces..." Lucille began sobbing.

Sam rubbed her back, but words failed her. Lucille's voice trembled with dread. "I got upset, and Jenna snatched the remnants of the book and bolted. I chased her to the stairs, but I tripped over something—maybe a string tied to the railing—and went crashing down. I slammed into the steps, my face and head throbbing with pain. Everything happened so fast, I might have blacked out for a bit. When I came to, I was on the floor, and Jenna was looming over me, a knife in her hand. Then she attacked me."

"With a knife?" Ben asked, entering the room.

"Yes," Lucille replied.

"Did she cut you?" Sam asked.

"No, I managed to catch her arm while she was trying to bring the knife down and took it away. She got so angry and tried to hit me, but she's just a kid and can't do much damage, although she's very strong for her age and quite unpredictable. That's why I called Ben and asked him to come home so I could leave."

"I understand," Sam said. "How did she get the knife back?"

"She didn't. I have it right here." Lucille reached under the bed and pulled out the knife. Sam recognized it—it had been missing for a while, and she had assumed it had been accidentally thrown away.

"You asked me to check if Jenna had a knife when we arrived," Sam said.

"Did I? I don't remember."

"You must think she might have another one. You're in shock right now," Ben interjected.

"We're so sorry for what happened, Lucille. You mentioned you might have been out for a while; we need to take you to the hospital," Sam said.

"My arm mostly took the hit, but I'm just exhausted and really need to go home to prepare for the test," Lucille replied.

"But you don't have a book," Sam pointed out.

"I'll figure out something. Can I take the next couple of days off?" Lucille asked.

"Sure, but you need to go to the hospital. You seem very tired. Better safe than sorry. Ben will take you," Sam said, and Ben agreed.

Sam couldn't bring herself to talk to Jenna about it. She didn't know how to approach the conversation. Instead, she went downstairs to cook, using it as a way to clear her mind and plan the best course of action—like preparing a perfect meal, she needed to choose the right elements and the right order.