Eloise

"Eloise? Darling? It's time for bed."

"But mommy Angelica, i can't go to sleep while they're talking to me!"

My daughter is not well.

I eyed her with concern after she uttered those words, turning her head so she could face me fully, her bright, apple green eyes boring into me. It was so, so hard to say no to her. Her headstrong, extremely independent personality was already tough enough to deal with in general, but her adorable face was even harder to defy. Eloise had soft ringlets of ginger hair that cascaded down her shoulders, fair, soft skin and a smattering of freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. The only thing that worried me was her imaginary friend.

They were simply called 'they', and eloise adored them. Yet 'they' scared me to pieces due to some conversations i had overheard between her and them. Snippets of eloise talking back, saying things like "I can't hurt mommy Veronique. She wouldn't like that too much." and "yes i know where the scissors are. I use them for crafts.. Why?" yet the one that scared me the most was one i heard after waking up in the ungodly hours of the night, unaware what had woken me up at the time. Eloise's room is next to mine and my girlfriends, and through the fairly thin walls i heard eloise speak.

"Why would i use something so sharp? That sounds like it would hurt." i don't know how many times i've played that over in my mind, pushing my already fairly high anxiety mind to its limits. My girlfriend, Veronique, insists i was dreaming and nobody spoke, but what else could she have been saying? She disbelieves the next part even more.

I heard a laugh in reply to my child's statement. No, not a giggle from eloise. Something else. Something dark, garbled and demonic. It sounded smothered.

I've prayed every night since then, too high-strung to even sleep a full night anymore. I keep listening for anything else, and i've even gone as far as taking Eloise to a therapist, and earning shrugs and pitied looks in return. I used to think so highly of doctors and therapists as i saw those regularly for general anxiety and a smattering of other things. But not being able to help a child? That is mad.

"Eloise, please..." i tried once more, nearly begging the little girl at this point. She had turned around to talk to them, but was silent.

"...Do I have to do that?" my daughter whined, not turning to face me yet.

"Yes, you do." i stooped down to her level, keeping my gaze trained on the back of her head and brushing a strand of auburn hair behind my ear while i awaited a response. She stood up without facing me still, and i rose as well.

"If you say so, mommy Angelica!" Eloise spun around suddenly to face me. A large, nearly grotesque looking grin on her face. I stook her hand and led her to her small bedroom, tucking her in tightly in the silky feeling sheets. I kissed her on the forehead and retreated out of the room, softly shutting the creaky door behind me and exhaling deeply. Please let there be no voices tonight.

"Are you still hung up on that?" Veronique sighed heavily as i slunk into bed beside her, looking up from her phone and raising an eyebrow in my direction. I think she thinks I'm crazy for believing all this shit about an imaginary friend being evil. I just want my daughter to be safe. Is it too much to ask for my family to be safe? "Angelica?" she spoke again, placing her phone down and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"What?" i could hear the apprehension and concern in her voice when she'd said my name.

"Have you," she paused to take a breath in, tugging on a strand of her thick, curly hair as she continued the sentence, "ever considered going back into therapy? I know this whole Eloise situation has been hard on you-"