Cody McFadyen - The Face of Death

She'd wonder, years later, if Theresa really had believed her. She'd wonder and shrug it off. The truth was unimportant. Theresa had given her a feeling of safety and hope when she needed it most. Sarah loved her for it forever.

Rebecca had knocked on their door just before ten o'clock.

"Time for bed," she'd said.

Now they lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. Sarah was allowing herself to feel some relief. Things had been bad. So bad. And most things still were. She knew that this wasn't a good place to stay. She didn't know what her future held. But she wasn't alone anymore, and that, well, that was everything right now.

"Theresa?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're my foster-sister."

A pause.

"Me too, Sarah. Now go to sleep."

Sarah was sleeping her first dreamless sleep in many days when the sounds woke her up.

A man was there, covered in shadows, crouched over Theresa's bed. The Stranger!

She began to whimper.

The sounds stopped. A thick stillness hovered in the air.

"Who's that? Sarah? You awake?"

She realized the voice belonged to Dennis. Terror became puzzlement, followed by a creeping unease. Why is he here?

"Answer me, girl," he hissed. "You awake?"

His voice sounded so mean . She whimpered again and nodded. He can't see you, silly!

"Y-yes," she stammered.

Silence. She could hear Dennis breathing.

"Go back to sleep. Or keep quiet. Whichever."

"It's okay, Sarah," Theresa said, her voice faint in the darkness.

"Just close your eyes and cover your ears."

Sarah closed her eyes and pulled the covers up over her head, trembling. She kept her ears uncovered, listening hard.

"Go on, put it in your mouth," she heard Dennis whisper.

"I--I don't want to. Please, Dennis, just leave me alone." Theresa's voice was filled with misery.

A quick sound, followed by a gasp from Theresa that made Sarah shiver.

"Put it in your mouth, or I'll put it somewhere else. Somewhere that'll hurt. You understand?"

The silence that followed seemed unending. Then, wet noises.

"That's it. Good girl." Sarah didn't know what his "good girl"

really meant, but she knew it was something bad.

(Very bad)

That was what she felt in this room right now, the presence of something very, very bad . Something ugly. Something that made her feel dirty and ashamed without knowing why.

The noises changed, got faster, and then they stopped and Dennis groaned, a heavy, horrible groan that made Sarah tremble. Another long silence. The sounds of motion, moving sheets. The floor creaked. Footsteps. She heard them coming near her bed. (Monsters)

They stopped and she knew Dennis was there. Standing over her. She tried not to move, not to breathe. Tried to

Be nothing

She could smell him. Smoke and alcohol, mixed with a musky sweat, all of which made her want to scream and gag at the same time.

"You're pretty, Sarah," he whispered. "You're going to grow up to be a nice-looking young lady. Maybe I'll come pay you a visit in a couple of years."

(Be nothing Be nothing Be nothing)

Sarah was so terrified that she began to get nauseous. She felt him move away. Heard his footsteps padding toward the door and out the room.

They were alone now. Sarah could hear her own heartbeat, fast like a hummingbird, loud like a drum.

This died down enough for her to become aware of Theresa crying. It was a faint, deep sound.

Talk to her, dummy.

I'm scared. I don't want to come out from under the covers. Please don't make me, I'm only six, I don't want to do this anymore no more--

Shut up! She's your SISTER, you big fraidy-cat!

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut tight one last time before opening them. She took a deep breath and mustered all the courage her child heart could deliver. She pulled down the covers.

"Theresa?" she whispered. "Are you okay?"

Sniffling sounds.

"I'm fine, Sarah. Go to sleep."

She didn't sound fine, not at all.

"Do you want me to come hug you and sleep with you?"

A pause.

"Don't come over here. Not in . . . this bed. I'll come there."

Sarah watched Theresa's shadow rise and move toward her. The bedsprings squeaked as the older girl climbed into bed with her. Sarah reached out with her hands. They met Theresa's shoulders and she realized that the older girl was sobbing, face pressed against the pillow to mask the sound.

Sarah pulled on Theresa's shoulders with her small hands, urging the older girl toward her.

"Shhh . . . it's okay, Theresa. It's okay."

Theresa came into the small girl's arms without resistance. Her head found Sarah's chest and she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Sarah hugged Theresa's neck and petted her hair and cried a little herself.

What happened? A few hours ago we were playing Go Fish and felt happy, then Dennis comes and does these bad bad bad bad bad things.

A new fear thrilled through Sarah.

Maybe this is how everything's going to be now!

She set her mouth and shook her head.

No. God wouldn't let life be like that.

She thought these things as Theresa wept. The sobs turned into quieter tears, which turned into sniffles, which turned into nothing. Theresa kept her head on Sarah's chest. Sarah kept stroking her hair. Mommy used to do that for her when she was upset, and it always helped.

Maybe all mommies do that. Maybe Theresa's mommy did it too.

"Men are bad, Sarah," Theresa whispered, breaking the silence.

"My daddy wasn't," Sarah replied, regretting the words as they came out of her mouth.

She was only six, but she knew that Theresa wasn't really talking about men like Sarah's daddy. She was talking about men like Dennis. Although he was the first such man Sarah had ever met, she knew that Theresa was one hundred percent right about him.

All Theresa said was "I know," and she didn't sound mad.

"Theresa?"

"Yeah?"

"What did he mean when he said he'd come visit me in a few years?"

Another long silence, this one filled with things Sarah couldn't identify at all.

"Don't you worry about that, little girl," Theresa said. The tenderness in her voice brought an unexpected prickle of tears to Sarah's eyes. The older girl's hand came up to her cheek and touched it, once.

"I won't let him get you. Not ever."

Sarah fell asleep believing this.

28

"WHAT COLOR, HONEY?"

It was Sunday and Sarah was with her mother in her studio. She liked to do this sometimes, just sit down and watch Mommy paint or sculpt, or whatever. Her mother looked most beautiful when she was being an artist.

This painting was a landscape. Mountains in the background, preceded by a large open meadow dotted with lushly leafed trees. The colors were vibrant and unreal: a purplish sky, butter-yellow grass, the sun an impossible orange. Sarah thought it was amazing. Her mother was asking her what color she thought the leaves on the trees should be.

Sarah frowned. She didn't have words to explain why she liked the painting. Mommy had told her in the past that that was okay, that what you felt was more important than what you thought. What she felt about this painting was "pretty" and "joyful."

"The real colors, Mommy. But shinier."

Sarah didn't have the vocabulary, but Linda knew her meaning was exact. Sarah was seeing something in her mind and trying to describe it. It was up to Linda to figure out what.

"Shinier . . . you mean brighter? Like a lightbulb gives more light or less light?"

Sarah nodded.

"Okay, honey."

Linda began mixing oranges and reds, bemused.

Maybe she's got some artist in her.

Sarah was saying that the leaves should be the correct colors of autumn leaves, but brighter, in fitting with the rest of the painting. She glanced at her daughter.