She Won’t Stop Crying
Six seconds later, the crying stopped. And in its place came the silence, a cavernous absence of sound that grew more disconcerting with every minute. Louisa blinked, she turned her head and her tummy shrank and grew with oxygen, but there was no sound of breathing from her mouth, no click of the throat from swallowing. No smile escaped her lips, no matter how many times her father played peekaboo with her. Her parents didn't know who to call or what to say - that their baby seemed somehow less alive?
Throughout the pregnancy, Angela was always distraught over something, usually at night, and Nick was there to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay once the baby came. But tonight, as she gripped her pillow and burned a hole through the far wall with her gaze, Nick could tell she wasn't distraught. Just distant. None of his usual words worked on her. She got up to leave, his hand brushing against her silky nightgown in a futile attempt to keep her there. As she softly closed the door behind her, he sat up with frustration. And noticed Louisa's stuffed bunny rabbit sitting in the corner of the bedroom.
Angela walked down the stairs, heels scraping against the inlaid carpet and fingertips lightly grazing the banister. She stared straight ahead, never once looking at where her feet were going. Instead her eyes remained fixed on the stained glass window hanging above the front door, beaming in red moonlight that canvassed the whole foyer in crimson. It was the last image she was ever conscious for, as the tumble down the stairs made short work of her neck, leaving her body splayed across the cold tile with nothing but the blood moon to blanket her and her gnarled fingers. If anyone was there to witness it, they would have been astonished at how little noise she made.
Nick sat at the edge of the bed, holding the stuffed rabbit in his hands. It had a missing button eye, a floppy ear and a strand of red thread hanging from its nose. Vile hand-me-downs from Angela's parents, he thought to himself. As he stood up to go console her, he felt a blade slash his achilles tendons, like violin strings violently plucked. He collapsed to the floor, bellowing with pain, trying to clutch the backs of his ankles but finding it impossible to summon the strength. Blood pooled outward, soaking the bunny he dropped to its side.
Louisa crawled from under the bed, something she hadn't even been able to do before, with a speed and purpose that made it seem as though she was being puppeteered. Her fingers, which once gently grabbed his hands as he played with her, were now clenched around a whittling knife from his garage.
Six seconds later, the screaming stopped.
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