Chapter 8: Wednesday Evening November 24th

I lay on my back and stared up into the darkness.

My busy brain kept spinning and spinning. There was no way I was getting to sleep any time soon with so many thoughts whirling around inside my head.

There was some animal moving around in the bushes outside my window. I listened to the quiet rustling as it pushed its way through. It wasn’t unusual to hear animals moving around in the dark. It could be a cat or a dog or a bird or a squirrel or any number of things.

Then the window rattled.

My eyes popped wide-open and I froze.

No animal had ever tried to open my window before.

I held my body completely rigid. I wasn’t even breathing. Every single part of me was focused on listening to the sounds at my window.

The window rattled again.

I wanted to scream. I clenched my jaw shut and fought against the temptation.

It couldn’t be any of my friends. None of them were the sort to come lurking around my house in the middle of the night. None of them were the sort to do this sort of thing as a prank. If there was some reason why they wanted to come around, they would’ve rung the doorbell. If it was someone I knew, and for some reason they wanted to sneak in to see me, they would’ve called out by now – or knocked on the window.

The curtains were drawn. Whoever it was couldn’t see in. Had I locked the window? I couldn’t remember. Surely I must have. It’s one of Dad’s rules. Every night, every door and window has to be locked. I decided I must have locked it because the window would have been open by now if it weren’t.

I heard a low sound. I think it was a man’s voice, muttering something. Inside my head, I whimpered in fear. My jaw was clenched shut to make sure that not even a squeak escaped my lips.

The bushes stirred again. I heard the distinct crunch of a footstep in the scattering of leaves under the bushes. Then another step and a different bush moved as whoever it was made their way along the side of the house – away from my room and towards Tara’s.

A gasping, wheezing sound broke the silence. It took me ages to figure out what it was. The sound was me trying to breathe against the rigidly locked muscles of my throat. I don’t think I’d actually taken a breath since the first rattle on my window. I forced myself to relax my throat and tried to silently gulp in air.

I slid out of bed and crept towards my door. A lifetime of training made me pick up my bathrobe and wrap it around me as I walked past it. I eased my door open as quietly as I could and then I bolted down the hallway to The Parents’ room.

Inside their room, I hurried to Dad’s side of the bed. I grabbed Dad’s shoulder and shook it.

“Dad! Wake up!” I whispered. I shook his shoulder again.

Dad made a “Gah” sort of sound and launched himself about three feet into the air. He landed in a seated position on the bed with his arms out towards me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to fend me off or if he was getting ready to attack whoever it was that had woken him.

“Dad! It’s me!” I hissed.

“Tara? Bec? What is it? What’s the matter?”

“There’s someone outside the house. He tried to open my window. Now he’s headed towards Tara’s window.”

Dad bounded out of bed in a single leap.

“Wake your mother,” Dad muttered. “Stay with her. Meet us in the kitchen.”

Dad picked up a bathrobe as he ran past it. He flicked on the light as he ran out the door.

Mum groaned and complained about the light – still half asleep. I jumped up onto the bed and shook her.

“Mum! Get up! Quick!”

Mum sat up suddenly.

“What? Is it Angie?”

I explained what was going on. Seconds later we were hurrying to the kitchen – Mum tying on a robe as we ran.

By the time we made it to the kitchen, it was clear Dad had been turning on lights as he ran through the house. Every single light in the house was blazing.

We arrived in the kitchen to find Tara already leaning against the fridge as she tried to wake up. The fridge was complaining about being used as a leaning post, in addition to all its other duties.

Tara wanted to know what was going on. Apparently Dad had literally dragged her out of bed and hauled her into the kitchen. Bringing Tara up to date took exactly two sentences. In even less time than that, Dad returned to the kitchen carrying a still-sleeping Angie in his arms. Dad had picked her up out of the bed, comforter and all. It trailed after him now like the train on a wedding gown. Tara hurried to pick up the end of the comforter and wrap it securely around Angie.

Dad looked at me.

“Are you sure there was someone there? Could this be your brain playing tricks on you?”

Everyone looked at me.

“I know you sometimes find it hard to tell the difference,” he continued.

For the first time, I stopped and thought about it. Dad was right. It was probably my stupid brain. Doubts started to swamp me. I had been all stressed about whatever went on back in England. I was getting more and more convinced that it involved a fair amount of danger for us – danger that could pursue us here. No wonder I was starting to hear things.

I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t know what to do.

Tara spoke up. “If Bec’s imagining things and we take precautions, what’s the worst that can happen? If we assume that it’s Bec being weird and we all relax, that’s when everything goes really bad.”

Tara’s simple logic was strangely reassuring. It didn’t chase away my doubts – I still worried that I was scaring everyone over something that was all in my head. But she made me feel better about having woken everyone up.

“I’m convinced,” said Dad.

Dad thrust Angie into Tara’s arms.

“All of you – go to the bathroom now. Lock yourselves in. Go!”

Mum was looking strangely at Dad. “Do you think this is... ?”

“It can’t be. I don’t see how it’s possible. But let’s not take any chances. Go!”

Dad pointed towards the bathroom.

Mum herded Tara in that direction and reached out one hand for me. I moved to go with them, but suddenly stopped. The brainy part of me had an idea and I liked it a lot so I went with her plan.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” I called out.

I sprinted back towards The Parents’ room. I could hear Dad muttering a curse and running after me. I ran straight across the room and grabbed the shoe box from the floor of Dad’s closet. I heaved it out of its place, spun around and placed it on the bed.

“What are you doing? Get back to...” Dad had entered the room. He stopped talking as soon as he saw the box.

I wrenched open the drawer of Dad’s bedside table and plucked the key from its secret location.

“How did you... ? Stop! Leave it alone,” said Dad.

I knocked the cardboard lid out of the way, revealing the metal box concealed inside. A single twist of the key and the metal box popped open. Using both hands, I reached in and dumped all the documents out onto the bed.

The gun was now exposed. It lay there in the box with those two slidey bullet things next to it.

Dad was looking between the gun and me. I pointed at the gun.

“Take it, Dad.” Dad didn’t move, so I made my voice louder.

“Why do you have the gun? It’s to protect us with, right? This is why you got it in the first place, isn’t it? So pick up the gun. Protect us.”

Dad was still hesitating. I changed the tone of my voice. I stood up straight and stared at Dad. Right now I needed to be more like Mum and less like little scaredypants Bec. I made myself become strong, powerful, commanding, and most of all – dangerous.

“Dad, either you pick up the gun or I will.”

I reached for the gun.

Inside my skull, scaredypants Bec whimpered in fear. I ignored her and focused on the gun. It lay there, gleaming in the light – calling to me.

The world went still. Even the walls held their breath. My hands remembered the weight of it – the solid feel of it. My hands reached – yearning to feel that weight again. Picking up that gun would complete me – make me whole. I reached...

Dad got there first and knocked my hands away. He scooped up the gun in one hand and a bullet thing in the other. In a single practised move, he slid the two parts together and snapped the bullet thing into place. The gun, which had seemed enormous in my hands, fitted Dad’s hand perfectly. With his other hand, he did a smooth sliding move over the top part of the gun that made something go “shnick, clack” inside the gun. Then his thumb pushed the safety lever thing and it snapped into its other position – its not-safe position.

I stood there, panting – trying to get used to the idea that I wasn’t holding the gun. I was disappointed. I had really wanted to pick up that gun. Scaredypants Bec was relieved. Scaredypants Bec was also somehow triumphant – as if she’d pulled off a successful move. I had no idea what that was about.

With the loaded gun pointed at the ceiling, Dad glared at me.

“Bathroom! Now! Go!”

I scooped the spare bullet slidey-thing out of the box and dropped it into the pocket of Dad’s robe.

“You might need this. I’m going now.”

I started to run, but Dad grabbed me and held me behind him. He walked – fast – down the hallway with the gun pointed up. His head moved from side to side as he tried to look in every direction at once. I followed faithfully in his footsteps.

When we got to the kitchen, I saw the knife block sitting there with all the knife handles pointing up. I called “wait” and hurried over to it. I pulled out one of the longer knives, one with an eight inch blade. Then I pulled out a second one.

I showed them to Dad as we hurried down the hallway to the bathroom.

“When you want us to come out of the bathroom, call before you open the door. Anyone else who comes through that door is going to get a nasty surprise.”

I said that with a kind of grim determination. Dad must have heard it in my voice because he didn’t complain. He looked at my face and nodded.

I knocked on the bathroom door and called out to Mum. She opened the door straight away and pulled me inside.

I heard Dad say, “I’m calling the police.” Then Mum shut and locked the door. Tara had laid Angie down in the bath on a bed of towels. Now Tara was crouched in the bath over the top of her, arranging the comforter to keep Angie warm. Angie was fussing and whimpering at the disturbance but seemed to be mostly still out of it.

I handed one of the knives to Mum. She took it from me and her face went from dangerous to completely scary. I was kind of glad she was on my side.

“Get in the bath with your sister and crouch down,” she hissed at me through clenched teeth. Then she turned and faced the door, holding the knife ready to slice and dice anyone who came through it.

I looked at the knife in my hand. I wasn’t going to be cowering in any bath. I placed myself behind Mum and to the side.

“I’ll be right here,” I whispered to Mum. She ignored me and continued to stare at the door.

I figured that if I could look even half as dangerous as Mum did right now, then I would do more good standing up and supporting Mum.

“Where’s my knife?” whispered Tara. I glanced over my shoulder at her.

“You keep Angie quiet and comfortable,” I said.

Something that Tara saw made her sink down into the bath without complaining any further.

“Besides,” I said to myself as much as to Tara. “If they get past Dad and then Mum and then me, a knife won’t do you much good, because they’d have to be using guns.”

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and realized I didn’t need to do anything more to look dangerous.

I was already there.

My reflection smiled a little half-smile at me that threatened mayhem. Little scaredypants Bec might have wanted to hide away but that was the old Bec. That was all in the past. I didn’t need her anymore. I shoved the scaredypants to the back of my skull where she wouldn’t get in the way.

I stood there, strong and dangerous and ready, with the knife held firmly in my hand. I stared at the door, stared hard enough to burn a hole in it, almost willing someone to come through it and get what was coming to him.

And I waited ... and I waited.

In the back of my head, scaredypants Bec was trying to picture what would happen when the intruder came through that door. She was finding it hard to think clearly. I don’t know why. I wasn’t paying much attention. I was watching the door.

She was convinced that whoever it was would have a gun. She ran little plays inside my skull with different mini-Becs playing the different people – Mum, me, Tara, the gunman. It was annoying. I wanted to be perfectly ready to jump on the intruder. She kept on distracting me with all this pointless thinking.

Then I noticed that the thinking did have a point. In every little play that she acted out, the door burst open and either Mum or me ended up being shot before we could get close enough to use our knives. I moved the little version of me up to beside Mum and ran the play again but that made things worse – together we made one big target that was obvious and easy to shoot at. We couldn’t stand closer because the door swinging open would whack us. We couldn’t stand right against the door because then he could shoot through the door and be sure of hitting us.

Now I paid more attention to thinking about what was going to happen. I watched more carefully as scaredypants Bec ran through different plays in my head. Each time I started us in different places. I tried with one intruder and then with two. It took quite a few goes, but eventually I worked out a plan that had a chance of working. The whole thing took way longer to describe than to actually do. The thinking part went really quickly.

I pushed Mum gently and then again more firmly.

“It’s no good standing here,” I whispered. “I’ve got a better idea.”

I steered Mum over into the corner and got her to put her back flat against the wall. She was right next to where the door would swing if it got shoved open. She was in among the hanging towels. Hopefully, the man wouldn’t see her straight away. Hopefully, in his first glance into the room, he would mistake her for another hanging towel. I grabbed the two spare bathrobes off the hooks on the back of the door and went to Tara.

“Lie flat and cuddle Angie. Stay right down.”

She did what I told her without even hesitating. Maybe she was worried that I might use the knife on her – I don’t know. I draped one of the bathrobes over the top of my two sisters. I don’t know if that hid them any better but lying flat meant Tara couldn’t be seen from the doorway. That was a good thing. I guess that, if nothing else, the extra robe would help keep Tara warm.

I hung the second robe off the shower-rose inside the shower. I fluffed it out a bit and stepped back. It could be seen through the frosting on the shower door, hovering like a ghost. It looked very much like there was a person hiding in there. That was my plan, anyway. I hoped the intruder would see that first and shoot towards the shower. That would give Mum and me the chance to get him.

Finally, I crouched down and crawled under the counter next to the basin. Now I was hidden from anyone coming through the door. That made scaredypants Bec happy. It also put his legs within two feet of me. A quick lunge and my knife would go straight into him. That made me happy.

I coiled myself up like a spring and waited – ready to pounce.

Having learnt the value of acting things out in my head, I let a miniature version of me loose inside my skull to act out the exact moves I would do when someone came through the door – push forward with my legs, take my weight on my left hand, lunge forward and then up with my right hand, pull back and lunge again. I even acted it out for real a couple of times – except I did it kind of slower.

I waited. I stared at the door and waited. It was like I was in a dark tunnel – looking out of the end at a spot of light. The door in front of me became that spot of light – it was the only thing I could see. I waited – poised, ready to pounce.

I waited, and I waited.

The muscles in my hand started to cramp from gripping the knife for so long. The muscles in my legs started to cramp from being tensed up for so long. The cramps started as a low buzzing in my hand and my legs that was easy to ignore. Then they got worse and worse until my muscles were burning – screaming at me for relief. That was harder to ignore. I tried to ignore it anyway.

Despite all my supposed readiness, a bang on the door startled me. Despite my screaming muscles, I gathered myself for the coming fight. I felt every fibre of my body tense up and focus on the spot I was about to attack, the move I was about to make.

This was it!!

Then my brain registered that it was more of a knock than a bang. And the voice I was hearing was Dad calling quietly through the door to us.

“The police are on their way. I’ve checked the whole house. All the windows and doors are still locked. There’s nobody inside the house except us. I think we’re okay but stay in there until the police arrive.”

I felt the tension drain out of my body. The breath I’d been holding sighed out past my lips. I felt tremors race through me as my brain slowly got used to the idea that I could relax – at least a bit. Slowly I twisted around until I was sitting on the floor underneath the counter. That meant that I could stretch my legs out across the tiles. I put the knife down on the floor next to me and massaged some life back into my thigh muscles.

With the threat of danger mostly gone, the dangerous part of me sulked and withdrew into a dark corner in the back of my head. That withdrawal left a strange emptiness inside me. I’d been entirely ready for the fight of my life and now there was nothing. Slowly, feebly, my normal thoughts started up again. But they rattled around in that emptiness and felt lost and out of place.

It had been really weird how that dangerous part of me had completely taken over. It had been hard for the rest of me to think clearly. I don’t know why it happened like that. Usually I can put a bit of me in charge and the rest can sit in the back of my brain and watch what happens and think about things. Dangerous Bec had pretty much taken over my whole brain and squeezed the rest of me into a tiny little space without any room to do much more than worry about how scary it all was.

I crawled out from under the counter and gingerly stood up. My leg muscles were still twitching from holding still for so long. I scooped up the knife from where it lay on the floor and set it on the counter near the door. Mum was still leaning against the wall among the hanging towels, but she had kind of collapsed a bit. The hand holding the knife was now down by her side and the knife hung loosely from her fingers. Mum’s eyes were closed and she was drawing in uneven breaths.

I walked over to the bath and sat on the edge. Tara looked up at me with scared eyes and a white face. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Angie.

“Did you hear what Dad said?” I whispered.

Her head gave the tiniest little shake.

“He said there was nobody inside the house. He’s checked all the doors and windows. Nobody came in. The police are on their way. They’ll be here soon. We’re to stay in here until the police come, just in case.”

Tears spilled from Tara’s eyes. She turned her head and buried her face in the layer of towels that she and Angie were lying on. I reached down and stroked Tara on the back of her head and her shoulders. Angie was lying still and breathing regularly – she seemed to be fast asleep, completely unaware of what was going on around her.

Tara’s crying had turned into big heaving sobs. I guess she must have been really scared – having to lie there like that. I made soothing noises and kept stroking her hair and her back. Mum was suddenly beside me. I guess Tara’s sobbing had summoned her. Mum peeled Tara’s arms away from around Angie and helped her to stand and climb out of the bath. Then Tara was wrapped in Mum’s arms and the two of them sank into a sitting position on the bathroom rug.

I looked at the door and decided that maybe we’d relaxed too much – given that the police hadn’t arrived yet. There were now two knives sitting on the counter next to the basin so I picked one of them back up and took Mum’s position in among the towels. I had my back against the wall and I was ready if I needed to be but I was kind of relaxed rather than all tensed up. I was hoping like mad that all the trouble was over because I really didn’t want to hurt anyone with a knife. I would if I had to, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. I was also hoping like mad that nothing bad happened because the other option was too scary for words.