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The ceramic carousel spun in her hand, triggering the sweet lullaby she'd grown so attached to: "Hush little baby, don't say a word." She set it delicately against the old wooden desk that once held her grandmothers school books, now cluttered with her favorite dolls and knick knacks. She was careful not to put the carousel down too hard so that it would break, for once the two parted, all hope for happiness would be lost. Looking carefully at the dolls, she ignored the cracks in their pale, china faces and pulled Beth from the neat arrangement. Beth had curly red locks that shrouded her bright, freckled cheeks and ocean blue eyes. If she were to ever have a daughter, she wanted her to look like Beth; subtle, cheerful, shy and innocent. She sat on her bed, the springs creaking even under her 70-pound frame. Beth's eyelids rolled over, mocking a sleeping child, but her other features remained as the girl held her in her arms, singing "Hush, little baby" with her musical carousel. She tried with all of her might to look past the crack running down the dolls' left cheek. Beth was beautiful, and she knew no one could take that from her.1

"Maggie!" Her fathers grizzly voice echoed between her ears and crushed her happiness in one bitter moment. "Where the fuck are you?" His southern accent was thick and slurred from cheap whiskey. Maggie sat perfectly still, clutching Beth to her chest. 'Maybe if I don't move, he won't see me. Maybe I could disappear,' she thought hopefully. She realized in the moments before her father busted through the door that she was facing the doorway and would be the first thing he saw. 'Blend', she thought, 'Stay still!' But she shuddered violently and let out a sharp gasp as he towered over her, still sitting on the bed. "You fuckin' answer me when I call you, you understand?" He bellowed.2

"Yes, sir," she managed to squeak out. He lunged towards her, one hand gripping her shoulder and the other ripping Beth from her grasp. Maggie heard Beth's beautiful face shatter against the wall and shrieked with grief. Her father stopped moving at the sound of her screaming, pausing to understand that she loved the doll and destroying the rest of them would teach her not to disobey him again. He released her and in one swift movement wiped all of the dolls off of the desk and began to crush them, their faces shattering underneath his size 12 Timberland boots. 3

What happened next was not exactly clear, but helped Maggie understand just how much could happen in one single moment. She watched her father's feet, each stomp destroying another piece of her treasure. As he lifted his boot above the carousel, Maggie dove to salvage her most prized possession. His boot came down and landed just below her left shoulder, snapping the bone and pinning her to the hardwood floor. Maggie didn't hear the sound of her arm breaking or her own scream, for they were swallowed by three deafening blasts. Her father fell back onto the bed, silently, with 3 small pools of blood forming a triangle on his torso. Maggie stood up very slowly, not looking in the doorway to see who the shots came from, but moving cautiously toward her father to confirm that he was really dead, and that this wasn't some kind of prank. At the sound of the .48 caliber pistol dropping to the floor, Maggie turned sharply to see who the killer/savior was, clutching her arm tightly.4

Her mother stood, shoulders shaking with sobs and blood running from her right eyebrow. Maggie and her mother had identical bruises on both of their wrists; her fathers hands brandished onto them. For several moments, they stood, their crying being the only sound in the room. Then Maggie wound up the little carousel, set it on the now empty desk and walked to her mother, wrapping her good arm around her waist. The hug broke her mother out of her daze and she scooped Maggie up in her arms, carrying her out to the '77 Chevy Blazer, once red, now peeling gray and rusty. The drive to the hospital was silent up until the moment they arrived at the parking lot. Her mother said forcefully while she covered her cuts and bruises with make up, "Let me do the talking baby." Maggie merely sat, trying hard not to cry. She wanted to be strong for her mother. With each others help, she thought, they could get through this.5

This was Maggie's 2nd broken bone, if you count the time she crushed her index finger in the car door back in '79. She winced and gasped sharply as the Nurse rolled up her sleeve (after 4 hours in the waiting room). The bone was severely swollen and a deep blue and purple bruise stretched around her bicep. The swelling was so bad that Maggie could've easily have fit 2 of her small arms inside.6

"When's her birthday?" The nurse asked, peeling the gloves off her hands. They snapped loudly as she pulled them off of her fingers. Maggie watched the nurses' movements very closely, the way her strands of orange/red hair strayed from under her nurses cap as she moved her head; her deep blue eyes casually scanning the paper work. She noticed that the nurses' name tag read 'Elizabeth' and smiled.7

"December 12, 1972." her mother said through the lump in her throat.8

"And how did this occur?" The nurse replied, quickly writing in information on the sheet of paper laying on the desk. After a long pause of silence, Maggie didn't understand why her mother only stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She started at nothing in particular, but avoided Elizabeth's penetrating gaze.9

"She--um," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, "She feel down the stairs." Maggie glared at her with disbelief. She had never known her mother to lie and had been raised to always tell the truth. Maggie began to say, 'No,' but stopped herself, remembering her mother telling her to keep quiet in the car. She dropped her head and closed her eyes tightly to try and think away the pain. For 30 seconds or so, she held her breath and shut her eyes while her mother and the nurse stood and sat in silence, respectively.10

The nurse sat in her little swivel chair, tapping her Bic pen against the wooden desk. Her eyes darted back and forth between Maggie and her mother, who stood, chewing her nails. Maggie began to breath and looked up at the nurse, whose gaze was now fixated on her mothers wrist, on the brown fingers bruised into the skin.  The nurse looked at Maggie's wrist and began to put the pieces together in her head. Elizabeth stopped tapping her pen and walked to Maggie's mother, resting a pale hand on her shoulder and whispering in her ear quietly enough so Maggie couldn't hear. As the nurse slipped out the door, Maggie's mother began to cry and pinched the bridge of her nose.11

Maggie sat silently, now ignoring her pain for it was overcome by anger. She knew she couldn't cry because once again, she must be strong for her mother so that when she leaned on her, she wouldn't fall over. Pain was now nothing to her; it didn't hurt her, it only held her back momentarily. While her mother cried, the nurse found doctors and social workers to examine everything, from her arm to her home; everything was tampered with and everything was changed.12

And this is where I step in. I watched from dark, foggy corners. No one saw or noticed me as I fed off of the weakness of Maggie's heart until the day came when I was strong enough to show myself. And this is the story of the fog finally lifting.13

I14

Maggie and her mother returned to the house with 2 police cars; one in front and one behind. In the car her mother played Jefferson Airplane on the 8 track in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. Occasionally she touched Maggie's good shoulder and asked how she was. Before she'd respond, I'd lean into her ear and whisper, "Silence." Maggie would then look out the window, confused, but obedient.15

The police officers pulled into the gravel driveway and signaled for Maggie and her mother to stay in the car while the 4 men discussed their plan, gripping their belts to look important. Maggie's mother sat silently with her hands folded. They shook slightly, and Maggie compared them to her own, still ones. I watched them avert their eyes for several moments before I spoke again.16

"See that tree?" I whispered, grazing her ear with my lips, "Go to it. Sit under it. I will be there and we will talk of the many years to come." She looked to the tree which stood 15 yards up the driveway and on the right side. She closed her eyes and swallowed, aroused by my seductive whisper.17

"But the police officers...they told me to stay here," she replied in her head. I watched them, 3 had begun to walk towards the house, carrying pistols for unnecessary protection while the other walked towards the car to tell them again they needed to stay there. Her mother had begun to roll the window down as the officer politely tipped his hat.18

"Go, now." I whispered, touching her shoulder gently. She obeyed, reaching across her lap with her left hand to open the door and jumping to the ground. We heard her mother call and get out of the car as well. They would leave her, I knew. The officer would touch her shoulder and say, 'It's fine, let her think for a little while.' I turned and watch him perform my predictions. Maggie felt me no longer by her side and turned around to find me. Everything was perfect; I could finally live my desires, and Maggie would always be there to take the fall. Sweet, sweet Maggie Chamberland, daughter of Elaine and the late Daniel. Oh yes, this was perfect.19