Secrets Never Known

AnnaBelle sat her desk tapping her pencil, blinding nerves building up in both her stomach and mind. It was not the familiar four note beat of her dreams that she performed, but a constant /tap, tap, tap/ that portrayed her troubled thoughts to anyone watching her. He had spoken a name. Her Madman had spoken someone's name.

While a part of her was stupidly jealous that it had not been her own name to fall mockingly from his lips, another part of her, the childish, sulking part, was attempting to piece together the idea that he dreams were a safe haven. Yes, other names had often been dropped while she had entered sleep, but they were always general titles that were given to groups of people or races of alien beings. This, however, was different. It was an odd name, maybe not even a real name, but it was a name and she got the nagging feeling that it was one that put her Madman in states of great anger and nervousness. And that set her off.

As AnnaBelle's fingers moved that pencil in that tapping rhythm, her movements slowly melting into the oh-so familiar drum beat, a pair of brown eyes, usually shining with reckless mirth, looked up from their paperwork to land on the young girl. A cloud of worry was darkening his eyes today as direct result of last night.

Was I too reckless? he thought with a bite of regret. Sure, he had gained a certain information of that man's determination, but something bad had happened along the way. Obviously, his actions had affected this girl in some way.

Her pencil stopped its tapping and he watched her as she leaned over in her desk to unzip her backpack. The black notebook was sat on her desk, but she did nothing with it. She stared at its worn cover and the Doctor wondered what exactly he had done.

Anna opened the notebook to the pages she'd written on that morning. Her light eyes scanned the writing, but she barely saw it; only picking out a few specific words. Two-and-a-half pages had been filled. The handwriting was hardly legible, small and sloppy. She hadn't been concerned so much with remembering the whole dream to write it down as she had with remembering the look in his eyes. She turned another page and found what she'd been looking for. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked down at the drawing. It was flawless. She'd worked for two hours to make it so. His lips were curled back in a fierce snarl, revealing his teeth. His eyes were dark, enraged; almost deranged. But the determination was ever present.

"He looks angry." Mr. Smith's voice was soft, but AnnaBelle jumped nonetheless.

She slammed the book shut, eyes flashing to his in a moment of intense fear. Her heart pounded in her chest. The students around them looked at her, confusion rolling off of them in great heaps. She looked at them each in turn, then returned her gaze to the teacher's. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly. "He was," she whispered, then looked back down at the book, tapping her fingers in that never-ending four beat way she'd known since childhood.

--

AnnaBelle threw her bag onto the floor of her bedroom, for once not caring if her notebook got bent or smashed against her school books. She kicked the random articles of clothing and stuffed animals that were on the carpet in front of her out of the way. A fury had been instilled in her the second she'd walked into the house.

"School gets over at 3:30," her mother said, not looking up from the book she was reading.

"I had no idea" was Anna's sarcastic reply.

The book was thrown on to the couch cushion next to her mother. "Really, AnnaBelle? Because it only takes 15 minutes to walk here from your school and it's almost dinner time."

"Why does it matter to you what I do or where I go after school as long as I'm home by the time we eat so we can all be a big happy family? You've never mentioned it before."

"AnnaBelle Elizabeth Webber, don't you dare talk to me like that." Her mother stood up from the couch.

Anna took a defensive stance, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you going to do? Ground me? From what?"

A small smile fell onto Mrs. Webber's face. "Where's your notebook, AnnaBelle?"

"You wouldn't," AnnaBelle growled, stepping back. Her hand wound around her back to grab hold of her backpack where she knew the notebook was.

"Get home on time from now on and I won't."

AnnaBelle spun away from her mom, smiling to herself when she heard the shatter of the vase on the end table beside where her mother stood, but it was off of her face and replaced by a grimace the moment she stepped into her bedroom.

Anna would never allow her mother to take her notebook from her. She couldn't. What would she do with herself then? What if she got it taken away and she couldn't remember? The Madman was as much, if not more, a part of her life than her parents and little brothers. She knew she'd be able to live without them, so what would happen if he was ripped from her?

She looked at herself in the mirror on her vanity, not remembering walking over to it. Her hands clutched the sides of the table so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. For a moment she hardly recognized herself. She'd never seen so much anger, hate, and insanity in her own face before. It was a look she'd only ever seen her Madman have, and she wondered to herself if he was rubbing off on her in a not-so-good way. It was just a passing thought, though, and before she knew it, her arm had lashed out and the make up and perfume bottles that littered her vanity had been thrown to the floor; wiped away with a single sweep of her forearm.

She lifted her gaze once again and stared into her eyes. A lone tear ran its way down AnnaBelle's cheek. So this is what he feels like, she thought to herself.

Anna let go of the table and walked over to her bed, where she laid down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. More tears came, streaming down her cheeks and falling into her hair. She wiped them with the back of her hand but they kept coming. She closed her eyes for a second and saw her Madman's face, the face from the previous night, and heard his voice; terrified, enraged. He had been absolutely furious.

"No one can keep me from her. Not even you, Doctor."

The words rang in her head over and over, fast and loud; more incessant than the four beat tapping her man was always doing. She covered her ears, trying to get the ferocity to go away, but it didn't. She wished she knew who this "Doctor" character was. She wanted to find him and ask him why her Madman hated him so, why he scared him. She didn't know him, didn't understand how anyone could instill such emotion, horrible emotion, in her Madman.

AnnaBelle was suddenly terrified that the Doctor would get to her before the Madman. What was it about him that made the Madman so nervous? Why was he trying to keep her away from him? Whatever it was, Anna didn't want to find out. She didn't care. She'd rather be with her Madman than anyone else in the universe. She knew that if she ever found this Doctor, she didn't know what she would do to him for whatever it was he was doing to her man. What she wanted most was to never see her man look the way he had the night before ever again. She would do anything to be sure it didn't happen.