Status: Updates are sporadic and may occur at whim, but I do try to add chapters regularly.
Silent Nights
Pleas
I can tell Matt’s waiting for me to make a move. He shifts his weight, alternating between looking at me and watching the scene below. When the girl refuses to answer, Sara shoots us a look and motions for us to back off. I take a step back. The only thing I know about kids is to stay away when they’re crying, so I’m more than happy to back away.
Matt, however, pushes past me. I try to grab his arm, but he shrugs me off and starts down the stairs. The little girl startles and backs down the hallway. Sara shoots a glare at Matt that’s more exasperated than angry and launches into another string of reassurances and pleas. The girl’s attention jumps between Sara, Matt, and the hallway that leads back outside. Sara shifts to her right, effectively cutting off the girl’s access to the hallway, and the poor kid backs into the wall like a cornered animal.
When Matt reaches the last step, he kneels down opposite Sara. He starts talking to the girl in an even, low tone that doesn’t quite reach the top of the stairs. He gains the girl’s attention with whatever he’s saying, and she finally turns fully toward the stairs. Matt shifts slightly, and her left arm comes into the light for the first time. The sleeve of her purple, kitten-adorned sweater is covered in blood. Matt’s shoulders tense for a moment; he’s seen it as well. Sara says something then, to which Matt nods before he continues talking to the girl in that same calm voice.
When Matt reaches out for the little girl’s right hand, she lets him take it. Sara shoots a confused glance at me, but I can only shake my head. I’ve seen him bring our one cousin from full-on screaming meltdown to laughing in minutes, but it’s still amazing to see the effect he has on kids. It’s one of many things my brother handles with an unexpected ease I can’t imagine imitating.
As the girl’s tears finally cease, Matt gently tugs her hand a little and says something. When she finally nods, he carefully pulls her to him and picks her up, easily settling her weight on his left arm. He then wraps his other arm around her back cautiously and stands up. Looking about as awed by Matt as I am, Sara follows him wordlessly up the stairs. I take another step back when they reach the top, shining the light down the hall for them. The girl buries her face in Matt’s neck when they pass me. I stiffen, thinking the worst of her bloody arm. If Matt considers this too, he gives no indication. He just calls to Anna to turn the light back on and enters the room at the end of the hall.
“There’s a chance,” Sara says quietly, still standing on the last step, “that it’s not- not that.” I look down at her, but her face is at odds with what she’s saying. The muscles along her jaw flex as she stares at the bedroom door, still not taking that last step. The lantern clicks back on and after a brief pause Anna’s forced cheeriness follows. I look back at Sara. Her hand is wrapped around the hilt of her knife, the grip so tight her knuckles are white. When I pull my eyes back up to her face, I find her looking up at me. And I realize she’s pleading again, this time not with words but with what she’s refusing to say.
Matt, however, pushes past me. I try to grab his arm, but he shrugs me off and starts down the stairs. The little girl startles and backs down the hallway. Sara shoots a glare at Matt that’s more exasperated than angry and launches into another string of reassurances and pleas. The girl’s attention jumps between Sara, Matt, and the hallway that leads back outside. Sara shifts to her right, effectively cutting off the girl’s access to the hallway, and the poor kid backs into the wall like a cornered animal.
When Matt reaches the last step, he kneels down opposite Sara. He starts talking to the girl in an even, low tone that doesn’t quite reach the top of the stairs. He gains the girl’s attention with whatever he’s saying, and she finally turns fully toward the stairs. Matt shifts slightly, and her left arm comes into the light for the first time. The sleeve of her purple, kitten-adorned sweater is covered in blood. Matt’s shoulders tense for a moment; he’s seen it as well. Sara says something then, to which Matt nods before he continues talking to the girl in that same calm voice.
When Matt reaches out for the little girl’s right hand, she lets him take it. Sara shoots a confused glance at me, but I can only shake my head. I’ve seen him bring our one cousin from full-on screaming meltdown to laughing in minutes, but it’s still amazing to see the effect he has on kids. It’s one of many things my brother handles with an unexpected ease I can’t imagine imitating.
As the girl’s tears finally cease, Matt gently tugs her hand a little and says something. When she finally nods, he carefully pulls her to him and picks her up, easily settling her weight on his left arm. He then wraps his other arm around her back cautiously and stands up. Looking about as awed by Matt as I am, Sara follows him wordlessly up the stairs. I take another step back when they reach the top, shining the light down the hall for them. The girl buries her face in Matt’s neck when they pass me. I stiffen, thinking the worst of her bloody arm. If Matt considers this too, he gives no indication. He just calls to Anna to turn the light back on and enters the room at the end of the hall.
“There’s a chance,” Sara says quietly, still standing on the last step, “that it’s not- not that.” I look down at her, but her face is at odds with what she’s saying. The muscles along her jaw flex as she stares at the bedroom door, still not taking that last step. The lantern clicks back on and after a brief pause Anna’s forced cheeriness follows. I look back at Sara. Her hand is wrapped around the hilt of her knife, the grip so tight her knuckles are white. When I pull my eyes back up to her face, I find her looking up at me. And I realize she’s pleading again, this time not with words but with what she’s refusing to say.