In the dark, Mary lay on her bed at the wooden mansion. She'd lived there for three years, but her time of rest was restricted to the basement, for reasons she could not concur.

Mentally deranged and unkempt she had lived with rodents and insects of varied kinds, while wrapped in torn curtains as she lay on the cold wooden floor.

Now, she had her head on a soft pillow and the stress in her limbs was drained away by quiet strings of sweat, on a comfortable bed, made with clean sheets. Instead of old curtains, the warmth of a large duvet fed her skin against the chills of that summer night.

Mary Angela had heard Richard’s voice a while ago and due to caution that rode within the red streams in her veins, she decided to keep still on her bed until no voice was heard in the house. Curiosity ate her up but she stayed on her bed.

The voices had begun to fade. She was sure a few hours had gone by and certainly everyone in the house must have fallen asleep.

In that moment of assurance, Mary sat up on her bed and peered into the darkness out the window. The curtains which covered the only window in the pretty room were parted and the silvery rays of a confident crescent moon gave a dim array of light in the bedroom.

Shadows of trees by their branches and moving shades of bats gliding through the night air, rode on the walls of the bedroom. Mary was used to the darkness. There was a time she enjoyed it, but it felt wrong. This time, it was different. The darkness did not carry the burden of loneliness as it used to. Perhaps that was due to the presence of a six year old roommate. Whatever it was, Mary was truly joyed by the existence of the Beckhams in her life.

While in admiration of a wonderful night, Mary heard muttering nearby.

As swift as a cat on a rat hunt, she sat straight and though the darkness toyed with her sight, she had her hearing at optimum. After full concentration, Mary discovered the source of the low gabbling.

She knew that voice too well. It was Melody’s.

Mary stood up and began to walk towards little Melody’s bed.

There was a time when one would have to tip-toe in the room, to avoid the creaks of the wooden floor. However, in respect for Melody’s interest, Richard covered the floor of the bedroom in an appealing fuchsia rug. It gave the pink wallpapers in the room a finishing touch. At that minute of cautious steps, Mary was grateful for the fancy rug.

Mary was just a step away from Melody, when she heard the child’s mumble clearly. The words brought tears to her eyes and pain to her heart.

“Poodles…she killed Poodles…why is she here…she’ll kill us too…I’m scared…she killed Poodles…Poodles.” Melody chanted as she turned and kicked on her bed.

Her voice got louder.

Mary had to stop her or the child’s voice would invite the family to the room.

Mary had to read through the contents of the red book. She had to look at it quickly. With every minute she wasted, Richard gained extra time to plot more lies and cover ups. She had to digest those brown pages. She had to know the truth of her past and she had to do it at that minute.

The only words that roamed her mind at that moment were the words “Right now!”

Mary took another step towards Melody’s bed until she was close enough to feel the child’s breath on her knees.

She placed her hands on Melody’s hands and squeezed as lightly as she could. Little Melody squeezed back and after a smile, she let go and went back to sleep.

Mary was not sure where she had learnt such, but the feel of Melody’s hand in hers, let a brief glitch cross her mind.

A pretty blonde woman with green eyes and a razor cut, held Mary’s hands while she lay on a bed. The warmth on Mary’s hands was followed by a smile on the woman’s face. After a second-long look at the woman’s smile, Mary found herself in the awe of reality.

As though commanded by someone, Mary ran to her bed and reached for the book with the red leather cover.

She was about to turn on the flashlight found on a lampstand next to her bed, when she heard the door knob turn.

Mary placed the huge book under her pillow, lay on her bed and spread the duvet over herself from head to toe.

In an instant less than a count down from four, Mary played dead. She had gained experience from her years in the forest surrounded wild life. The only difference between then and now was that she was free to breathe as loudly as she wanted in the present.

Mary swallowed and kept her fingers crossed under the duvet. She hoped the one who walked into the room was not Richard.
Footsteps approached Mary’s bed.

The bold footsteps were made a tone away from tranquil, due to the rugged floor.

This time, Mary did not feel grateful for the rug because she could not tell where the footsteps were headed, though it seemed they aimed for her bed. She could feel it.

The footsteps moved again and then paused.

“Maybe it’s Alice…It’s possible she heard Melody’s voice earlier…No…No…Alice doesn’t walk like that…those are the footsteps of a man…George?...Todd?...” Mary’s mute words drowned in a river of thoughts. Troubling thoughts.

Less than a second after the unpredicted halt of the footsteps, Mary felt the side of her bed sink in. Someone sat next to her.

Sweat in volumes larger than drops poured out every pore on her skin. Her teeth shivered and her bones quivered in fear.
She felt a huge lump clog up her throat. She wanted to scream but as though oppressed by an invisible force, her limbs were numb while she suffered the suffocation of anxiety. Mary was frightened.

The weight on her bed shifted and after a while, Mary suddenly felt fingers run through her hair and pull down the duvet.

She did her best to keep her eyelids steady but they blinked quicker than feet on a tap dance. The only confidence Mary had at that instant was the darkness that prevented the unknown being from catching a glimpse of the fear made obvious on her face.

Thick palms brushed Mary’s cheeks. Her heart felt gripped by death. She was almost brought to tears. Her pyjamas pants were a tad soaked by urine produced in drops.
In the verge of giving up, Mary heard a familiar voice.

“Mary?” The voice called sweetly.

She knew that voice too well.

Annoyance circled her heart and at that moment the words her thoughts uttered were;

“What the hell is wrong with you Todd?”

She let out a deep breath in unnoticeable paces, while a smile grew on her lips involuntarily. She could not stay mad at her visitor that night. How could she? He was Todd.

“Mary? I don’t know if you can hear me. Well I hope you can’t because you might not like what I’m about to say.” Todd said in gentle whispers.

Mary’s endured her eyes being closed but channelled every focus of her being to her sense of hearing.

Todd’s voice was enough to make her night better.

Maybe it was just infatuation. Maybe it was a special attraction that existed between fated couples. Maybe he was her destined soul mate. Whatever it was, it made Mary’s heart flutter at Todd’s voice and her soul declared total trust in him. Every word he would utter at that moment was deemed important by Mary. So, she listened.

“Mary I’m truly sorry but I…I don’t think I can do this anymore…You know…the whole investigating my brother…it…it doesn’t make any sense. I’ve lived with Richard for over twenty years… if you add all the summer breaks in college and grad school…I just can’t paint him in the picture you keep bringing up from tales of your dreams…I…” Todd paused, took in a deep breath and continued.

Mary’s heart was trapped for a minute in depression. All strength left her. Tears had begun to gather at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry but I really can’t do this…It’s hard to suspect my brother for a crime I know he can’t commit…I’m a lawyer for crying out loud and to be honest the only suspicions we’ve gotten so far are stories from your so called ‘glitches’ and dreams….I mean you don’t even have a good memory of your past…You don’t know who the fuck you are beside your name, you don’t know where you came from, you don’t know anything  about your family…

And for the sake of stupid restless hormones, I’m supposed to believe you? It makes no sense Mary. This whole situation is crazy. I’d like to go back to my normal life…I honestly can’t trust the words of some crazy girl over the words of my very sane brother. I’m out. I know you’re asleep and you can’t hear me, but starting tomorrow, I might act differently towards George and you. I will be mean, uncaring…Basically I’d be a dude who doesn’t give fuck about you two…I’ll be a jerk…You might hate me for that and honestly I hope you do. It’ll make it easier to stop taking sides with you. I really liked you. I can’t say it’s love. No. I know it isn’t love, because George is right. A guy like me could never truly love a girl like you. The attraction was fun while it lasted. Goodbye Mary Angela.”

With those words, Todd kissed Mary’s forehead and walked out of the room.

The moment Mary heard the door close, she burst into tears.

She was not sure why but her heart felt twice as heavy, her chest burnt and her eyes hurt.

Mary did not know what hurt the most. The fact that Todd did not believe her or the fact that he called her crazy.

She felt betrayed.

After a few minutes, total silence engulfed the house.

Mary gazed at the door of the bedroom. She would have locked it but for little Melody’s sake, Richard had the locks removed. The young girl oft left her room to her parent’s bedroom, at early hours of the morning.

“That bastard keeps acting like he’s a victim. He acts like he’s the best father in the world. I’ll expose him and when I find my truth, if he’s responsible for every horrible thing I’ve gone through, I’ll kill him.” Mary said in a bold whisper.

Sorrow became anger which fuelled dark intent inscribed in her heart.

Mary sat up and placed the duvet over her head.

She turned on the flashlight she found earlier and took the red-covered book from under the pillow.

Mary took the photograph she saw earlier that day out of the book. She had kept it in the first page of the book for easy access.

She stared at the teenagers in the photograph and then focused her gaze on her image.

“I look so happy. They all do. I must’ve been really close to them and yet I don’t remember them. I hate myself!” Mary screamed and put her hands over her lips after Melody turned.

Mary’s limbs shook in anger and she threw the book at the door.

When she realised the thud could invite another night visitor, she quickly got up and walked to the door.

Several pictures flew out of the book.

Mary wrapped her fingers around the flashlight in a firm grip as she began to pick up the pictures.

She gathered all the pictures and while she scanned the room in patience to ensure no photograph was left out, she found one close to Melody’s bed.

Mary walked towards Melody’s bed and picked up the photo.

The image on the photograph startled her.

The flashlight fell out of her mouth and she squeezed the plaid cotton pyjamas sleeves she wore. She could hear her heart beat increase.

The only words her trembling lips could utter were the question;

“What the hell is this?”

In the dark, George paced about his small room.

He was lost in thoughts of ponder and wonder, while he toyed with a knife in his left hand and held the photograph he took from the tin box in his right. Both items retrieved from his parent’s bedroom, became a completion to his walk of confusion.

He tried his best to figure out the connection between the little blonde boy he saw in the picture he held and the blonde girl he had seen in the photograph found in the red-covered book.

George also wondered why his mother stopped his father, from knowing about his presence in the master bedroom.

“Could it have been a coincidence? Did she really save my ass? It makes no sense…Maybe it was really a coincidence…Maybe she really wanted to get something from her room but changed her mind…No…It makes no sense…the timing was too perfect…If she did cover up for me, why? Does she know something? Maybe she knows something about the blonde kid in the picture…Should I ask her? No…It’s too risky…I can’t open the cans of worms all at once…Perhaps the blonde kid and the blonde girl aren’t related…Dopple ganger? I think…” George’s thoughts reacted in the fashion reserved for a detective.

He loved every moment of it but he feared the answers he might discover.

While lost in the excitement of discoveries, George heard the door of his room creak at its hinges.

“Should I pretend to be asleep…better avoid trouble if its dad…it could be mom…I should sit…No…”

While confusion played poker with his choices, the door of George’s bedroom, flew wide open and the light was switched on.

Sweat trickled down George’s neck. He was every bit of uncomfortable.

He quickly kicked the knife under the bed with his heel and sat on the photograph. His lips could not move since his mind was unsure if he had to ask a question or state an excuse.

While he sat up straight, his eyes remained fixed on the wooden floor in a realm between repentance and regret.

“George?” The voice of the figure at the door called.