Chapter 7 Tash
Tash
The first crash punched through my dream like a gunshot. I sat straight up, blinded by the numbers on the alarm clock, then scrambled for my robe. The next noise sounded worse. Something thumping hard, then by the time I heard a high cry, I was already halfway down the hall to Fifi's room.
The house was ice cold in the dark. Maybe I left a window cracked, or maybe the old insulation was garbage, but that wasn't important.
Down the hall, Fifi's bedroom door was open just a sliver.
Huey always liked to have access to Fifi's room at night.
The only light came from the nightlight plugged into the baseboard, tossing weird, humped shadows across the half-unpacked boxes that blocked the way.
I made it to the threshold and got a grip on my panic.
Fifi's bedsheets had twisted halfway off the mattress.
She was writhing, heels pounding the mattress, both hands clenched on the comforter so tight her knuckles blanched.
For a horrible moment, I thought it was a seizure, but her eyes were jammed shut.
The sounds coming out of her weren't quite words, not yet.
Then she started muttering, low and urgent.
Her voice didn't even sound like her own.
"Wake up, little spark. It's time you know who you are. "
I charged in. Maybe not the best approach, but all the textbooks and therapy pamphlets in the world couldn't prepare me for the real thing.
Huey was already there, on the bed, wild-eyed and pawing at Fifi's arm.
He whined, then headbutted Fifi's palm like he wanted to knock her out of her nightmare with sheer stubbornness.
"Fifi, hey, it's okay, you're dreaming." I reached out, keeping my touch light, and tried to remember every instruction from every crisis plan we'd ever made.
It didn't work. Her whole body kicked harder, twisting so badly I thought she'd roll right off the mattress.
Then, with a snap that shot straight down my spine, the bed frame gave out.
The side rail split, dumping Fifi and the dog into a heap.
Pillows and blankets went everywhere, but Fifi didn't open her eyes.
She just muttered again, "Wake up, little spark, you have to wake up. "
Huey jammed himself against her like a furry sandbag. He whined so loudly it almost drowned out the next set of thumps.
I didn't realize Mere was behind me until she barreled past, face pale under the tangled hair. "Oh my god," Mere blurted, hooking her arms under her sister's shoulders. "Fifi, you gotta get up, you're gonna crack your skull—"
"I got her. Watch her head." I gripped Fifi's shoulder, just enough to steady her if she jerked awake.
She didn't, not for another minute. She thrashed and kicked, and for a split second, I thought her teeth might snap shut on her own tongue.
Then, all at once, her eyes popped open. She gasped like a landed fish, then scrambled upright, nearly knocking me back.
Her whole body shook, every muscle locked in a panic I recognized way too well. She blinked, wild-eyed, and for a terrifying instant didn't seem to know where she was.
Huey held the line. He shoved his head into her lap, wiggling so hard the bed groaned again, and fixed on her with big brown eyes that said don't let go, please, I'm right here.
Mere held her wrist and crooned, "You're okay, it's safe, you're just here, I promise, relax." True enough, but Fifi wasn't landing. Not yet. I wanted to join Mere, but this called for intervention.
I fumbled for my phone, thumbed in the therapist's after-hours number with hands that were way too shaky for their own good. The obligatory robot voice answered. I bulldozed past the menu, desperate to get a human on the line.
The crisis counselor came on a moment later. She was soothing and professional, but I talked fast, giving the whole story. Nightmare, thrashing, furniture broken. She asked about injuries. No blood, no missing teeth. I could almost hear her scribbling notes.
"Okay. She's having trouble grounding. She's safe now, right? Someone's with her? Let's try a breathing exercise," the woman said, voice warm but calm.
I repeated every word out loud, hoping it would sink in. "All right, Fi, box breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. I'll do it with you." I counted, exaggerating my own breathing, and made a big show of it. Huey grunted and panted like a dying steam engine.
Fifi tried, she really did. But every time she got to the "hold" part, her lungs stuttered, and she shook so badly she had to start over.
I counted with her, but my mind kept slipping.
I saw a flash of a face I'd been trying very hard not to think about.
Strong jaw, amber eyes, the kind of mouth that made a stupid one-night decision feel inevitable.
I pushed the memory out before it could get sharp.
Mere whispered encouragement and kept kneading her hand like that alone could work miracles. After half a dozen rounds, Fifi just shook her head and buried her face in Huey's fur, the classic retreat.
I didn't blame her. I could barely keep my own breathing normal.
The therapist suggested more tricks. Cold water, a snack, ice cubes on the wrists, but Fifi shrank away from each one, like her nerves couldn't take another jolt.
Finally, the tremors started to die down.
Fifi blinked and wiped her face on her sleeve, then sort of slumped in on herself.
I settled for a quick, "I'll be right back", and hustled to the kitchen for water, then came back to find both girls sitting on the mattress, the metal bed frame bent at a weird angle.
Huey had full claim on Fifi's lap now. She gripped his coat with both hands, as if she let go, gravity might kick her out of reality again.
"Nobody's going back to bed after that," I said, meaning it as a joke, but it didn't quite land. "You want to talk about what happened?"
Fifi spat hair out of her mouth, then huddled cross-legged, shivering in her nightshirt and pajama bottoms.
"It's not like the other times, Mom," she said.
Her voice was raw as though she'd been screaming at a concert all night.
"This isn't just dreams or whatever. I mean, I know the difference.
This was real. It's like…" She groped for words, kneading Huey's ear between her thumb and finger.
"It's like something's trying to hatch inside me. "
I braced but kept my face blank and let her talk.
"It started normally. I was just dreaming, like always.
Then everything went bright. Like, too bright, even with my eyes closed.
And I saw, I don't know, flashes? Scales, I think, like huge ones.
And fire. Not metaphor-fire. Like, actual flames.
At first, it was in my head, but then it got hot. All over."
She paused to catch her breath. Mere and I swapped a look. Hers was unreadable, and mine was fake-calm.
Fifi looked at her trembling hands, like she half-expected them to catch on fire.
"It felt like my bones were melting, but as crazy as it sounds, it was in a good way, kind of, except the rest of me lost it.
And I heard that voice. It wasn't even my own, which is…
I know how that sounds. But it kept saying, 'Wake up, little spark.
It's time you know who you are.' Over and over. "
Huey groaned and rolled so he was belly up.
Mere tucked both legs up under her and leaned in. "You think it was, like, your anxiety? Or maybe hormones, mixed with all the stress? We still haven't gone through puberty. It's got to be happening soon. Because sometimes people get physical symptoms, even really strong ones, when—"
Fifi cut her off, her teeth flashing in a half-hearted grin. "Yeah, because hormones typically make you Hulk-smash furniture and dream about breathing fire. Should we check WebMD for 'is this puberty or possession'?"
Mere nodded, a teasing gleam entering her eye. "I read this Halloween article about a movie with an old priest and a young priest. Maybe watching it will help."
Fifi snorted and whacked her with a pillow, and Huey jumped to his feet, barking.
A moment of pure chaos, but then they were laughing and gasping for air, almost normal.
Relief poured through me, but under it was a faint tremor.
The moment felt too alive, too close to the buzzing under my skin that had been building for days.
I hated how familiar that feeling was. I remembered it from only one night in my entire life, and I'd spent seventeen years making sure it stayed buried.
But I saw the aftershocks. Fifi's hands still trembled. Mere laughed a little too loudly, eyes darting back to the busted bed frame every few seconds.
I parked myself on the edge of the mattress, careful not to make the wreckage worse. "Okay. So, next steps. Fifi, you can sleep in Mere's room on the floor, or we can invade the living room and set up camp. Or, if you two are feeling brave, we could attempt French toast at three in the morning."
Mere perked up immediately. "French toast."
Fifi shrugged, still hunched, but her lips twitched. "Definitely French toast."
I'd have promised them a trip to France if it meant they could keep this up.
"French toast it is." I squeezed Fifi's arms, then started shepherding everyone toward the kitchen.
Fifi shuffled with Huey mashed up against her shins, and Mere trailed behind, hands twisting in her sleeves.
I put the eggs and milk out on the counter.
It was automatic, but for some reason, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
The kitchen felt safer, though. With the lights on, everything read as normal.
Or as normal as it got in our family. Even so, that strange warmth hadn't let go.
It sat low and steady, the same inexplicable pull I'd felt a few days ago while sampling near the creek.
I told myself it was stress, but stress didn't make your stomach flip like that.
Fifi took her place at the table, Huey still on guard. She slumped, but her breathing was better now. "Sorry for the drama."
I waved her off. "You didn't ask for this. It's just your brain running overtime. If anything, I'm impressed with your upper body strength. I've heard about people flipping cars to save their kids in emergencies. Though if you wanted a new bed, you could have just mentioned it."
"Well, I've had it since I was little," she muttered, but there was a spark of amusement there. I'd missed that attitude.
Mere sprawled across from her, chin in her hand.
I tried to focus on their banter, but my thoughts were drifting again.
Back to the water. "Do you remember exactly what the scales looked like?
I mean, were they, like, shiny, or dull?
I wonder if it's your brain trying to process, like, some animal thing. Primal instincts or whatever."
Fifi shot her the most skeptical glare known to humanity. "Yeah, my primal instincts are to torch the furniture. Makes sense."
Mere grinned. "I still think we should try an exorcism, just to rule things out."
"You're going to get beaned again if you keep it up," Fifi threatened, but her smile was real this time.
I cracked the eggs, measured the milk, and let the reality settle in. Sometimes, things got weird. Sometimes you just made breakfast at three in the morning, pretending the shocks and shakes wouldn't still be there at sunrise.
The aroma of cinnamon and vanilla drifted through the kitchen.
Mere grabbed plates and forks. Fifi stared at her own hands, flexing each finger with slow, deliberate concentration.
"You sure you're okay?" I asked.
She chewed on it for a while, then nodded. "It's just, when I woke up, I thought it wasn't a dream. It was so real. The heat, the voice, the claws. I could feel them, at least for a minute."
"We could get a book on lucid dreaming, see if you can learn to guide your dreams," Mere offered.
Fifi looked up, eyes wide in the kitchen glare. "I've never had anything like that before. Usually it's just weird sounds, or bad memories, or that one time I dreamed about failing a chemistry test naked."
Mere snickered.
"But this was different. Like maybe I'm possessed by the world's lamest dragon or something." She thumped Huey's head gently. "At least I didn't set the dog on fire."
He inched closer to the table.
We ate French toast silently, three zombies and a canine garbage disposal. The food worked better than the breathing exercises. Everyone seemed steadier after eating.
Fifi's color was returning, but she kept clutching the dog.
When the plates were cleared, I guided the girls into the living room. Fifi refused to go upstairs, but she stretched out on the couch instead, arms wrapped around the world's bravest lapdog. Mere sprawled on the other end, flipping through her phone.
I waited until their breathing evened out before shutting off the lights.
But in the dark, I couldn't stop replaying Fifi's words.
Wake up, little spark.
I tried to file it under "just another nightmare," but it wouldn't go away. Nothing ever just happened by accident in our lives.
I'd keep watch tonight. Just in case round two decided to show up.
And in the morning, I'd order a new bed frame.