A moth and a girl's dad.
She spread her legs. Solid stance. Held up her hand. Palm facing the dying man and the moth. A shout from behind. A silent shout. And silent and deadly and violent and strong and fast and hard and full and nerve killing and bone breaking and awful and lovely and everything and anything and something and nothing and all the things on her mind shout that tore air and dust and mist and microbes and everything apart as it danced spirally through her boiling body toward the enemy that was threatening her dad and had to die an awful death and pulled itself together to form a spear that pierced the bright shell and cut through the interior and finally crushed the moth's heart sending the beast into its doom.
Only in death would the monster be silent. I could see him. He had been watching. Doing nothing. I glared. He smiled. The girl's dad was safe. The girl picked me up. I couldn't walk. She was so strong. My hero. Not like him. My lovely hero.
The light returned. Quiet howling far away. The old dumb world returned. Fake snow and mist. Better than the sad darkness and rust. The town. It didn't care about us. Better this way.
We had done the stupid school. And those other places. I wondered what he had done to the girl's drawing. I didn't want to go back to the hospital. The man with the gun. He could still be there. Somewhere else.
He had mentioned the lighthouse. No reason to trust him anymore. I wanted to hurt him. Make him pay. It was so unfair to the girl's dad. And to the girl. I wondered why he had turned against us.
In the cabin. He was so nice. Gave me everything. But later he looked to old. Or sick. I wondered. I had a feeling. We'd find out. In time. Patience.
She carried me toward the lake. It was settled. The lighthouse. Right and left. No bird monsters or dogs. Couldn't see us. I had never really felt safe before. But now.
I had dozed off. Or maybe she was just that fast. The lake wasn't far away. We stopped outside a house. An adult place. I didn't like it. She didn't care. Carried me inside.
Bottles. Tables for games with small balls. Green. We continued. The bathroom. Filthy. But it was okay. She let go of me. I could stand on my own.
The girl turned on the water. Wetted her hands. I pulled up my dress so she could wash me. No blood. My skin was blue and purple. But it got off when she washed it. The pain left me alone.
Everywhere. She cleaned it all. Washed my sorrows away. To feel better. I wasn't sore anymore. As good as new. I looked at the broken mirror. Trace of sadness. Reminded me. I wanted to see myself. There were no mirrors anywhere.
The girl said I was pretty. Wasn't enough. I asked her. She didn't say anything. But I could sense it. She wanted to see herself too. Wondered. Someone had broken all the mirrors. So unfair.
I straightened the dress. And the red bow. The light went out. Weak howling somewhere. I hated this place. Took her hand. Something scratched the toilet stall door. From the inside. I didn't want to know. What it was. Probably something nasty. We left the bathroom.