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The kids run around and smile, laughter on their lips, but a sadness hangs in the air as it always does. Even though a birthday is soon to be celebrated, nobody can shake the knowledge that it won’t be the same without Emma.
Surrounded by friends, Phil obediently tucks himself into bed and closes his eyes, praying for sweet dreams.
Phil comes to on the lawn of the Grace Field House where he was raised. But how can he be there, he ponders, since it’s a world away? He stands up, shivering from the dew on the grass. He directs his gaze towards the House and its clock tower—which pauses before chiming four in the morning—but he sees no one. Not Mama, nor Emma, nor any of the other kids. But behind him, towards the gate, a sudden rustling in the grass calls his attention.
Her grey skirt is flapping in the wind, synchronized with the blonde pigtails beneath her hat; her black jacket is cinched around her waist by her elbows while her hands hold a beloved item; her pale cheeks raise in a delicate smile.
Conny…?
She looks the same as the day she died. She was six years old and full of life, then suddenly dead with a flower in her chest. Phil’s eyes sting with tears as he runs towards her. Please let this be normal. I just want to talk to her again.
Her arms fall to her sides, hand secured on Little Bunny’s. The toy uses its feet to stand beside her, staring up at her with its eerily life-filled eyes. Phil stops in his tracks.
Conny’s head wobbles, then snaps back, hanging upside-down by a thread from her neck. Phil reels back and Little Bunny lets go of her hand, letting her collapse to her knees. Her corpse crumples onto the ground, the vida flower blooming in her chest.
“Oh, Phil,” Little Bunny sighs. “What are we going to do with you?” Blood pours from its eyes and forever-smiling mouth as it turns to look at Phil.
Phil’s stomach tightens. This is not what I had planned. He finds strength in his legs and darts for the house. Fortunately, Little Bunny is much slower than him with its stubby legs. He slams the door behind him and stumbles through the pitch blackness, groping for the railing of the stairs.
Something large trips his desperate steps. He crawls off of the thing and peers at it, but the shadows are too deep. He sticks his hand out in front of him, above the object, and waves it over it. His fingers collide with soft petals and a hard stem.
Gupna. He jumps back upon realizing it’s another dead body. He finds the flower again and, still hovering his hand, moves up the body, landing his hand on its face. He feels the person’s hair and recognizes it immediately. Sister Krone…! A few tears leak from his eyes, but he takes a deep breath and makes a beeline for the stairs.
A lantern’s light glows warmly at the top of the stairs. Isabella waits for Phil to arrive, patient as he hesitates. He rushes up the rest of the stairs and clings to her skirt, sobbing. “Mama….”
“You’re all right, Phil. Everything’s fine,” he wants her to say, but instead, she’s silent. He glances up at her just as she drops the lantern.
The glass shatters and the oil splashes across the floor, the fire consuming it instantly. Phil screams and grabs Isabella’s hand to tug her away. He yanks his hands back when he realizes they’ve been covered in a warm liquid: blood.
Isabella collapses, blood spilling from a gaping hole in her middle. Phil trips over his own feet trying to run away. He gallops down the halls, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing his nightmare would end.
“What’s wrong, Phil?”
He skids to a stop. This voice is familiar. The memory is too fresh. No, no, no….
The room becomes bright as Simon scoops him off the ground. “Don’t worry, I’ll write letters! I’ll even visit if you want, so you’ll never be lonely!” He grins his signature grin, cuddling and tickling Phil even while he holds his suitcase.
It’s unfair. Just stay here, Simon! We can think of something! Phil’s tears won’t stop, and his throat is too closed up to say anything. He just clings tightly to Simon’s neck and bawls.
Simon sets him down as best he can. “Woah, hey,” he chuckles. “I promise, okay?”
“Don’t go,” Phil cries, balling his fists around Simon’s collar. “Don’t go!”
Simon chuckles. Yukko, the Mama of that house, touches Phil’s hands gently with menacing nails. “It’s time to go, Simon.”
Simon smiles and heads downstairs, sealing his fate. Yukko casts a sideways glare at Phil. “Let it go, Phil,” she murmurs. “You’ll only make it harder on yourself.”
Phil hesitates until Yukko is out of sight. When he can’t even hear her footsteps anymore, he crashes down the stairs to prevent Simon from leaving before Yukko can ship him out herself. But when he gets outside, Phil discovers that Simon is already lying in a pool of his own blood.
Phil kneels over him and sobs. “I tried to warn you… tried to tell you not to go…. I wish I could’ve stopped you,” he mourns, staring into the playful boy’s wide, dead eyes.
He chokes on a shout rising in his throat and tears himself away from Simon’s stiff. Back inside, he breathes the clear air, just trying to calm his heart. The flow of tears subsides after a minute, and he swallows his fears back down.
Out of the blue, Phil is swept off his feet by a yet unidentified person. He yelps and struggles until he realizes who it is. “E-Emma!” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but he forces it down. After all, if she’s here….
“Gotcha! Come on, it’s time for breakfast!” She carries him off to the dining hall.
Phil doesn’t fight back anymore. This nightmare, he realizes, is completely out of his control. The green doors to the dining room are open wide, but the room isn’t bustling as it should be. Only one thing is there.
Little Bunny sits upright on the table. Emma grabs the toy and glances out the window. “There’s still time,” Ray’s voice calls, but Phil wants to scream the opposite. His throat, however, is too dry to speak.
Norman appears and accompanies Emma on the journey to the gate to return Conny’s toy—just like Phil had heard it told before. Phil tears across the grass in search of his older “siblings,” but they’re nowhere to be found. Not in the forest, not in the grass, not by the fence….
He reaches the gate. In the tunnel, there’s a wagon, and in the wagon, someone’s legs are hanging out. Phil can already tell from the bloodstains that this person is deceased. For an unexplainable reason, his feet carry him over to glace behind the curtain. Norman, a vida flower stabbed through his chest, is limp and soaked in blood, eyes wide in fear. His arms are mangled and there are many tears in his jacket.
Phil drops from his position onto the ground. All these people, taken away from him again. All the fear and sorrow he had felt now returns to him, chunk by chunk. First Conny, then Krone, then Isabella, Simon, and Norman—likely Emma would be next. Phil covers his eyes, curled up on the ground. He doesn’t want to see that again. That horrible image….
“Phil!” Emma’s voice chirps. He opens his eyes to find he’s in the field under the tree Ray liked. Emma waves at him and spreads her arms invitingly. Phil scampers towards her, desperate to keep at least one person with him. He believes that, just this once, he can stay with her a moment longer.
Two long, narrow claws slash through her abdomen.
Phil screeches to a halt. It happened so fast. He screams her name repeatedly, but he can’t even hear himself. She lands hard on the ground before he can get to her. He shakes her and embraces her and cries to whoever’s listening that this can’t be the end.
Suddenly, he finds himself sitting up in bed, sobbing into someone’s shoulder and whimpering loudly. He takes deep gasps of air into his lungs and quiets himself. Could this be… Emma?
He forces himself to meet the eyes of the person holding him. Ray’s uncovered eye stares back. “R-Ray….”
“Sorry I’m not Emma,” the older boy sighs, letting Phil sit more comfortably.
Phil shakes his head. “No, I didn’t expect that.”
Across the room, a concerned whisper—the source unidentifiable in the darkness—whispers, “You all right, Phil?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he lies, wiping his face. “Thanks.”
“How about we talk elsewhere?” Ray suggests, taking Phil’s hand and helping him out of the room.
Outside, Norman waits for them. When Phil sees him, he breaks down again, so Ray carries him to the library. There, Phil spills his worries and the whole nightmare to them down to the last detail he can recall.
Norman sighs. “You’ve been through way too much for someone your age.”
The little boy sniffles. “Yeah. If I lose anyone else, I… I’m gonna break into a million pieces.”
Ray snorts. “I get that. But hold on until Emma gets back, okay?”
That’s right, he reminds himself. She will return. “Yeah.”
Norman elbows Ray. “That could make him feel worse. The stress of keeping a current condition in this ever-changing world…. He could be put through a lot more just by doing that.”
Ray scoffs. “Then what do you suggest, genius?”
Norman smiles at Phil. “Let’s make a promise, okay? When Emma returns—which can’t be long now—we’re both gonna give her a big hug and tell her everything that happened while she was gone. From then on, we’re gonna stick by her side and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, right?”
Phil giggles. “Right. I promise.”
The two link their pinky fingers and nod. Ray rolls his eyes and smirks. “Wow.” Norman throws a glare at Ray as their hands part.
“Do you feel okay enough to get more sleep?” Norman questions Phil. “If not, you can stay with me or Ray.”
Phil nods. “I’d like to stay with one of you, if that’s really all right.”
Ray takes the wheel, clapping a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “All right, then tonight, you get to be my buddy. How’s that?”
Phil laughs. “Yay!” He follows Ray to his room, mind already filling with better thoughts.
“Oh, Phil,” Norman calls, catching his attention before he’s out of earshot, “happy birthday.”