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"Nessa."
Vanessa's eyes fluttered as her hair was tugged at.
"Nessa, please," the voice choked out again, desperate and terrified. She opened her eyes, blinking away the darkness.
Her little brother sniffled and whimpered just by the side of her bed, a Foxy plush clutched tight against his side. "Please," he sobbed out, his tiny hand tugging her hair once again. Vanessa just stared at him. He should be in bed—they were both supposed to be in bed this late; Dad hated having his work disturbed by just even a peep from them.
"Michael?" she yawned, clutching her Bonnie plush closer to her chest. "Why are you up? Dad's not going to be happy if he sees you," she whispered, sitting up and taking in her younger brother's form more. His face was covered in snot and tears, his hair was tussled around, his pajama pants were being shamefully hidden by the stuffed fox.
Michael hiccuped, stuttering over his words. "I had another acci-accident, and-and Dad found out," he whimpered. "Please, Nessa, don't let him hurt me!"
Vanessa's mouth went dry—she knew better. She really did know better than to interfere, though even through that she knew it was just too unfair. She didn't understand why Michael was this old and still having accidents, but she still felt bad for him every time Dad found out, no matter how hard Michael tried to hide the fact.
He was just so young he didn't understand what he was doing wrong. He's just a little kid. Just like Charlie, just like herself. Just like the little boy that had been lying lifeless in the back of her dad's car just a week ago.
Vanessa chewed on her lip, her fingers digging into her plush.
She knew better. She was supposed to be the good one. The obedient one.
When she looked back to Michael, she saw that lifeless face.
She took in a quick gasp. She couldn't help but feel like she was making the wrong decision as she nodded. "Yeah." She pulled up her blanket to allow him room, closing her eyes, hoping the image of the boy's face would go away. "Hurry."
Michael scrambled up, pressing his smaller body right up against hers, his arms wrapping as tight as they could possibly be.
Vanessa threw the blanket back over them. She flinched when she heard that stair that always creaked at the top of the steps. She pushed at Michael's head. "Under the blanket, under the blanket!" she said in a panicked whisper.
She could feel Michael sniffling against her, trying to calm himself, as she herself attempted to do the same. She snapped her eyes shut, just hoping he wouldn't check her room.
When Michael's sobs were still heard from under her blanket, she tapped his head. "Michael, you need to be quiet, or he'll find us—"
"Michael," their dad's voice called. "Where did you go, buddy?" The term of endearment didn't sound right—the word was so much colder than when it would leave the Yellow Rabbit's snout. In some twisted way the words were meant to mimic the character from when it would play hide and seek with Michael, Vanessa, and the other kids.
It just didn't sound right from her dad's mouth, even if it was the same voice.
Vanessa and Michael jumped as a closet door slammed shut. She pressed Michael closer, her other hand reaching to cover Michael's mouth when he whimpered from the noise.
Her chest was rising rapidly in panic as she closed her eyes again, pretending to be asleep against her pillow. Pretending.
She held Michael tighter as another door slammed shut, heard along with a vague noise of metal clinking against metal. The noise was of something she knew all too well.
"You can't hide from me forever."
Vanessa gulped as she heard the knob of her door rattle, her nails practically digging into Michael's cheek to silence him. The door swung open, a lot quieter than the others, casting light across her bed. She heard the board just in front of her door creak. Her eyes were squeezed so tight colors were starting to dance in her vision.
"Vanessa," her dad said barely above a whisper. "My child." His foot tapped steadily against the floor. "My little girl." Vanessa trembled as she heard that same telltale clink of metal. She didn't have to open her eyes to know what it was. "My favorite."
He took one more step across the creaking board. "You would never hide something from me, would you?" His words were starting to slur, just barely making sense to Vanessa's ears.
Vanessa kept her mouth shut, much to the dismay of her dad.
"WOULD YOU?" he yelled suddenly, making Vanessa jump, her knee accidentally catching Michael in the nose. She clutched her hand tighter around his mouth to muffle the whimper.
"I know you're awake, Vanessa."
Vanessa just kept her eyes squeezed tighter even when she knew she was found out, even though she knew she had no defense left.
Her father took another step into the room, blocking out more of the hallway light that had been shining on her. "Where is he?"
Vanessa's lips trembled violently as they opened to say something, anything. "What?" she squeaked out, her eyes reluctantly fluttering open as if to make it in some way believable that she had just woken up.
Her father was outlined by the light, his apron lined with tools still tied around his waist. Her eyes caught sight of the belt hanging in his hand, folded twice. She felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest.
"You have Michael. Where is he?"
Vanessa shook her head as she watched him approach closer, the belt buckle swinging around loosely. One time he had caught Vanessa a little too hard in the arm with the buckle end. She had to lie to all of her teachers that the gash was just from a fall. It hurt so horribly for weeks and left a funny-looking scar the other kids point at and joke about.
Even thinking about that past pain, Vanessa still shook her head again. "He's not in here, Dad."
He stayed quiet as he came up to her bed. He squatted down slowly, his face now right in front of hers. His eyes were wild like her own.
He reached the hand without the belt out, and Vanessa flinched as he placed his hand on her tear-covered cheek.
"Oh, Bun, you would never lie to me, right?"
Vanessa didn't answer—either one was bad. Her dad didn't like being lied to, but he'd also be angry at her for interfering.
"Right?"
Vanessa shook her head insistently, splattering her tears on her pillow.
"RIGHT?" he yelled, specks of his spit hitting her face.
Vanessa jerked back, letting out a sob. "No, Dad! I would never lie to you!"
It went quiet between them, the whole house silent besides the muffled cries of Michael just against her hand.
"So why are you lying to me right now?" he asked before gathering a handful of her blanket in his hand and yanking it off onto the floor. Revealing Michael and his still soaked pants.
Michael screamed behind Vanessa's hand as their father pulled him by his shirt collar. Vanessa grabbed Michael's arms before their dad could pull him completely away, keeping a tight hold on her little brother.
"Please, please don't hurt him!" she begged even as her dad pulled harder and freed the kicking and screaming boy from her grip. "PLEASE, DAD!" she choked out as she watched Michael get dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, his Foxy plush falling from his hands.
Her words did nothing as she watched Michael get lashed with the belt, just making the kid scream louder.
She tucked her head down, covering her ears, and when she saw that boy's face once again in place of Michael's, she squeezed her eyes shut too. The world outside her head became nothing besides muffled cries and smacks. If just for a moment she wanted to believe nothing was happening, she didn't want to believe she had let Michael get hurt again, and she didn't want to believe the belt was probably going to be turned on her next.
As the muffled sounds outside her own little world quieted, her anxiety flared up, her breath coming to her in quick, panicked gulps.
Her blanket was yanked up again, large hands wrapping around her wrists, pulling them away from her ears.
She sobbed, taking a couple of moments to open her eyes again, her dad just staring back at her blankly.
"Please," she whispered. She jerked back as her dad crowded her against the bed, either of his knees planting on either side of her as he took one of his hands from her wrist to instead wrench her head up to look at him. Their faces are hardly an inch apart.
"You are my children. You remember that, Vanessa? He is my child before he is your brother," he growled, his foul breath hitting her with every word. "You have no right to protect him from ME. You do this again and it'll be you instead of him, you got it?"
She nodded, the best she could with his hand clutching so hard at her chin. Digging in finger-shaped bruises into the delicate skin.
Her eyes wandered off from his, accidentally catching Michael crying slumped over against the wall. Just like the body she helped Dad with, the one in his car, the boy was no older than Michael.
She felt sick.
"Good," her dad responded. "But you still need to make up for this, Vanessa." Her dad picked up the belt he had laid on the bed next to her and then placed it in her hand. "I don't think Mikey has learned yet due to your coddling."
Vanessa looked down at the belt. The strip of leather felt so heavy in her hands. She glanced back to Michael. Her dad's hands wrapped around hers tightly.
"You know what you have to do—help me make this right."