Into the Shadows:
The Coming Dark (c)
Chapter One
By Fiction Writer #13
Edited by Tajod
(nosex, paranormal)

"Mommy!"

Little Beth's scream shattered the silence of the Johnson's home.  
Mary Johnson, confused by interrupted dreams and exhaustion, 
awoke and peered out into the darkened room.  Unsure whether the 
scream was real or just a figment of her imagination, she listened 
intently.  The warmth of her husband's sleeping form next to her drew 
her back under the covers for a snuggle.

"All in my head..." she mumbled softly to herself, drifting back into her 
dream world.

"Mommy!  Mommy!"

She woke with a start, realizing this time the scream was real.  Her 
body ached from moving so many boxes out of the old house into the 
new one, the unfamiliar exercise taking its toll on her muscles.

"Steve, wake up. Please go see what she wants now," Mary 
whispered, nudging his shoulder.

Steve rolled over and stared through half lidded eyes at Mary. "She's 
calling for you, pumpkin."

"I don't care; I'm too tired to move."

Once again silence filled the night; the couple lay entwined under the 
heavy down filled comforter.  It was a particularly cold November, 
even for upstate New York.

"Daddy!"

"Ha!  That time she called for you, Steve."

Steve responded by faking a snore. 

"Steve.  Steve, knock it off!  Come on, just go see what she wants," 
Mary pleaded while pushing on the totally slack man beside her.

"Maybe she'll go back to sleep if we leave her alone." Steve rolled 
back, away from his wife's persistent prodding. "I wish she would 
sleep through one night, just one damn night."

Mary gave up her small assault. "You know what the books said; the 
nightmares will fade away after a while.  This is all new to her, new 
family, new city, new home.  She's adjusting; you know what she 
went through."

"That's just it, we don't know, we're just assuming that she was 
abused.  They won't tell us anything.  Only that she needs to feel 
safe, and then the nightmares will go away.  It's been six months 
already, I just want to sleep through one night without being woken 
up, just one," Steve mumbled into his forearm.

"You... you don't regret adopting her, do you?"

Steve rolled again, facing his wife once more. "Of course not honey, 
she needs a family like ours.  I'm just stressed out and tired." Steve 
leaned in and planted a kiss on his wife's lips.

Mary snuggled in closer, surrounding his body with her own, sharing 
her warmth with him.  She knew he was happy with their decision to 
adopt little Bethany.  The smile on Steve's face when he held Beth 
spoke volumes of how truly happy he was to bring her into their 
household.

She felt the same of course, but sometimes, sometimes the screams 
of terror that echoed through the halls at night made her wonder if the 
adoption agency made a mistake in choosing them to raise her.

The agency came highly recommended.  They had done their 
research, online and on the phone.  The Helping Hands of Highland 
Adoption Center was perfectly respectable and trustworthy.  So, how 
could they have mistaken Mary and Steve as being capable to raise 
Bethany?  They must have made an error while going through the 
application process, slipped past the interviewer's keen awareness.  
Something went wrong somewhere, Mary was certain of that.  There 
was no way it should have been that easy to bring home such a 
sweet and beautiful child like Bethany.

She'd read all the horror stories that other adoptive parents had gone 
through.  The delays, the fees, birth parents changing their minds, 
years of court battles and paper work.  All to achieve something that 
Steve and Mary Johnson accomplished within a year of filling out the 
first application.  It didn't feel right, something was amiss; to gain so 
much happiness with so little effort?  No, something was definitely not 
right.

Maybe, maybe she had gone through the pain of loss that these other 
parents had suffered.  Just not in the same way they had.  Two years 
after getting married, Mary and Steve had their first child, a bouncing 
baby boy they named Tommy.  Three years later, cancer stole away 
her ability to have anymore children of her own.

Those were the dark times for the Johnson's.  Mary withdrew into a 
depression and almost never came back.  Steve struggled to provide 
for his family and pay the mounting hospital bills that accrued during 
her treatments.  But they survived, had come through it, and were a 
stronger family because of the experience.

Life continued on.  Steve got a promotion; Mary raised Tommy and 
started an online support group for cancer survivors.  Then came the 
morning when Mary nervously asked Steve how he felt about 
adoption.  She was surprised by his immediate enthusiasm, and fell 
in love with him all over again.

"Mommy!  Daddy!"

The child's scream broke Mary out of her reverie.  Steve lay 
motionless beside her, now snoring for real.  With reluctance she 
willed herself to throw the covers aside.  She didn't want Bethany to 
wake up Tommy, he was playing a hockey game tomorrow.

'When did he get to be so old?' she wondered, thinking about the now 
twelve year old sleeping upstairs in the attic room.  She swung her 
legs over the edge of the bed and plunged her toes into the soft pile 
of the carpet below.  Wrapping her arms around her chest to stave off 
the chill, she made her way out into the darkened hallway.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mommy!  Mommy!"

Tommy pressed the pillow harder against his ears. 'Why won't they 
just see what she wants?' he grumbled to himself.

He loved his new room, it was so much bigger than his old one, but 
now he was directly above Beth's room.  His new little sister had a 
habit of crying herself to sleep, some nights more vocally than others.  
Tonight seemed to be one of the worst so far.

Just his luck, the big game was tomorrow, and Debbie Fergusson 
would be watching.  He needed to get some sleep or else she would 
never see how well he played.  He planned on asking her out after 
the game.

"Daddy!"

The noise echoed up the heating vent, accompanied by sobbing.  He 
felt bad for her.  He understood that she was having nightmares 
because of something bad that actually happened to her, not just the 
normal bad dreams that everyone had from time to time.

Why wouldn't his parents just go to her, they had to hear her?  They'd 
become slower and slower to react to her calls in the night.  Months 
of interrupted sleep had taken its toll on all of them.  There was a time 
when Tommy would have marched downstairs to complain about all 
the noise, but guilt overpowered that urge now.  After all, it was 
Tommy who told his parents what he heard a while back.  It was his 
fault that Beth now had to see that shrink three times a week, his fault 
that the crying was now louder, and lasted longer.

Tommy wasn't jealous when his parents told him they were adopting 
another child, but he was disappointed that it wasn't a little brother 
that would be coming home.  He could see how happy they were, and 
that made him happy.  He remembered a time when all his mother 
did was cry, and his father was never home.  He remembered them 
fighting about money, and a Christmas with old toys re-wrapped and 
given to him again.  Those days were long gone though, and things 
had been getting better since.

The first few weeks went by with no problems.  Tommy adjusted to 
life with a shy nine-year-old sister fairly quickly.  It helped that 
Bethany seemed elated to have an older brother, and followed him 
around enthralled by everything he said or did.  She listened intently 
to his stories of hockey fights, and buzzer beating goals.  She 
cheered for him during games, even when he wasn't making a play.  
She even wanted to watch the same TV shows he did, never missing 
an NHL game with him.  To Tommy, she was the coolest little sister 
he could have hoped for.

That is until last June.  That's when everything started to change for 
the worst.  His parents had just announced the move to the new 
house.  It was close enough for Tom to continue going to the same 
school, and play for the same hockey team, but it meant moving to a 
new neighborhood far away from his best friend, Justin.  After tossing 
and turning for a few hours, Tommy got up to walk to the bathroom 
down the hall.  On the way he passed Bethany's room, her door 
decorated with large paper flowers and butterflies.  She should have 
been asleep, but Tommy heard her talking.  No louder than a 
whisper, but in the silence of 3am he could make out some of what 
she was saying.

"No... I won't tell them.  I promise.  They're nice.  No, don't hurt them, 
I promise I won't say anything.  I know.  Please.  I didn't mean to last 
time.  I know," she began crying softly, "I know.  Please, it won't 
happen again.  No, I don't want to.  Please don't, stop it... I can't.  
Leave me alone... I won't let you hurt them like you did to Mommy 
and Daddy.  I'm sorry, Yes.  I will.  I promise, just don't hurt them, 
they don't know.  If you do I'll tell Tommy, he'll beat you up!  He's 
strong and beats people up all the time in hockey!"

Tommy took a step away from her door, hearing his name taking him 
by surprise. "No!  No don't!  I'm sorry, don't!  Please don't, I'm sorry, I 
didn't mean to.  I won't tell, I promise." Her sobbing continued for a 
few minutes more, and then faded into silence as she fell asleep.

Tommy stood there, stunned by what he heard.  He didn't know if he 
should knock and see if she was okay, or break down the door and 
save her.  The only thing stopping him from rushing in was the fact 
that he didn't hear any other voices, only Bethany's.  Maybe she had 
an imaginary friend?  A mean imaginary friend who threatened to hurt 
her family?

Tom retreated to his room, unsure of how to act.  He decided to tell 
his parents about the strange one-sided conversation the next day.  
They would know what to do if anything needed to be done at all.

The next day he waited for Bethany to leave for her piano lessons 
before he told his parents.  They seemed very concerned, and 
explained that they knew very little about Bethany's life before she 
came to live with them.  It sounded to them like she was hiding some 
kind of abuse, and was still too afraid to tell anyone about it.  They 
thanked him for telling them, and assured him he'd done the right 
thing.  In the days following it didn't seem like he had done the right 
thing.

His parents took Bethany to a doctor who wanted her to keep coming 
back.  Bethany was scared of her, and didn't want to go, but his 
parents said it would help her.  At some point she realized that 
Tommy had been the one who told on her.  She stopped cheering for 
him after that.  No more hockey games, no more story time, she 
seemed to avoid him completely.

His guilt continued to build as time passed.  Every night since she 
first went to that doctor she cried herself to sleep.  Then the 
nightmares came, the screaming waking Tommy from his own 
restless dreams.  He betrayed her, and she hated him for it.  Now, 
like some sick joke, his new bedroom directly above hers seemed to 
amplify her pain, and pour it directly into Tommy's heart. 'It's all my 
fault.'

"Mommy!  Daddy!"

Tears stung Tom's eyes. 'She thought I was big and strong, that I 
would protect her.  Instead I ratted her out to Mom and Dad.'

Tom rolled on his back and stared blankly at the angled ceiling.  He 
wanted to go to her, to tell her everything was okay, to tell her that 
her big brother would protect her from all the bad things.  That he was 
sorry for telling on her, and he only did it because he wanted to help 
her.  His body wouldn't move though, his guilt weighed too heavy 
upon his chest.  He feared she would never forgive him; she would 
never call him her brother ever again.

Turning his head he sought out the digital clock on his dresser. 'Huh, 
that's strange.' The green glow of the numbers was no where to be 
seen. 'The power must be off, that's why it's so cold in here,' he 
thought to himself, pulling the covers closer.

"No Don't!"

The sudden scream brought his attention back to his sister's plight.

"Oh my God!  Bethany, run!"

Was that his Mom's voice?

"Mommy, no!  Don't hurt my Mommy!"

There were some loud crashing noises, like furniture being 
overturned, then silence.

"What the fuck was that?" Tommy leapt from the warmth of his bed, 
grabbed his hockey stick from the corner, and began to make his way 
slowly and quietly down the stairs.

'Someone is in the house, they're in Bethany's room, and they're 
hurting Mom.  I've got to help them,' thought Tommy, holding his 
weapon tightly as his heart raced. 'Where the fuck is Dad?'

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

'So help me God, if I don't get any sleep tonight I'll fucking kill 
everyone I see tomorrow!' Steve Johnson was screaming in his head.  
The last few months had torn his sanity from him.  He was tense and 
felt as though he would snap at any moment.  Sleep, he needed to 
sleep.

He wasn't really angry with his daughter, just frustrated.  Six months 
with no improvement, in fact it seemed to be getting worse.  
Everything was just piling up in his head with no pressure release.

For the past five nights in a row he had been the one to get up and 
calm Bethany down.  Tonight he needed to sleep; Mary would have 
to take care of her.  He felt guilty but he knew in his present condition 
he might accidentally snap in front of his already frightened little girl.

Steve had been taking Bethany to her doctor appointments.  She 
hated them, and he believed she'd started to hate him for bringing her 
to them.  It was probably all in his head, but she seemed to be getting 
more and more distant.

After every session the doctor would speak privately with Steve.  In 
the beginning Bethany refused to speak with the psychologist, but 
she would draw pictures.  Art therapy is what they called it.  To Steve 
it seemed a waste of money.  All of her drawings were of the same 
thing, her new happy family.

It wasn't until last week that they began to use hypnosis with her.  
Once again Steve thought it was a load of crap, but the results were 
promising.  While in the sleep-like trance Bethany began to open up 
about her life with her birth parents.  What came out of that little girls 
mouth was enough to give Stephen King nightmares.  Her drawings 
took on new disturbing twist as well.

"Mommy!  Daddy!"

'Oh god not again.' Steve lay completely still and faked snoring again, 
hopefully being a bit more believable.  He could feel motion beside 
him as his wife stirred back to life.  After a few moments pause the 
covers pulled back and she slid out of bed.

'Thank God!' Steve was elated.  Soon his snores would be real.

He waited until he was sure Mary had left the room before pulling her 
pillow over his head to block out any other noises.  He opened his 
eyes to check that he hadn't been caught.  Nope, he could see Mary 
walking down the dark hallway to Bethany's room.  After fourteen 
years of marriage she still had a great ass.  Sighing deeply, Steve 
closed his eyes once more.

His mind wondered through the day's events, seeking a calming 
influence to let him drift off.  In the half asleep, half awake ether he 
envisioned he was once again in the office of Dr. Sheila Lowery.

She was spreading several of Bethany's new drawings out before 
him, blanketing her normally orderly desk.  The images were drawn 
with a frantic hand, lines overlapping one another, colors mixing and 
forming new ones.  It was obviously the work of a child, but the 
subject matter was far more adult.  Some things seemed perfectly 
normal at first glance; closer inspection would reveal startling details.

The happy family shown holding hands.  Mother, Father, and Bethany 
each drawn with red-orange hair; obviously a depiction of her old 
family.  Blink your eyes, squint, look past the happy faces.  They were 
nude, the place they were in was dark, candles were burning all 
around, and Bethany's face was not smiling, she was afraid.

The next drawing seemed as though it had been a mistake, the 
original drawing covered over in haste by a black crayon.  Blink your 
eyes, squint, look past the smears of black wax.  Bodies twisted in a 
sexual embrace, a child's body surrounded by a circle of red, strange 
designs all around.  One design Steve recognized instantly, that of a 
pentagram.

The final artistic creation was a little torn, as if Bethany hadn't wanted 
to hand it over to Dr. Lowery and a struggle had occurred.  The image 
depicted little Bethany all alone in the dark.  Blink your eyes, squint; 
see what she doesn't want you to see.  The tears in her eyes, the 
lifeless bodies of her parents on the floor, completely scribbled over 
with what remained of her black crayon, and something else.  He 
caught something even the over-paid doctor hadn't seen.  What 
appeared to have been the random scribbles of crayon around her 
self-portrait were in fact two very large hands grasping Bethany 
around the waist from behind.

The memory of that revelation was enough to shake Steve from 
sleep.  Slowly he opened his eyes.  He was staring down the dark 
hallway again, only this time instead of the retreating shape of his 
wife's lovely rear, he could see his twelve year old son Tommy 
running to Bethany's bedroom door.  He had to be dreaming, it was 
too strange to be real.  Tommy held his hockey stick like a samurai 
sword out in front of him.  Suddenly he raised his foot and gave a 
great kick to Beth's door, bursting it open before charging in.

'What the hell is he doing?'

Steve pulled the pillow from his head and immediately heard the 
sounds of struggle coming from down the hall. 'Did Tommy just go 
insane?'

"Dad, help!!"

Steve was out of bed and on the run before Tommy's cry for help 
ended.  It was only about thirty feet to Beth's room but it felt as if the 
hallway had magically grown longer.  By the time he reached the 
remains of the shattered doorway Steve was prepared to fight to the 
death to save his family, but he wasn't prepared for what he found...



Continued in Chapter Two....


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The Coming Dark 01