As Iris washed the blood off her hands, she was filled with a cold but numb feeling. Mother watched from the doorway to the bathroom, a look of pride clearly on her face. "That was a hard thing to do, little one," Mother said. She walked over to her daughter and placed an arm on her shoulder. "It will get easier."

Iris raised her shoulders and dropped them. She shook off her hands and walked to her bedroom. Mother followed. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll take care of his body."

"Why did you kill him?" Iris finally said, whirling around. Mother cocked her head. "It was either going to be you or him. Would you rather it was you?" Iris shook her head and turned around, climbing up onto the bed. It rattled and shook like Iris's heart. She took her bear and clutched it close to her. It suddenly disappeared from her hands. Iris spun around again. It was in Mother's hands.

"Give it back," Iris said. Mother shook her head and began to walk out of the room. "You're too old for this," she called over her shoulder. "You'll soon take comfort in the new things I have planned."

Iris screamed and Mother stopped. She reached into her dress and threw a knife over her head. "Get comfortable with it," she said. And continued out of the room.

Iris jerked away from the knife and it landed blade down into her bed. She pulled it out and looked at it. It was her knife. It was still covered in her father's blood. Dried now. She scraped her nails along it, red curling onto her fingers and flaking onto her bedspread.

***

Three days later, Iris awoke to screaming. Then a thud. She jumped out of her bed and ran to the door. Peering past the railing, she could see Mother coming up the drive, dragging something writhing. It yelled and Mother smacked it across the head. It fell silent and still. Mother continued to drag it up the drive and into the house. Iris came forward and gripped the wood keeping her from falling her off the second floor. "What do you have?" she asked.

"Hush, little one," she grunted. She hauled it to the bottom of the stairs and dropped it. Iris walked down the stairs and her eyes widened. It looked like her dad. But younger. "Who is that?" she asked, hardly believing her eyes.

"A boy. Take him to your room." As Iris descended the stairs, Mother grabbed her hair. "When he wakes, tell him you were also taken."

"Taken?" Iris said. Her eyes went wide. "You stole him? Where are his parents?"

"I don't know! He was wandering in the woods and I found him."

"What do I do with him?"

"Don't touch him unless I tell you to. Play along like you don't know anything." Mother turned and walked to the kitchen, sending one last glare at Iris.

Iris wasn't the strongest person, as a matter of fact, she was smaller than average. Dragging the boy up the stairs was a painful procedure. One step at a time. The boy looked her age or younger. She grabbed an arm and slung it around her neck. She yanked and pulled and the boy slid up a bit. She dropped the arm and the boy collapsed onto a step, hitting his head.

"Sorry," she whispered. She walked around him and grabbed his feet. Maybe if she dragged him by his legs, it would go easier. Iris picked up the boys feet and began to spin him around. The boy's eyes flew open and he screamed. He kicked at Iris, hitting her on the head. She screamed too and fell down the stairs. Mother ran out of the kitchen with a cleaver. "What are you doing out of your room?" she cried. The boy sat up and scurried up the stairs, running into the bathroom. Iris blinked and followed him. Mother grabbed her hair and hissed, "Remember." Iris nodded and pulled away, following the boy up the stairs.

She peered into the bathroom. The boy was cowering by the tub. "Come on," she said. "Mother will get mad if we're not in the room." She took the boy's hand and ran to the next room. She closed the door behind them and led the boy to the bed. "You sit there," she said. He did so.

Iris jumped up onto the table and sat Indian style. They stared at each other for some time, the only thing in common with them the forming bruises on their heads.

"Mother?" the boy finally said. Iris nodded slowly.

"She's your mother?"

Iris winced. Already she had made an error. She tried to cover it up. "That's what she told me to call her," she said. The boy nodded, clearly believing her. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

Iris looked away. She wasn't good at lying. She never had to. She would never lie to Father and Mother always knew. Finally, she said, "Seems like forever."

"What do we do here?" the boy asked. Iris lifted her shoulders. "I've just... sat in here. Tried to avoid Mother."

"Will she kill us?"

"Oh no," she said. "I've been here ages and she hasn't killed me. But..." She thought of Father. "She might kill us. I really am not sure. Do you speak French?"

The boy's brow furrowed. "No, I'm only nine. Why?"

"I have a book in French. That's all."

The boy nodded then rubbed the goose egg on his head. "My head hurts."

Iris slid off the table and crawled to him. The boy shrank away. Iris climbed up onto the bed while the boy closed his eyes and held his breath. Iris climbed onto the bed and sat next to the boy. Cocking her head, she reached a hand out to touch the boy's head. The boy opened his eyes and slapped her hand away. "What?" Iris said.

"Don't touch me!" the boy cried. With those words, Iris remembered the rule Mother had given Iris. She pulled her hand away.

There was a noise that sounded like thunder and Iris knew what was coming. She dove off the bed and slid underneath it. The boy stayed put on it.

Mother threw open the door. "I need some quiet!" she said. The bed creaked above Iris and she knew the boy was shaking. Mother walked slowly to him.

"Don't touch me," the boy repeated, this time in a more fearful tone. Mother came closer. Iris couldn't see what happened next but there was a loud crack. The boy fell off the bed at Mother's feet.

"Get out, Iris," Mother said. Iris didn't even think about disobeying. She crawled out and stood up, back off her knees curled around the bed frame.

Mother cleared her throat. "The boy is dead. I wanted him alive longer."

"Don't hit as hard then," Iris said. Mother blinked and nodded. She rubbed her own head. "I don't..." Her voice faded out like she was confused. She bent down and picked the boy up, throwing him over her shoulder. She turned and walked out of the room. Curiously, she didn't go down the stairs but into her own room, closing the door behind her.

Iris looked down and realized she was standing in a pool of the boy's blood. She stepped out, leaving bloody footprints. She grimaced and walked tiptoe to the bathroom. She had to wash off the nameless boy's blood.

Author's Notes

Second chapter already! I still don't have a good schedule yet but I'll get there. I have a hard time writing this story if I feel like it's not being read. So if you want the story to continue on a regular basis, spread the word! :)

Thanks for reading and supporting!