It was two in the morning. The drum of sadness beat inside her until the building pressure pushed tears out, until she could only see the blur around her. She knew then she was residing in the dark place.
Erin Eileen Almond
You, Big Sister, listen close when Mom talks like that. You do this partly out of concern for Aunt Louisa, and partly because you want Mom to let you buy an electronic Monopoly game, even though we already have a regular Monopoly game which both Mom and Dad say is good enough.
She tried to understand him, would ask him over dinner what he was doing all those hours in his room. He gave terse answers out of the side of his mouth in between bites of meatloaf or green beans. YouTube. Reddit. Chatrooms. Nora pictured a big square room with soft couches and dim lighting, although she knew it wasn’t a real room.
The double-helix structure of DNA allows for replication, but yours has unwound, a single spiral staircase tapering off into a singular void. Rick refuses to uncouple, says having a genetic double is half as important as having you. You double your resolve: you’ll try and try.
She abandoned the tests on the marble vanity and the jar of night-cream under the toilet. In her slippers, no bra, hair amiss, she walked out of the house.
The child cries out, and Janet, half-asleep, dashes down the hall to the nursery before the next cry. The second round will be louder, escalating to deafening, the same pattern for three months now, night after night, like a protracted hurricane. The night terrors, they are called, and they are, for mother and child.
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