---

She awakes in the middle of the night screaming, screaming for something that even she herself knows she can’t stop. His image is burned into her body, her heart, her brain. Every time she opens her eyes she sees his perfect image hazily in her line of view, yet it is so flawed because she is the one seeing it. Her smile would form, then relax, then falter as she saw him coming near. He’d soon take her in his arms, pushing her against the wall, a fearful grimace approaching upon her face for the first time since meeting him because of his sudden violence . . . This constant frame spools on an infinite wheel inside her head as she sleeps, bathes, eats. It is all she can think of. This same movie plays within her brain for all of her days, all except when she is with him. While he is with her, his love (though he constantly is disproving it) never falters and the movie changes, distorts into what is happening then and now, and she is forced to relive it for a second, third, and fifteenth horrifying time, even when she is not with him and the ordeal is over. She only ends it at the last part, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and not daring to open them until the dawn comes. Whether or not sleep comes she does not know, but all the girl thinks of is him. It is all that is possible, all that is true.

“I’ll tell them. I’ll them everything you did when you were such a bad little girl.”

His dark wisps of hair swayed in the spring wind as he sauntered up to her at the edge of the small pond that rested in front of his cottage home in New England. A wand accompanies the silk of the garment he is wearing, casual robes, along with the subtle, black lint of the seam that is slowly coming undone hangs out limply from his pocket. His presence in itself is inviting, though once he reaches her she knows that it will be foreboding. She was told, not asked, to meet him here at a quarter past eight o’clock this very night. This was not unusual, as of course he would need a proper hiding place to do his deed while she cried pitifully as it was done, no one hearing her terrible cries and whimpers of fear. She only wishes that someone would save her. She prays, but no one ever answers. Her call to the light is only answered by more darkness.

“You’re late.”

She turns her head in a confused motion, darting her eyes to the tree that stands erect only a few feet away from them. The sky is dark, growing still darker with each passing second. The sun slips behind a grey cloud and she sighs, stifling a chuckle. “I’m late? I was here before you were.”

“I don’t want your sass. I’ll let is slide this time.” The hatred in his voice sustained the comedy she was receiving from it. She almost thrust her head back in sarcastic laughter for how foolish he was sounding. She had beaten him here--- by a full five minutes, and she had been early. “You know why I’ve come here.”

She stared toward the sky, no longer looking at him. “I don’t believe that this relationship can go on much longer.”

There, she had said it. It felt as if a ten-thousand pound weight had been lifted off her chest, and she suddenly found breathing easier. She sucked in great gasps of air, but she soon realized that it was not because of the weight disappearing. It was because of him disappearing.

Though she knew that her life with him would never be sacred, never be truly right in its existence, she longed to meet with him. He could be nice, but only when things were going his way. That was hardly ever, unfortunately for the girl. He was a very handsome man, highly respected amongst his superiors, but once he changed out of the costume and mask he donned every day at work he turned into a supremely different being. Their relationship was challenged for it daily, though he didn’t even seem to notice. He continued living his life to the fullest, beating up his girlfriend with the utmost strength and endeavor and as if it had never been done before. As if she deserved it.

But the truth was that she did. It was either this or prison. He had told her this, informed her of it every single day for the past twelve years. They had not been together for that long, but once your entire family, all except for yourself, dies of a sickness unknown to normal people, the Muggleborns--- a curse that leaves no trace, no blood, no ideas for the police to go off on, suspicions are raised, and they are raised tall and quickly. Abigail Coventry latched onto him for help, for solace when she sought it, which now was every single second of her life. Ever since she was a ten year old she had left her family to be with him, but she had had no choice. Many a hardship had been thrust their way, and he had been there for her, he really had--- but once his work and other people got in the way of living his life to the richest means he could manage, his personality and good name became unclear.

“You know what will happen if I leave you. No, my dear,” he said softly, his eyes lazily and lusciously pecking over her curves and bare legs for the skirt she now wore, “this relationship is only beginning.”

She hadn’t always had the nightmares.

She was ten and tender in spirit, but Abigail progressed along in good health and stature. Her parents were proud of her achievements, her sisters and she played together nicely, and there was just enough farming done to make a profit and place food on the block of wood they called a kitchen table. The time had only just come where Abigail’s father could buy her and her sisters, Samantha and Hailey, the things they wanted. It had always been about what they needed, not what they wished. They could now go into a candy shop and all three pick out their own sweets instead of sharing one small piece of licorice that was so shameful it could be called plastic. Because of the sudden income of money from their surplus of good crops, Abigail’s father had hired a farmhand. The man had passed himself off as Daniel Stone, though most in the small town called him Dan for short. It was not countered, thus, Dan Stone was welcomed into the small community freely and without question. He went to church with the family, had dinner, and completed the work he was given without complaint.

Daniel Stone was a simple character. He did his chores when requested and he usually dined amid the family when an arduous day’s work was done out in the fields, allowing the family to make better acquaintance with the young man. He was seventeen, young for such a fine hired help, but he had told them that he had been working on farms ever since he was a little boy with his own father. His dad had passed away just a year before, and he had been roaming the country to find work to provide for himself. He was handsome, oh, so handsome, and Abigail had even caught a few of the neighborhood girls his age staring in through the windows at supper just to get a good look at him. They would ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ and coo over his pleasant looks, creating fantasies for how they were going to be married, have children, own a grand house by a clear blue lake where they could go boating every Saturday . . . Abigail snickered heartily when she would see them, their noses smudging the dirty windowpane while her mother just laughed and laughed. Dan found it comforting that he was being so welcomed here.

The family owned about two hundred acres, and every single bit of the land was farmed with corn, beans, wheat, barley, and a small site of strawberries had been planted for the girls near the front of the yard near the rose bushes their mother took care of. When the time came for picking the crops, many people were needed or they would not be harvested in time to eat and sell.

Daniel slept in the cabin in the backyard. He was such a nice soul and good help that he would be welcome enough in the house and sleep like a part of the family, but there just simply wasn’t enough room. He didn’t mind the cabin anyhow, and said that it reminded him of his own home and he was rather fond of it. He had brought little when he had showed up on the front doorstep looking for work; just a knapsack half-full with a piece of crusted bread, a change of clothes, and a slender object that he always kept in his back pocket. For good luck, he had later informed them.

Daniel had made a nice home here. He rather liked it, but he knew that the time to leave would be soon. The price for his head would soon reach the family whether they were Muggleborn or not. He couldn’t be caught. Not yet. Not ever.

~ * ~

“Come on Daniel, I’ve worked you enough for the day. Supper’s on the table if you’d like it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dan said, gritting his teeth and picking up a large block of wood. He carried it to the house with Mr. Coventry assisting. Daniel had always been polite and he didn’t see why he should discontinue it while he worked.

Daniel was soon at the kitchen table, passing a small basket of rolls to the girl across the table from him. She smiled and took them graciously, looking away quickly from embarrassment and plopped one onto her plate. He had yet to be able to tell apart the girls one by one, but he could always remember a lone individual particularly. Abigail. She was such a pretty, sweet little girl that he sometimes found himself staring at and not realizing it. He shook his head. He knew that she caught it, though, because she now had begun to inquire whether or not he wanted to play with her out in the garden with her dolls. He was obtaining her trust, something that wasn’t very difficult with this family, he had learned, but he had never thought he would befriend one of their girls. They would play together after all his work was done in the vicinity of their growing plants of strawberries, and they’d sneak a few if they knew that her parents weren’t looking. The warm fruit exploded into their mouths as they bit down on them, and the sweet juice usually dribbled down her chin. Daniel would wipe it away with his white sleeve, and then his mind would process and believe it was blood. He’d leave in an urgency to change and bathe, bathe away all of the impurities, though he couldn’t clean those images out of his inner body.

He began to get to understand her well, possibly even better than her own father. She was very intelligent, and knew quite a bit about their way of life. She grasped how to handle money, though she’d only had a trace to spend over her years--- she knew a great portion about business venture and funds. She was familiar with how to plant the crops and sell them. She also had just about the wildest imagination he had ever set eyes on. She could tell amazing tells of treachery, romance, and adventure, and she could produce it all instantly while they played with her dolls, sparking games of tag and hide and go seek. It was the most fun he’d ever had while staying here. It didn’t feel as if he were seventeen when he was with the girls, especially Abigail, but rather he was their age and existed as a friend they were having over to play. He’d even pull up a chair at their bed time and tell even more tales of exciting journeys, just like Abigail would, except his would be slightly darker and a bit shorter. Their mother was very fond of Daniel and she appreciated that he took the time to talk to the girls.

“Once upon a time there was a little girl that wanted a handsome man to rescue her . . .” Abigail would start as they sat in the raucous grass and dirt, Abigail’s little dress dirtying and gathering dust in only seconds as Daniel’s faded coveralls just obtained a tad more color. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear, smiling a crooked smile that had a missing front tooth as she picked up one of her stuffed toys. She vigilantly brushed its own pale hair with a finger-sized brush, made just for it, and she set it back down in a bed of sheets and pillowcases, kissing it good night though it was still bright.

“She waited days and nights for him to come, but he never did. She only had her dolls to play with, and they weren’t even hers to own. Their hair shined more vivid than hers because she brushed it so much. Her room was dirty, because her mother didn’t care about her enough to tell her to clean it. She was locked in there anyway, and she only got food from it being pushed in through the door. But she had a friend there. His name was Roger, and . . . and he was a pet mouse that she had found in a hole in one of her walls. He came out every night---” She suddenly stopped, looking at Daniel. “Hey, why are you laughin’ at me, Daniel?” she asked incredulously. She was the only one to call him that. Every one else only seemed to have the breath span of ‘Dan’, so it was what he was called. He had never been called the shorter version before, but he wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly good conversation for reprimanding his name.

“I’m not laughing, Abbie,” he told her. He was the only one to call her that. “I’m just smiling at how good your story is.”

“Oh, well . . . thanks,” she said with a toothy grin, smiling in spite of herself. She blushed furiously and picked up her doll, tucking it into the sheet again so she would have something to do while her mind blanked.

She finished the story with Roger somehow finding the latch on the window and nibbling at it with his teeth, helping the girl to escape from the deep depths of the house. She found her handsome prince waiting just down the driveway, and he carried her away on a white horse and they got married and lived happily ever after.

“The end,” she said carefully.

Daniel began to clap heartedly like an adolescent schoolboy with another smile on his face, leaning up in the dirt from where he had lain for the past thirty minutes.

“Shh!” she hissed, smiling again to allow him to know she was half-kidding, “They’re asleep!”

“Oh,” he whispered, “okay, I’ll be quieter.”

But Daniel knew that he needed to be careful--- befriending the girl was one thing, but he didn’t need suspicions raised of molestation or anything that pertained to it. That was the last thing he needed. What he needed was the job, though he had told himself that he’d have to leave by the end of the week. Once he realized this he began to push her away, always promising to play later but never meeting her in the garden like he was asked. This went on for three days, but he eventually wore down and began their usual tirade of bedtime stories and games. He didn’t want to upset her even more when he took off without a goodbye, and he knew that he couldn’t take her along for company, but he wanted to cherish the sweet company while he held it. Him taking her was completely out of the question and he didn’t even think on it for long.

No, he couldn’t. Could he?

That most certainly would raise suspicion. He couldn’t abduct the girl, undertake her in his company, and not have someone hunting after his every move.

He couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t.

~ * ~

“And you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free,” Daniel finished, placing the Bible on the end table beside the bed and smiling. He tucked the frayed and yellowed bookmark into it with clumsy fingers.

“So, it’s not good to lie, Daniel? Not ever?” asked Hailey, her eyes wide and staring as she sank deeper underneath the covers.

“No, ma’am. You should always tell the truth, no matter what. Your parents and even your sister here--- you don’t need to fib to them. They love you enough to accept whatever it is you do.”

“Is just kidding lying?”

“Well, it kind of depends. It’s just that---”

“Daniel, haven’t you read to those girls enough?” Mrs. Coventry asked him teasingly, crossing her arms as she stepped into the room and leaned on the doorframe. “Girls, it’s time for bed. Leave Dan alone, he needs rest too.”

“But we like his stories!” the three chimed together. They then all glanced at each other and burst into furious giggles.

“Please, Momma, just one more story?”

“Yeah, please?”

Daniel shrugged his shoulders, indicating he didn’t mind. Mrs. Coventry gave him an affectionate smile.

“Girls, it’s almost eleven o’clock! You’re going to be very tired in the morning, and Dan has to work in the fields with your father. Go on to sleep now.”

They frowned, casting a saddened look at Dan, then all jumped up from their lying positions and threw their arms around the man’s neck.

“Good night, Dan.”

“Yeah, sleep tight!

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

They all giggled again while Dan gave them all a small embrace, tucking them in and saying another round of good nights. He stepped out of the room with their mother and turned off the lamps, shutting the door to the girls and leaving them in total darkness.

“I want to thank you for what you do, Dan,” she told him graciously. She looked to the floor, then back up at him. “The girls don’t have many friends--- they only have each other, which is enough I think, but I’ve seen that they really enjoy your company.”

“It’s no problem at all, ma’am,” he told her comfortably, “I rather enjoy it.”

“Well, you go on and get you some sleep now. I know that their father will want you up early again.”

“Thank you.”

She walked him to the front porch, giving him a quick embrace, a warm piece of cornbread, and a glass of milk to take with him to bed. As he departed, she stayed at the screen porch, a warm smile coming upon her face as she watched him disappear into his own cabin.

“And you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”

Daniel didn’t practice what he preached.

~ * ~

Daniel treaded inaudibly away from his cabin, taking careful concern not to step on the creaking board that rested beneath the doorframe as he walked out. That could be heard from a mile away, it seemed, in the dead of night. He unhooked the small latch and stepped out in his work boots and aged overalls. His things were packed and set right outside the door, along with a snack or two he had saved up from the past couple of meals. He rolled it up cautiously inside a dirty handkerchief and placed it deep within his petite rucksack so it wouldn’t smother. He returned the door's latch to its original position with the work of his fingers and devoid of any sound as he traveled up to the house.

This family was rich. He had seen their nice things. There was bound to be some money somewhere. He had thought about it long and hard, and the solution to where they hid it could have been on the top of the refrigerator. In this small town, no one has safety deposit boxes or stored their money in banks. It could be deep within a floorboard, which would be just his luck if it were, because he would never find it, but he would just have to wait and see. The kitchen was right inside the door, so that would be his first stop anyhow. It was definitely a safe and practical place for them to hide it, but he wasn’t certain by any means. He just required a few dollars in cash and he could get out of this town. It would serve him well and he now knew a thing or two more about money from Abigail. That child was much smarter than she looked.

He pushed a screwdriver into the mesh wiring over their screen door and pressed firmly with the palm of his hand, causing the netting to break and for him to be able to put his hand inside the home, unlocking the screen and allowing himself in. Daniel had made a messy job of the netting, so he just pushed it back into place, though it was very apparent that something had been forced through. He walked carefully, however, if someone awoke he knew what he would have to do. A black and slender object rested in his back pocket, and one hand relaxed on his backside just in case something sprung out at him swiftly.

He suddenly stepped on a creak in the floor.

“Shit,” he murmured, causing tingles to go down his spine. He prayed silently and quick lips that no one had been alerted. After waiting there and not moving, off balance and listening to his terrified heart going off erratically for what felt like ten minutes, he took another step.

Should have taken off my shoes, he thought as he hit the groan again, releasing the pressure on the floorboards when he took the other step. He cringed, fastening his eyes tightly as the not-so-massive sound penetrated the still, night air. It was incredible how deafening things could be when you were trying to be silent, though in the middle of the day, among all the bustle and excitement, you wouldn’t even have known that the creak had existed. He stood motionless, taking note, once he reached the fridge. He lifted up a hand, but he realized that he heard the steady rhythm of breathing behind him.

He spun around quickly, knocking a finger into the countertop that would have sent any normal man cursing while his hand throbbed, but he was too transfixed on the other being in the room to do anything but stand there.

“Dan? Dan, is that you? Show yourself! I have a weapon and I---”

“Uh, yes, yes sir, it’s Daniel, sir.” He would play it off some other way. He really didn’t want to hurt this family, he really, truly didn’t, but if the time came then he surely would.

“Gee-sus, you sure did scare me, kid. Thought it was those burglars I’d been hearing about over in the next town. What are you doing up at this time of night?” Daniel saw that he lowered his rifle to the floor, only holding it by the barrel, impeded and unprepared if Daniel should decide to attack.

“Oh, sir, I didn’t know if I was allowed or not, but I was a bit hungry so I . . . I thought it’d be all right if I came in here a grabbed a bite to eat.”

“Didn’t get much supper, did you? Well, now, we can’t have that. Come on over here and I’ll help you out.” He crossed the kitchen, his eyes engrossed with Daniel’s tall figure. “We have some leftover pot roast that Sally made for supper, and then some cornbread that I was going to give to the dogs, but it’s yours if you want it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.”

“Say, what’s that you have in your back pocket?”

Daniel’s heart froze.

“Oh, I just had my hands in my pocket,” he said, finally taking the hand that he didn’t know had been there from behind him. “Getting a bit chilly out there.”

“Sure is.”

Silence commenced for the next few seconds while Mr. Coventry wrapped the food within a small cloth and handed it to Daniel. Daniel still stood there even seconds after he had been handed the food. He didn’t know what to do--- he knew that Mr. Coventry wouldn’t just leave him here and now--- he’d have to break back into the house, and then he would know that something was up if he was caught for a second time. He rubbed his eyes and stood taller.

Mr. Coventry’s eyes drifted to the door. “I guess that we’ll see you in the morning then. I’m thinking about sleeping in a bit tomorrow, today really hurt my back . . .” He paused, wiping the crumbs off the table. When Dan just nodded, he spoke again. “Guess I’ll see you out then. Good night, Dan.”

The other man strolled to the door, but he stopped instantly, his eyes mesmerized by something on the flap.

Don’t see it. For God’s sake . . . Daniel silently prayed, though in his mind his taste for blood drove him into changing his mindset. Look to that door, Coventry, it spoke silently, Just look toward that door and watch while I . . .

Mr. Coventry stared at the door as if it were something unfamiliar, then he stood on tiptoes over Daniel to look more intently. This all happened in the span of a few seconds, though to Daniel it felt as if it were a few hours.

“Dan, that door . . .” His eyes wandered over to Daniel, his eyes wide and fearful. He was too scared to even bat an eyelash. “Is it busted?”

Mr. Coventry suddenly seemed to glimpse Dan for the first time. The barrel of the shotgun he held was thrown into the air to better be able to grasp, but the man had been delayed. The second his finger was on the trigger a flash of brilliant green color exploded forth from the wand in Daniel’s hand, sending the shotgun clattering to the floor without a shot to detonate as it hit the wood. The man holding the firearm stayed suspended in the air for a few moments, but he soon fell to the floor with a nauseating thud.

Daniel’s eyes faded back to their normal grey color from that sudden flash of light. His pupils diminished back to their normal size and he turned around to the hallway leading down to the bedrooms. He perceived soft, padding footsteps, indicating that someone with bare feet was slowly rushing toward the very room he was in.

He braced himself, his sweaty palm holding the wand in his right hand to better be able to aim. He took one final glance at the body in front of him and stared into the dark depths of the hallway.

Someone was approaching.