Jacob peels away the sheets of her twin-sized bed, running his fingers down the edge of the bed frame. His finger lathers in dust, and images prance in his mind of articles about how dust can lead to medical issues in young kids, but he can’t help that. The entire complex has little to no ventilation, and the windows are almost boarded shut.
A few months ago, he saw a man prowling around the first floor of their apartment building, looking through the windows. Ever since, he’s kept the blinds closed.
He swallows his guilt that her room isn’t beautiful and lively like the girls on TV. There are no posters on the walls, only pock-marks from the last owner. Her toys are all out on display because there are no funds for proper decor. Her nightstand only has a lamp that his mother bought them and some kid's books tucked inside its cabinet. Her bedsheets are the most joyful thing in the room, pastel pink argyle, and fluffy underneath. Her mattress is badly stained from growing pains, so while the washing machine in the kitchen rattles to clean her sheets and toys, Jacob is on his knees scrubbing stains from the mattress.
He ties his hair back, slick from the sweat of house cleaning. When he bends down to grab the cloth from the carpet, he notices something shining underneath the bed frame.
Jacob grits his teeth as he sticks his arm under, sweeping out random toy horses and candy wrappers swarmed with ants. He can see the shiny thing twinkle under his hands when he manages to pick it up, a small paring knife from the kitchen.
Instantly his mind goes to the worst place. If she’s hurting herself, if that guy is back again prowling around and she needs protection, if she’s harming animals, the early signs of psychopathy. If she’s cutting holes into the walls, stuffing money into cuts in her mattress, whatever insane solution to having this thing, he knew she’d do more harm than good.
The worst comes to mind.
She wants to kill him.
He’s such a terrible father that she’s planning to kill him in his sleep.
Swiftly he stands and rushes to the living room, where Maddy lies with her legs propped up, swinging back and forth. She’s set up in her scooby-doo pajamas, playing with an inflatable ball, and watching cartoons. There’s no way in Hell she did this on purpose, he doubts she even knows what death is.
“Maddy,” he begins, raising the knife just slightly for her to see. She doesn’t turn her head though, and his shaky voice grows louder. “Maddy!”
“What?!” She snaps back, rolling forward on her ball, she turns down the audio low. “What?” She says again, quieter this time.
“What is this?” He holds the knife out to her, letting it glint against the buzzing lamps as he twists it side to side. “I found it under your bed, what is this?”
In her best attempt at being a teenager, she slumps off her ball and turns towards him dramatically, flopping onto her side. When she finally looks, her face couldn’t be more nonchalant. “A knife?” Her eyebrows press together as if he’s the dumb one here.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Don’t you play dumb with me! His mind spoke over him as if a voice was booming from inside. He wouldn’t dare yell. “Under your bed, why?” She was gonna kill you!
“For protection,” Maddy replies, matter of fact, she’s now trying to curl back onto her inflatable ball as if it’s the only thing giving her comfort. The thoughts won’t stop.
Little bitch. Jacob blinks himself back to reality, crouching down beside her, his hands begin to tremble. Stab her. He sets the knife down on the table beside the couch. “Can you get off the ball for me, please?” His shoulders sink, counting to four on his breath, in, hold, out, hold. She doesn’t comply, so he switches in front of her, holding the ball still, which she despises.
“Let go of it!” She slaps the ball with her little hands, and for a second, just a second, he wonders what it would sound like to slam her head into it.
“Maddy, I need to talk to you. This isn’t safe for you to have. Nobody is going to get in the house, and if they do, I’ll protect you.”
Her eyes glance up at his, and his thoughts are starting to melt. However, they were quickly replaced with new ones. Like you could protect her. His chin began to cramp under his paranoia. She’s only with you because she has to be. She can’t kill you, she’s stuck with you.
“Mama lets me keep on under my bed at her house!” She retorts though that situation is completely different.
“Lauren, she…Lauren lets strangers into her home all the time, it’s not the same.” He sits down in front of her, crisscrossed, and clicks off the TV. “It’s…Lauren is a grown-up. She’s really smart but she’s too nice. She’s too friendly and has a lot of friends over all the time, right?”
Maddy nods, if not a little lethargic.
“And having a lot of people over means one of those people could be a bad person. But…” He draws out the last word, cupping his face in his hands, before shaking it off and lifting his head. “You only live with me, nobody is coming in who's going to harm you.”
“What about the guy on the street?”
His blood ran cold, he didn’t think she knew, when had she noticed? Can’t even protect her from a creep outside. “He won’t get in, he’s gone, he-” His nose crinkles with disgust just thinking about him. “The point is, this house is safer than your mom’s. You don’t need this and it’s dangerous for you to have that.”
Maddy stares down at the ground, lightly rolling back and forth, her soft eyelashes pointed to the floor.
“We don’t do this. We don’t take knives from the kitchen and put them under our beds.”
Maddy doesn’t reply, she merely points to his pocket. Jacob shifts to look, sticking his hand down his right side pocket and lifting it out. “This is a pocket knife. This is for when we go outside. Maddy, I-”
She’d had enough, Maddy lifted herself off the ball and headed for her room, patting down her dress, though she didn’t grab the knife back from the table. She slammed her door shut, jumping to reach the high handle, leaving him alone with his thoughts, which were swarming now.
Stab yourself, fucker.