Speaker 1: Hello, I'm welcome's stories all the time. Glad you are here.
Let's get into it. Dotty Alexander lurched forward as her
social work events the van over the curb. The social
worker Halle pulled into the Stansfield's driveway at two hundred
seventeen Perckback Road, having to break too hard and lurching
Dotty forward again. Dotty didn't think she would ever get
used to riding in cows, although after observing other vehicles
in the roads for the last four months, she wondered
if she might have a better experience riding with someone
other than Hallie. Neither of her previous two foster families
had driven her anywhere. They were both justifiably nervous about
introducing her to the modern world. Hallie had warned them
about Dotty's prior reactions to simple things such as cars,
cell phones, and cameras. We just want to help you
get more adjusted first, our previous guardians, had invariably said. Dotty,
inevitably perturbed both couples, who also had children of their own,
leading them both to ask Calli to find a new placement.
The Stansfields would be her third foster family, as she
did not expect them to be her last She knew
Holly did not believe her when she said she was
trying to fit in, But how could she expect to
fit in when all she had known for fourteen years
was hard work, discipline, and servitude toward a higher power,
and all these people knew was the pursuit of ease
and pleasure. Her entire life, Dotty had been raised to
see those types of people as less of vermin Ona,
consuming God's wonderful bounty and corrupting his beautiful planet. She
was beginning to understand that was wrong, because she had
also seen how kind an understanding these people could be.
But now it was they who seemed unable to see
the wonderful facets of her Oops almost missed the driveway there.
Halle chuckled. Her eyelashes were too long, and for some reason,
she didn't have eyebrows, so she painted them on instead.
Hallie was plagued by the sin of gluttony, but Dotty
now understood that was not considered a sin in this
new world. She saw many people proudly displaying the burden
of its consequences. Ali said, well, here we go. These
people are very nice. They are all very nice, aren't
they asked Dotty. Hallie gave her a forgiven smile. She
recognized Dotty's particularly dry brand of sakers. The stance Fields
opened their door and greeted Dotty in a quaint Midwestern
manner that she genuinely appreciated. I'm Bill, and missus Patrick,
the father said, planting his hands on his six or
seven year old son's shoulders, the mother's head, and Monica,
you must be Dotty. She extended her hand, but awkwardly
retracted it when Dotty curts it instead, finding the lacey
hem of her dress outward. The rest of the hand
off Weddy Colia is awkward, but Dotty still thought she
liked the stands Fields very much. Holly made sure Dotty
was settled, while Bill retrieved her single suit case of belongings,
namely to reduplicates of the dress she was currently wearing
and a few pieces of everything she needed to wear
beneath it. The Stancefields lived in an immaculate house. A
cving stack is led from the entry rich an exposed
hallway above two doors visible from the ground level beneath
the banister. Another doorway, this one empty, led to a
sunlit living room with an open kitchen to one side,
separated only by gorgeous brick fireplace and chimney. The carpet
and upholstery were all white. In the coffee table made
of glass, the only color in the room came from
the leaves of two broader leaf plants in the back.
With the sunlight pouring in through the back patty r door,
the room was almost blinding, but Dotty loved it. The
upstairs bedroom designated for her also hit white carpet, a
white bed frame, and white curtains, but her sheets were
dark blue, matching the walls. Hers was one of the
rooms at the top of the stairs. The one on
the left to the right was the upstairs bathroom, and
down the hole were Patrick's and Bill and Monica's rooms.
A short time after how he left, Patrick opened his
bedroom door and an orange blow nearly knocked his feet
out from under him. The blow street down the stairs,
thudding without caution to the bottom, where Dotty was just
picking up a suitkeise to carry it upstairs. She screamed, Hey,
what wrong? Monica asked, hustling through the doorway under the banister,
wearing an apron. This is an animal. Doughty whimpered, what
is it that area? Patrick cheerfully announced from above, he
named it? Dotty asked. She noticed a faint smile pulling
at Monica's lips before the mother turned away slightly. She
regained control of her features and turned back to Dotty,
implementing a kind smile and soft eyes. Doarty, have you
ever seen a cap before? A cat like a lion?
Dotty asked. This time, Monica made no effort to hide
he laughter, but Dotty did not feel insulted by it.
Her laugh contained too much joy to be offensive. Before
she realized it, Dotty started thatving along with her. I'm sorry,
I'm not making fun of you, Monica said, it's just well,
there's obviously a lot for you to learn. Dotty looked away.
I'm sorry, No, please don't apologize, Monic said, I'm sorry.
I guess I just didn't realize. Did they not have
any cats at the arm the colt, Dotty asked. Both
Monica and Patrick suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Sorry, Is that
a bad word? I keep hearing people say it when
they talk about my home? She lived in a cult.
Patrick ass bent at the hips over the banister. No,
it's not a bad word at all, Monnic said, and Patrick,
I'll let Dotty tell you about where she grew up
when she's ready. Okay, for now, let's get back to
this cat thing. Ariet a cat had started weaving in
and out of Dotty's legs under her us. She looked
visibly uncomfortable, but something deep down told Monica to let
her be, let her adjust. She had almost immediately recognized
a buried strength and resilience behind Dotty's eyes when she arrived.
Dotty asked, so what is a cap for? We aren't
going to eat it, are we? No way, she's my pet.
Patrick explained That means we play together and she keeps
me company and at night. She he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
You keep an animal in your home for company, Doddy asked.
In return, Monica asked, have you ever had a pet before?
We only use animals for food, clothes, and work at home.
Dotty said, I've never heard of anyone caring for an
animal for pleasure. It can be a lot of work,
but it's fun, Hatrick assured her. Monica hid another smirk.
She guessed her son's idea of a lot of work
would pay in comparison to Dotty's. Dotty collected her skirt
around her knees and stooped to observe the dosal animal.
Arier took three cautious steps backward. She'll let you pet
her if you want, said Patrick. Dotty held out one hand,
hovering it in front of Airy's face. He sniff at
Dotty's fingers, then nuzzled her head into Dotty's pump. Dotty
smiled so broadly her jaw almost fell off. She ran
her hand down Aria's back all the way down her tail,
then started again with her other hand on Aria's neck.
The cap began to purr and rubbed against Dotty's shins.
In the back of the house, a door slid hut,
and Bill's cheery voice declared burgher's already. Dotty thought she
was going to like staying with the Stansfields. Phila and
Monica really made her feel like a part of the
family instead of a guest at the dinner table. They
made her feel so comfortable that when Patrick started asking
questions about her home, she felt not only willing but
excited to answer. We didn't have any screens or internet,
she said, pronouncing internet the way she heard it when
people said every morning, Mirror would give us a message.
Then I spent most of my day doing chores like
laundry and tending the gardens, are caring for the animals,
and in the time left at the end of the day,
I read Who's Mirror, asked Patrick, Marror Walker was our leader,
a prophet from God sent to show us how to
live a holy life. But what Patrick has? Monica quickly
changed the subject. What kind of books do you like?
You are welcome to see what we have, or I
can pick up some at the library, she offered. Dorty replied,
I'm sorry books. What kind of books do you like
to read? Monica repeated, oh uhm, my favorite is probably Matthew.
I love the poems and psalms, though, and I memorize
most of proverbs. Dotty said, Bill, have you ever read
something besides the Bible? Dotty wrung her hands. No, I know.
I'd never seen another book until after they took me away.
Who took you away, Patrick asked, Monica said, the police, Honey.
The people Dotty used to live with had to go
to jail, so that's why she's staying with us. Why.
Patrick asked, how about We talk about that another time,
Bill said, smiling in distance with his imperative tone. In
the meantime, Monica, get this girl some Harry potterstat and
while you're at it, well, Dotty, I should probably ask
you first, would you like some more? Ah, modern clothes
were about the same size, said Monica. You're welcome to
try on a few of my things. Dotty had, denighing
the comfortable looking shirt Monica was wearing a cratch. She
homed dresses were all she'd ever known, and the previous
family she had stayed with never pressed her to try
anything else. She was already over the shock of seeing
women wearing pants, some so tight you could see the
outline of their buttocks. Dotty had no desire to display
her rear end she could not comprehend why any one would,
but she thought some of the bagger pants she had
soon looked both practical and comfortable, which she here to
remind herself, did not make them simful. Yes, she said,
allowing the faintest of smiles to graze her lips. I'd
like that very much, But please, could you tell me
what is a Harry Potter? The first clothing Dotty borrowed
from Monica was a set of faux salt pajamas. She
had already grown somewhat accustomed to soft mattresses and plush
a blankets modern people used. She felt like she was
drowning in them for the first few nights away from home,
but on her first night at the Stansfields she found
a bit comfortable in inviting, and the pajamas added an
extra layer of comfort. She drifted off with relative ease.
In the middle of the night, Dotty awoke to a
commotion she and her foggy state could not immediately make
sense of. Etho vibrated her door, which she kept a
jar in the way she had been required to in
her previous life, and caused it to swing open. A
dark shape lowed to the ground, darted to the door,
aimed at her bed. Before she could sit all the
way up, the dark shape pounced on to the matters
right next to her leg, then lapped at her, landing
on her chest. She uttered a small street before realizing
the dark shape was only airy of the cat. But
her fright was never given a chance to settle, because
down the hall she heard Patrick's scream. A visitor in
a strange house Dotty waited and observed in silence. The
whollway light turned on, and some one went into Patrick's room.
Dotty heard Monica's soothing voice. She did not sound alarmed,
so Dotty decided not to be either. She waited for
the next expected sound they called totskin of Monica's pomp
snapping against Patrick's soft, warm cheek, but it never came.
Dotty reminded herself that children were cuddled in this new world,
know not coddled. She reminded herself also that she needed
to reframe her views of punishment, because she rather liked
the modern version of parents as keg of hers. Educators
and yes, disciplinarians were necessary, but always with smart and
relevant punishments, not senseless beatings. Even when Patrick yelled something
Dotty could not decipher, Monica did not raise her own voice.
Fisteps proceeded a long shadow in the hall. Doty knew
it must be Bill coming to check out her open
door and perhaps find out where Aero went. Ah, he said,
filling her doorway. I wondered if he woke you up.
Actually it was her, Dotty said, transplanting Aera from her
lap to the floor. The cat patted out of the room.
Bill said, well, sorry about that. On. Don't worry about Patrick.
He gets these night terrors, I guess you call them.
He thinks he sees monsters, you know, like a lot
of kids. Dotty flashed to her memory of her best
friend being held down by her mother and father as
Mora Walker performed and exorcism on her. The reason for
this display was due entirely to the girl claiming to
have seen a monster climbing out from beneath her bed.
The girl's claim was immediately prosecuted as a symptom of
demonic possession. Mister ahm, please just call me Bill, okay,
Bills Patrick. I'm not really sure if it means the
same to you. But is he pure of heart? Bill
looked down the halt and said, uh, he's a good kid.
Not sure if that's what you mean, though, essentially. Dotty replied,
but is there any chance that evil spirits might be
interested in him? Straight to evil spirits? Huh they'll echoed,
clucking dismissively. No, Dotty, there's no such thing as evil
spirits or monsters for that matter. I'm sure you've been
taught otherwise, But it's okay, said, Dotty, I'm so realizing
just how much of what I was raised to believe
is false. Bill said, must be tough. All right, Well,
good night then, but before he completely shut the door,
he paused and pushed it back open, heap at the
inside of his cheek and thought, then carefully said, Hey,
this thing with Patrick, could you please just let Monica
and I handle it on our own. We have a
bit of a strategy we've been working with, and we've
seen some good progress here and there. I'd really like
to keep the momentum going. You know, it's nothing personal.
It's just I think it would be better if you
didn't discuss this topic. Was Patrick okay, I understand, Dotty
replied she did understand. She'd had the same conversation using
different words with two sets of foster parents already. Hey,
we really love having you, but please don't interfere with
our family dynamic. We are perfectly happy as we are.
Thank you, Bill said, thanks, and shut the door. The
following morning, every one behaved as if nothing had happened,
which informed Dotty that Patrick's midnight upburst was a common occurrence.
All day, Dotty watched him for signs of spiritual corruption,
but she detected none, not that she was an expert
on corruption. Not like Marra Walker, prophet leader of the
Moravian Christians, he was able to suss out some one
with the demonic attachment before the even displayed harmful symptoms.
Dotty always believed in his gift as an asset from God. However,
throughout her second day with the Stunsfields, she began to
think more about Marr's exos and realized he never sent
women away from the group, only men. Specifically, Dotty could
only recall him banishing married men. He always provided for
their wives by taking them into his own home. She
had been living in Moore's constructed world, seeing everything through
his framing. Now outside she realized what might have actually
been going on. The Stunsfields did what no other family
had done for her yet, and took her out in public.
Both parents had taken the week off to help Dotty
settle in. They only went an apple orchard, but still
there were modern people walking around, driving trucks and tractors,
eating snacks from the little shop. Unbeknownst to Bill and Monica,
tending the fruit trees was one of Dotty's shoes back
home when she shared this with them. Bill recoiled and
Monica put a loving hand on her shoulder. She sounded
like she might cry as she said, we thought it
would just be a fun way to get out without
being around too many people, and so sorry, we didn't
mean to trigger any bad memories. No, just the opposite.
Dotty assured her, it reminds me of the good pass
of home. Bill recovered and said, well, here's to making
new memories. Back at the house, Monaka listed Patrick and
Dotty's help in baking some of the apples into her crisp.
She was impressed, albeit slightly uncomfortable, with Dotty's baking knowledge
and skills. She guessed the girl had been trained in
the kitchen her entire life. Take the crisp and enjoyed
his after dinner while watching to a story. It was
only the second movie Dotty had ever seen, having watched
The Lion King at another home, and Bill insisted she
must see it immediately. The day ended on this happy note,
and everyone went to their rooms in good moods. Doarty
sat on her bed reading the first pages of Harry
Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone with the door cracked open.
As always, it took her a few minutes to shed
the guilt she felt for reading words written for no
purpose other than enjoyment. But once she had programmed herself,
she found the book quite enjoyable. She heard Patrick leave
his room and go to the bathroom the next door.
After he washed his hands, he opened the bathroom door,
flooding the hallway with yellow light. Doughty could see his
shadow crossed the floor as he stood in the bathroom doorway.
Over ten seconds passed without Patrick turning off the bathroom
light or making any movement whatsoever. Dotty closed her book
and went to check on him. She found him staring
at his dark bedroom down the hall, with his back
to her, so he did not notice her approach. Padrick,
she whispered. He flinched and turned round. She saw he
had either been crying or perhaps was about to start
poff redness and circled his eyes. Whispering. She asked, what's wrong?
His chest heaved before he said, I don't want to
go back to my room. If I fall asleep in there,
the nightmare monsters are going to come out. Nightmare monsters.
Is that what you were screaming last night? Dotty asked, yeah,
I always see them when I wake up at night.
Sometimes I try to just stay awake, but I always
fall asleep. Then they come Dotty's forehead an arm, but
suddenly felt swetty. She recalled Bill's entreaty to her not
to discuss the thing with Patrick with Patrick and to
let his parents handle it. But Bill and Monica were
closed up in their room and Patrick was standing right
in front of her with tears in his eyes. What
was she supposed to do? Patrick continued. They start in
my head, then they come into my good dreams and
turn them into nightmares, and when I wake up they
are here. Oh this is serious. Doughty thought he needs
spiritual protection, but his parents don't believe in it. What
do the monsters do, then, she asked, keeping her voice
as low as humanly possible. They move really slowly when
they are not in my dreams, said Patrick. I always
try to run him on before they can get me.
Sometimes they blocked the door, so I have to scream,
like last night. He looked down, ashamed and said, sorry
if I woke you up. Dotty got down on one knee,
eye to eye with the boy. She placed her hands
in the sides of his shoulders, looked into his eyes,
then drew him in for hug. She whispered in his ear,
I believe you, and Patrick hugged her back. He pushed
off of her after a few seconds and said, I
have an idea, but can you come with me? Okay,
but let's be quiet in case your parents are already sleeping.
Dotty said, really, just not want him Bill and Monica
to know she had involved herself in the thing with Patrick.
He led her down the hall to his room. She
turned on the light for him as he hurried over
to a large chest next to his closet. After digging
a run for over a minute, he finally pulled out
a strange looking phone. Of course, all phones looked strange
to Dotty, but this one in particular was unlike any
she had seen. Yet. After a little more digging, Patrick
pulled a matching device out and closed the chest. These
are cold walkie talkies. Do you know what those are?
Walkie talkies? Dotty? He repeated. She might have laughed at
the silly name if she hadn't been so afraid of
catching Bill and Monica's attention. Patrick said, yeah, I know
it sounds some, but they are really cool. We can
use them to talk to each other. See like this,
He turned a small dial at the top of both devices,
and a red power light lit upon each. An evil
screech came out of both of them. Dotty quickly closed
the door, stopping before it latched. Whoops, Patrick said, moving
the devices away from each other. As soon as they
were separated, the screeching stopped. Here. He handed a walkie
to Dotty, who put it to her ear the way
she had observed people talking on cell phones. No. No,
you hold it in front of your mouth like this,
he demonstrated. When you want to talk, you push the
button and just talk. Just make sure you let go
when you're done, because otherwise my voice won't go through her.
Dotty pressed the button indicated by Patrick, raised the walkie
to her lips and asked, can you hear me? She
heard her own voice come from the walkie in Patrick's hand,
rough and full of static, and grinned. Well, she said,
pretty cool, right, you take that one to your room
and I'll keep this one here. That way I can
talk to you. But why can't we just talk like this?
Dotty asked, Oh, Sir Patrick, I meant if the nightmare
monsters come, I can call you to come help me.
Oh and one more thing. He went to his bed,
stuck a hand beneath his pillow, and pulled out an
unused glow stick. I always keep a few of these
under my pillow because the monsters can turn off the lights.
It's really scary anyway. If you need to use this,
you just bend it like you're going to break it.
It'll make a bunch of awesome cracking sounds. Then it'll glow.
They're super bright. Here you go, He gave her the
glow stick. Dotty dropped to her knee again to give
him a compassionate look. She said, Patrick, I think you
need to talk to your parents about this. Your dad
told me they'll never believe me. He interrupted, I've told
them over and over again that the monsters are real,
but they won't listen. I'm pretty sure mammy even saw
them once. Dotty stared at the walky talk in her hand.
Accepting it also meant accepting partial responsibility for patrick safety
and full responsibility for disobeying her foster pearance. She could
be putting herself on the fast track to another home,
and she liked living with the stance fields, but still
looking into Patrick's fleeting eyes, she could not turn him down.
She helped him saddle into bed, then returned to her
room walkie talkie in hand. The same thought against her door,
which had awoken her the first night, did so the second.
This time, Dotty anticipated aarry jumping on her bed and
moved out of the cat's way. She listened carefully to
the silence, searching for any slight disturbance which might indicate
happenings down the hall. She heard nothing coming from down
the hall, but the walky talkie next to her bed
was to a life, startling her. The static crackled and
his masking any words being spoken. Dotty picked it up
and turned the volume dial back in order to listen
for Patrick's voice through the walls. She could not tell
whether he was trying to speak to her or not,
but even with the volume down, listening for her foster
brother with her naked ear, Dotty did not hear him.
At a break in the transmission, Dotty depressed the talk
button and put the device to her lips. Patrick, is
that you? She asked. Silence lying heard for five six
seven seconds before the walkie crackled to life again. This
time Dotty heard breathing coming through, long rattling breaths which
sounded much too deep to belong to little Patrick. She
slipped off of the bed, looking back to see if
Ara would follow her. Airry Estate put nested in the
warm cover as Dotty left behind car, clearly wanted nothing
to do with whatever was happening down the hall. Dotty
treaded to her door and peeked out at Patrick's, which
was closed. Midwi through breath, her walkie stopped transmitting and
silence returned. Now standing in the hallway, Dotty raised again
and asked, Patrick, are you awake? Through his door, she
heard herself echo faintly. It sounded like Patrick had turned
his volume up quite high. Hearing her echo also made
a thing She should definitely be able to hear Patrick's
voice through his door if he really was trying to
talk to her. Her walkie hissed again and she heard
more deep breathing coming through. This time it proceeded a
harsh whispering voice which said he still sleeping. Dropping the
device in alarm, Dotty ran to Patrick's door. She turned
the knob but found it locked. Why would he lock
his door if he wanted me to come help him.
Dotty wondered this question was just one of a dozen
which raised through her mind, like frames of a film
strip blurring into a single image. In this case, instead
of an image, her thoughts and questions amalgamated into a
single imperative. We Patrick up, Patrick, Patrick, Dotty yelled, slapping
her palm on his door. She had disturbances in Bill
and Monica's bedroom as they were startled wake. However, she
could not hear any sounds coming from Patrick's She yelled
for him again. What's going on? Monica asked, emerging from
her room, still tying her robe shut. There's some one
in there with Patrick. I heard him talking, Dotty explained.
Move move, Bill ordered, ushering her aside with firm hands
on her upper arms. Patrick or you wake, He asked Patrick.
Can you hear me? His door is locked, said dotty.
Bill immediately tried to knob to confirm this. Bill he
would never lock that door, said Monica. I know, Um,
do you have your phone now? Can you go get it?
I want somebody ready to call nine hundred eleven. What's that,
Dotty asked, not now, Bill replied. He flattened his ear
against the door to listen for any sounds from within.
He said, somebody's in there, he asked urgently. Dotty nodded,
how do you know. Dotty assured him the walkie talkie
and said he gave me this and somebody talked to
me through it. That's it, said Bill. He rammed his
shoulder into the door. It barely rattled. Bill stepped back,
raised his right foot in the air, and kicked forward,
connecting right beside the door knob. There was a dry
splitting sound, but the door remained standing. Patrick answered me.
Bill yelt before his next kick. This time the knob
bent inward. It returned to its normal position as the
door settled back in plays, but Bill quickly followed up
with a third kick, which broke the wood around the knob.
The door slammed against the stop inside Patrick's room, He's
not here, billyel to Monica, who had just returned with
her phone in hand. She he asked, what okay, I'm
calling Patrick, Billy yelled. He yanked the covers off of
the boy's bed, revealing an empty mattress. Dotty shrunk back,
terrified and unsure where she fit in the situation. Monica
vhone raised to her or said check unto the bed
Bill and trotted over to Patrick's closet. Yes, hello, I'm
at two hundred and seventeen Brickwick Road. We can't find
my son. He's seven and oh my god. Monica had
just opened Patrick's closet. Oh my god, he's here. I
found him. It's okay. No, we don't need you to
send anybody. I'm so sorry. Yes, yes it is. Thank you. Goodbye.
Monica Lowe with the phone and embraced Patrick, who she
had found standing in his closet with his back to
the door. Even as she hugged him, the boy stood
completely still, facing away from them. All. Hey, could you
maybe go back to your room, Bill asked Dotty. What
about the voice I heard? Dotty asked, I'm sure we'll
find an explanation, but for now, please just go back
to bed. Is he going to be okay? Bill started
to sound for straded now, yes, Dotty, he'll be fine.
Do you remember what I said to you last night
about letting Monica and a handle This now would be
the time this final night sprung tears into Dotty's eyes.
She turned away before Bill would notice him return to
her room without another word. Dotty slept in the next morning,
having not been able to return to sleep quickly the
night before. She noticed Patrick's staring at her, clearly wanting
to tell her something, but Bill or Monica was always
close by light they were guarding him. Finally, there came
a moment in the kitchen, just after Bill left to
pick up everything he needed to repay Patrick's door. When
Monica received a phone call, she excused herself to take
the call outside in the porch. Please tell me what
happened last night, Dotty finally begged. Patchrick's eyes drifted over
her shoulder to the patio door. Deciding it was safe
to talk, he whispered, they almost got me that time.
For some reason, I kept dreaming until if mom didn't
open that closet. I heard it, Dotty said. I heard
its voice and the walky thing ye gave me when
I tried to call you. It said, he's still sleeping. Dotty,
I'm really scared. I know, I'm trying to decide what
to do next. I don't think your parents, she paused,
Sure she had just heard her name through the kitchen window,
which had been left open a crack. Monica must not
have noticed. She was standing right below the window, speaking
into her phone a conversational volume. Dotty's knuck over to listen. No,
it's not that we don't like her. In fact, we
really do. It's just I'm worried about how Patrick is
adjusting his night terrors have been off the shot since
Dotty got here. No, I understand. But also she's been
trying to undermine us, and I'm not being paranoid. She's
convinced that Patrick is like haunted or something, but then
he's screaming or locked in his closet, and does she
come get us. No, she just talks to him behind
our backs afterward and plays into his delusions. I don't know, Halley,
it just might not be good for Patrick to have
her ear. Dotty stepped back shot to hear these infair
and exaggerated accusations leveled against her. It challenged her entire
idea of who she was, which was already quite mallable
due to her upbringing, which heavily discouraged personal identity. Bill
and Monica s eventually ignored the children for the rest
of the day. Bill spent most of the afternoon working
on the door, and Monic sequsted herself in various rooms
throughout the house, in a manner which suggested she was
intentionally avoiding Dotty. She kept Patrick with her much of
the time as well. If Bill wasn't working on the
door and Monica wasn't with Patrick, the two of them
would hide themselves away for private discussions. Dotty spent most
of the day reading Harry Potter, reaching a third book
in the series, The Saucerer's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets,
turned out to be much lighter reading than Ezekil and Leviticus,
which allowed her to consume them effortlessly. That night, Dotty
went to bed were she feared what would happen if
Patrick was attacked again. She now knew Bill and Monica
held contradictory expectations for her and could not decide how
to handle them. On one hand, Monica complained about her
attempts to understand Patrick's affliction and help him through the
best way she knew how, but on the other she
was disappointed in Dotty's lack of action. So which was
it was she supposed to help were stay out? And
what if Bill and Monnica were on What if Patrick's
life really was being threatened by creatures that emerged from
his nightmares. Wrestling with this confusion tired her, and after
some time sweating on top of the sheets, she got
up and went to her bedroom door. She held the
knob in her hand, twisting the lock back and forth
between her thumb and index finger. She thought about how
her missus Fincher's in the middle of the night always
began with the cat running and and waking her up.
Maybe it was time to try sleeping with the door closed.
She shut it gently so as not to be heard
down the hall. She pinched the lock, has tit it,
then turned it, determined to sleep through the night to
keep herself out of the situation with Patrick and hopefully
work her way back into favor with Bill and Monica
before they had her removed, Dotty went back to bed.
This time she was awoken by a needy scratching at
her door. This faint sound did not have the same
startling effect as the cat darting in and jumping on
the bed, so Dotty woke slowly. At first, she forgot
where she was. She had just woken from a dream
about home and expected to see the plane brown walls
of her old room when she opened her eyes. Instead,
she saw the blue walls of her room at the Stansfields,
which looked pitch black at night. Airy scratched at the
door again, and Dotty came fully into the present. She
heard the cat mewing outside her door, and, fearing she
might wake the rest of the family, rose to let
her in. When Dotty opened the door, Airy's back was arched,
her tail stiff, and her first standing on end. Dotty
crouched next to her and peed her into silence, then
listened for any sounds coming from down the hall. She
heard only one faint sniffle, and that only barely. She
picked ear up and treaded carefully toward Patrick's door. The
closer she got, she could hear more sounds of his crying.
He whimpered and sniffled, breaking Dotty's heart. She thought she
had felt alone, but now she imagined the feeling of
isolation Patrick must have been experiencing, and could no longer
pity herself. She knocked gently on his door, which was
somehow closed, despite air escaping through it. She whispered to Patrick,
and the whimpering ceased. Hold on his small voice replied,
Dotty heard a sheet's rustle, then the soft thud of
his feet hitting the ground. He padded over to the door.
Dotty heard the door in a brattle when he growled
it but before Patrick could open the door, he screamed.
Dotty dropped earriyer and tried to open the door herself,
but in his terror, Patrick had fallen against it. She
couldn't push it open. Patrick, get out of there, she yelled.
Based on his screams, she knew he had slid down
the door all the way to the floor. She could
picture him culled up and a ball. There was some
dock then crawled out of his closet. Bill Monica, Dotty screamed,
now turning to bang on their bedroom door. Maybe she
thought Bill would be strong enough to push his way in.
She didn't care if they would send her away any more.
Her only concern was for Patrick. Harry began scratching at
Patrick's door, and Dotty returned her attention. There. Please, Patrick,
you have to move, she yelled. The master bedroom door opened.
Bill and Monica, both in bathrobes, emerged. Move out of
my way, Bill bellowed. He shoved Dotty so hard her
back hid the wall behind her. He shouted Patrick's name
as he tried to open the door. His initial attempt
failed against Patrick's weight, but he planted his shoulder into
the nearly repaired door, brace his beffeet in the carpet,
and shoved. The door opened slowly as Bill pushed Patrick
out of the way. Arius scurried away, and Dotty tried
to peer inside to catch a glimpse of the terrible
monsters which had plagued our foster brother. So Dotty step
over here, out of the way, Monnic instructed. She gestured
to the space in front of herself, and Dotty moved
into it. Bill reached them through the opening he managed
to create. He grabbed Patrick's pajama shirt and pulled him
sideways until he had moved him enough to open the
door the rest of the way. It was too dark
inside for Dotty to see anything. Patrick's neck light had
gone out got him. Bill grunted, heaving Patrick up into
his arms. Dotty felt relieved, but only for less than
a second. For no sooner had Bill stepped away from
Patrick's room, embracing the scare child, than Monica scheve Dotty forward,
sending her tumbling into the darkness without a word. Monic
slammed the door shut. No help, Dotty cried, throwing herself
into the door. Her hand searched and located the door knob.
It wouldn't turn. Horrified, Dotty realized Bill had replaced the
door knob with one which flopped on the outside, and
for some reason, Monica had locked her in. She yell,
what are you doing? Why? Why? Please help me? A
crackle of static sanded behind her as she turned. All
she could see of the walkie talkie on Patrick's night
stent was its red pow light. The static us louder
and louder until the device reached its full volume. Dotty
shrunk down against the bottom of the door, just as
Patrick had. They had traded places, but more damningly, had
traded fates. Dotty's trained helplessness held her in place, even
as she began to sense the shadows moving. She heard
the air coalescing in front of her, felt its creeping
draft on the backs of her hands and the bottoms
of her feet. They were coming, the nightmare monsters. Please Monica,
Bill Patrick, somebody opened this door. She reached up and
tried to open it again, but it was still locked.
Stay still. A deep voice commanded through the walkie talkie.
What are you? Dotty yelled into the air, which continued
to twirl in front of her. She slapped at the
door again, pleading with the Stan's fields let me out, Please,
am sorry, please let me go. She could hear them
out there now bickering. Padric's voice was knowing explosive pitch
the main argument it seemed to be between Haremonica, though
Dotty could not spare much attention to try to make
out what they were saying. Suddenly, the static kiss ended
and the walkie talk is still red light, the only
light in the entire room, went out. The air stopped moving.
Dotty held her breath, not wanting it to give her away.
She could sense something now looming in front of her.
Examining the room with senses unknown to her left, near
where Patrick's bed should be, she sensed another presence. This
one seemed smaller yet equally sinister. She could see them
all at the same time with her eyes open or shut,
hear them despite the family arguing outside the door, and
sense the movements on her exposed and covered skin. They
were everywhere, including in her mind. They were not reaching
for her, They were reaching for something inside her. They were,
it seemed, calling for her very soul. Was this the
reckoning her parents had warned her about. Was this how
God was punishing her for disobeying the teachings of his
prophet Marrawalker. Her soul would be devied, gnashed by demons?
Was this the price everyone paid for watching movies, for
reading Harry Potter? But it was more than that she
had conspired again ainst Bill and Monica with their son.
She had plotted with him against direct wishes. She had disobeyed.
Perhaps this was the most serious crime for which she
had been sentenced. But no, she simply could not believe that.
She observed her own habitual pattern of thought as a
ticked through her brain, but she could not internalize it.
It was too discordant, too dissonant from the reality she'd experienced.
Dotty had never known such internal comfort before, and for
the first time, impossibly her entire life, she broke out
of entrench routs in her mind. She reached up for
the light switch, but was not surprised when it did nothing.
There was a window on the other side of Patrick's bed.
If she could get to it, it could shed some
light in the creatures and possibly offer a rout of escape,
if only the bed was all that stood in her way.
I'm not who you want, she shouted at the invisible
monsters standing. She pounded again on the door several times, yelling,
the child you want is out there while you're at
to take his parents to A snow projected from the
smaller creature and did Dotty's mind froze her momentarily. Evidently
she was not the only one who heard it. Hearing
the beast tree good Patrick to yell from outside the door, Quick, Dotty,
they are going to get you. An invisible hand called
from the darkness and gripped Dotty's wrist, almost instantly, numbing
her hand with its strength. Help she screamed as the
hand yanked her forward into the obscure blackness. The creature
released her after flinging her down on all fours. Her
shoulder brushed against the foot of Patrick's bed, and she
clambered on to it. The curtain was only a couple
of feet away. If she only knew exactly where it was,
she could surely reach it. She needed light, but everything
this Dancefield's own required electricity. At home, she knew where
to find a gas lamp at any given moment. Down
this modern society. Maybe they are not really sinners, but
they are really stupid. She let this virtuale feel her thoughts.
It had the unexpected effect of clearing her mind, plowing
roads to allow ideas to flow more freely. And that
was when Dotty remembered the glowistick Patrick gave her. She
did not have it with her now, but she remembered
where he retrieved it from. I keep a few of
these under my pillow at all times because the monster
can turn off the lights. She dolf, but her hand
only grazed the pillow case before one of the powerful
hands caught her left ankle and tugged her back. The
second monster made a pass of her arm. She swung
the arm at the creature instead. She felt it recoil,
but it recovered quickly. The big one holding her ankle
tried to grab her other leg, but Dotty lashed out
with a kick. She felt it connect, but since she
could only sense the beast and not see it, she
didn't know where her blow landed, only that it made
the monster release her ankle. The ill it's taking too long.
You need to get an air, Dotty heard Monica say,
as she dove for the glow sticks again. This time
she found one. She sat up and pulled her legs
and clothes. The all and Monica were now arguing again.
While they were distracted, Patrick yelled, go out the window, Dotty.
Dotty heard the sharp smack of Patrick paying the price
for a sound she could never mistake or forget. Get
in there, Monica snarled, it was now or never. Dotty
struggled with the glow stick, at first twisting it instead
of bending, but finally she heard a pop and saw
a vein of neon pink light appear. She bent it further,
felt a crackling in her hand uns it emitted a
saturating pink glow, banishing some shadows and darkening the rest.
The two dark shapes Dotty had most feared and expected
to see retreated into corners, the big one into Patrick's
partially opened closet and the smaller one under the bed.
She saw only the form the silhouettes of each before
they disappeared. They left vacances in Dotty's mind as well.
She no longer felt them invading her thoughts. All the same,
she turned her attention to the window. She pulled away
the curtain. Moon and Starlight's build in. They'll opened the door,
Dotty unlocked the window. They'll rushed forward. Dotty cranked the
window open. Diyll lunged Dotty tad at the screen, but
before she could pull it away, she was dragged, kicking
and screaming back to the doorway. Put her in her room,
said Monica. Already on it, said Bill. Patrick tried to
follow him, but Monica held him back. Dotty would never
speak to Patrick in person again. The following morning, Monica
let Dotty out of her room. She said that Patrick
would be staying upstairs because he didn't feel well. Dotty
assumed his parents are tall him to stay here so
they could try to brainwash her into believing her memory
of the night before was wrong. Fortunately, Dotty would be
spared their cruel lies by a surprise visit from Halle.
She had a police officer with her. Yes, Hallie, thank you,
thank you, Dotty cheered as Bill let the social worker
and police officer in. How did you know who told you?
That's her? The officer asked, Halle. Hallie, with sorrowful eyes, nodded.
Dotty asked, what's going on? I called her this morning,
said Monica, entering through the doorway under the stairs. I
told them how you've been making threats to hurt Patrick.
We're here to take you back into state custody while
your case is examined. Halle explained, Dotty, will you please
come with us and co operate? Of course, said Dotty,
But that's a lie there, liars. I would never say
I would hurt Patrick. They'd it was them who tried
to hurt me. They're just trying to shut me up.
See what I mean? Bill asked Halle. Was she like
this before? Halle refused to say anything, but the officer muttered,
A kid with that background's going to have some issues.
Hallie shot him a look, just go with them, please,
said Monica. If you go easy, maybe we won't press charges.
Dotty skewered her with her eyes. Hallie set This officer's
only here to make sure this goes smoothly. Dotty, can
we make that happen? Wordlessly, Dotty left the Stansfield's house.
Over the course of the next ear Dotty gave Halley
her version of events. It saddened her to admit it,
but Halley understood what had word Bill and Monica Dotty
sounded out of her mind. However, something about the way
Dotty told the story, with so much conviction and consistency,
made Halley believe the underlying truth of it something bad
had happened to her in that house. Thus, Dotty described
in detail of phone call Monica had with Halley about
potentially removing her from the home. That phone call, Halley
assured her, had never actually happened, but why would Dotty
lie about it? She wouldn't, so did Monica fake it?
For some reason. The next time Halley received an order
for replacement at the Stancefields, she by chance discovered a
clerical error in their renewal paperwork, which invalidated the license
until the air could be resolved. Hallye never heard from
them again. As for what happened to Patrick, he was fine,
it turned out. He wrote an email to Dotty when
he found her college email address in a university directory
when he googled her. He spent some of his message
apologizing for a small role in trapping Dotty with the monsters,
but he also explained how his parents had only been
trying to save him. They had conveniently been registered as
a foster home before everything with Patrick's night myre monsters
began and let the license lapse. After his torment began,
they simply renewed their license and accepted their first placement Doughty,
He wrote, my parents pretended not to believe in the monsters.
They wanted me to convince he to help me so
they could sacrifice you in my place that night when
they pushed you into my room, they tried to make
me think I would be carried off to be tortured
for eternity if I didn't go along with the plan
and let you get taken, he wrote. Dotty could identify
with that part. It summed up why she had gone
along with everything she had at home too, he continued,
they were just going to pretend you ran away. I
know it's a law to ask, and I don't expect
you to forgive them entirely, but please don't think of
my parents as evil people for what they did to you.
They didn't want to hurt you. They wanted to save me.
I don't agree with how they did it, but I
can understand why. I hope you can too. Finally, he
provided some closure. You're probably wondering what happened with the
monsters after you left right. I mean not to sound
like a narcissist, but you must have wondered if I
made it right. Well, obviously I did because of your bravery.
And I'm not just saying this. Those shadowy things didn't
ever have the same power over me again, Don't get
me wrong. They still scared the crap out of me,
but I had enough courage to get away. After that,
I started going into the room you used in sleeping
in your bed. I just remembered you and how strong
you felt. It was almost like still having you around anyway.
Eventually the monsters just stopped peering. I'm not even sure
when exactly has stopped. They became an afterthought, then nothing
at all. That's all for now. Hope life has treated
you fairly since you left. It'd be about time take
here Patrick Dotty smiled. She had forgiven Patrick long ago
and couldn't wait to tell him. She wrote a long
and touching letter andbuwing every new ones to she felt
during the process, but at the end she had to
add one quick line to thank Patrick for a small
role he had played in helping her feel braver at
night too. I almost forgot, she wrote, thanks to you,
I've got a pack of gloves stick's wedged under my
pillow now. Haven't needed them yet, but it's good to
know they're there. Take care as well, Dotty. And that
is the end. Thank you for listening, and I will
see you in the next one.