She had a monster, and he agreed to tame it.
He heard the door ring and knew it was her and opened the door. His sister showered him in thanks, made promises of her child’s angelic qualities, hugged said child, hugged him, and was gone.
“So, it’s just the two of us,” Only several hours, but he grumbled to himself. “Stop staring and get your ass in here.”
The little girl blinked at the harsh tone of voice, glared at the language by narrowing her large almond eyes, a splitting image of the mother that just left. “A true gentleman invites his guest into his household.”
Ah, it’s been a while since he’s heard that tongue he hated; so he turned, left the door ajar and her with the decision to follow suit or not, “That was an invitation, enough,” He added. “And, I am no gentleman.”
She evolved. It only took a month.
“Uncle, uncle,” She would call in her sweet voice, musical like her father’s. “What are you doing?” Her small chin would then place itself upon the edge of his table, her small hands grabbing the sides to see.
“Work,” He grunted just beyond the patter of keyboard. “Go and finish destroying my living room, please.”
For a six years old, she was quick to catch on sarcasm, “I didn’t destroy it last time, it was just…furnishing.”
“Wow, ‘furnishing,’” He angled his laptop just enough to meet her demanding gaze. “Such a big word. Do you even know what it means?”
“Well, the random paint splatters don’t seem to agree.”
“The walls were too boring!” She crossed her short arms. “Just like you.”
“Oh, too bad that this boring uncle was going to take you out for ice cream, but since you think it so boring — ”
“ — Yay, ice cream!” As she dashed out of the room, presumably to get her purple boots even though it was the middle of summer, he couldn’t help but smile.
But that simple exercise stung, smiling took too much and he just opted to press the knots in his back and hand.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Don’t have one.”
He regretted his honesty, didn’t think that would call for even more questioning. “Don’t really have time for that kind of things?”
“Then what do you have time for?”
He opened his mouth to speak, the hand in his doesn’t seem so small all the sudden.
He wanted to snap, “Walking annoying children across the street to sight see,” but blurted instead, “You.”
It’s the same thing, same idea, he just didn’t want to waste that many words on her, that’s all. She smiled and pointed at another fluffy puppy.
Her condition made her older than her age. She knew she was special, that she was born with too much power, that her existence was unusual.
“Mommy said she named me after a bright star,” The girl was proud, musing in childish existentialism wrapped in blankets, staring at the stars hiding behind storm clouds and flashes of lightning. “If I die, I can be a supernova.”
“You won’t die,” His voice demanded no argument, though the words were nothing that he expected to pair with a cup of chocolate as he handed her her own mug. “I will make sure of it.”
She whispered a small thank you, snuggled with her blanket until that was insufficient and she went to him, stared at him a little before demanding a warm hug and fell asleep in his arms.
He knew all would come to an end, eventually. As he watched the girl levitating his living room’s sparse decor with the latest spell he taught her — also to be his latest regret — he caught himself beaming idiotically with stupid pride. He was grinning stupidly, and it was less painful now, he scoffed at himself, continued reading.
“Uncle, uncle!” She sounded far, probably strayed away to the dining room to steal some cookies on his unawares. “Uncle!”
The last call was too shrill to be playful, and he shot out of his seat to her in a panicked tumble, tripped on a dangerous chair and slipped on coloring pencils. God, his apartment was turning into a kindergarten, he forgot fear like this until now.
She curled into a little ball on the kitchen floor, a shattered jar of cookies next to her. She used her spell, he guessed, and that was the limit. So small, sobbing, he lulled her in his arms and convinced her that all was just a well-timed shadow, an imagined face she often pointed out within the tiles or towels and no ghosts plagued her mind.
“They said such horrible things,” The tears washed his shirt. “They were here.”
He knew this day would come, and that her visits were all for this day, anyway. Only a couple of months, a child take so little time to trust and attach. So, she, too, will forget. He, again, would live but be forgotten; but, he learned to smile and that was enough, “Forget, then, my sweet star. Sleep and dream, for the nightmares would be gone when you wake and see.”
And so she closed her bright, teary eyes, dreamed.
“So, you’ve done it?”
“Sealed her powers, and she should be fine as long as she doesn’t remember.”
“I cannot express my thanks.”
Nor can I, he watched the woman turning to her love, who carried the sleeping child in a careful cradle. They paid their respects, but he was simply paying his dues. They left just like the way they came, silent.
He was left, again, just like the way before, silent, though the corner of his mouth curled rebelliously.