Petunia and the Little Monster

April, 1972

It was the morning of Easter Sunday when Petunia made Lily cry.

Petunia awoke to an uncomfortable tightness in her stomach and the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air, a sure indicator that their mother had already started baking hot cross buns.

Lily was standing in front of their shared vanity, combing her copper locks and looking at Petunia through the mirror when she sat up.

"Morning, Tuney."

Petunia pressed a hand to her tummy, the soft cotton of her nightgown bunching between her fingers. Something was wrong. Her thighs felt ... sticky.

Not really giving the matter more thought, she flipped back her bed covers - and froze. Ice encased her limbs, her fingers clenching the sheets, her eyes focused on something she didn't want to see.

And then the ice shattered into shards when Lily's brush noisily clattered to the floor.

Slowly looking up, Petunia met wide green eyes in the slightly tarnished vanity mirror. Lily's face had blanched quite spectacularly and before Petunia could think further, a big tear rolled down her little sister's cheek. "Blood ... There's blood! Oh, no, Tuney ..."

And then she broke out in huge sobs, swallowing the rest of whatever she might have wanted to say. Petunia felt strangely numb, maybe having her sister freak out relieved her of all her own panic.

Lily's tears and snot were glistening on her face like a snail's trail while she continued wailing at the top of her lungs: "M-Mum! Mum, come quick! T-Tuney is ... Tuney is hurt!"

Petunia just sat on her bed, not sure what she was supposed to do just yet. Her nausea at spotting her soiled legs was still roiling in her stomach but it had settled down enough that she could look again.

"What a mess," she mumbled, which just made Lily cry harder, something Petunia could almost admire. Lily wasn't only magical, she also had the lung capacity of an opera singer.

Hurried steps clattered up the stairs and then the door to their room was ripped open, their mother standing in the doorway, a bit of flour sticking to her fingers and apron. Her grey-blue eyes immediately sought out her bitterly crying child. "Lily, what's wrong?"

Lily pointed a trembling finger at Petunia and their mother's gaze followed her gesture.

"Oh! Oh ..." Stepping into the room, she closed the door behind her before walking over to Lily. Softly she started brushing the tears from her daughter's face, leaving traces of flour instead. "Shh, calm down, honey. There's no need to cry."

Lily hiccuped wetly. "But Tuney ..."

Her mother gave Petunia a smile, still stroking Lily's cheeks. "Nothing is wrong. This is something that happens to every girl when she grows up."

"What is it?" Petunia asked, feeling calmer now that her mother hadn't freaked out and frantically phoned the village's clinic.

Her mother finally walked over and sat on the edge of Petunia's bed. She didn't stroke her face though, just patted Petunia's hand, which was still clutching the covers in a white-knuckled grip. "It's something that will happen every month from now on. You'll feel unwell and bleed for a number of days, but it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with your body - quite the opposite."

"But blood means she's hurt," Lily protested. Her eyes were swollen and red but at least they had stopped watering.

"Not this blood," Carol claimed. "This blood is very special. It means that you aren't a child anymore but a young woman."