Broken Ever Afters

Part 2 - Chapter 3

I toss and turn all night, the only thing on my mind being Ames and the uncomfortable conversation we had this morning. There must be something I can do to help him out – but what? Even if I manage to talk to someone on high in the government or in the army and convince them to pardon Adam's future drafting, I'm not a miracle worker or a doctor. What happened for us to deserve such bad luck? The image of my happily ever after crumbled to a broken one in an instant.

When I returned home this morning, I ran upstairs to my room and locked myself inside. As much as I wanted to help Dad with the stuff from the store, I was too sad and even a little depressed. Dad came by to make sure I was okay but I just brushed him off.

Instead, I spent the day sitting in front of the computer, browsing through various medical websites and journals to read into ALS. From my research I found out most patients live two to five years with the appropriate treatment. In five years' time, if Ames ever makes it that far, Adam will be twelve and Lyla will be eight. I would be old enough to be responsible of them and providing for them and I want to but not at the cost of Ames's life. After losing count of how many times I replayed this morning's events in my mind, I realized I shouldn't have shouted at him.

After tossing and turning around some more, I sit up in bed and walk downstairs barefoot. The floor is icy cold but I don't dare to wear my bed slippers – they squeak a lot. Dad is still in his bed, verifiable by the loud snoring coming from his room. Walking tiptoe past the dulcet tones of his snoring, I softly step down the stairs.

A thud reaches my ears from down the hallway as soon as both my feet are on the ground. From what I can tell it either came from Dad's studio or the living room. We have no pets which could wreak havoc during the night because we're both are allergic to anything furry. The next thud makes me jump. Going to the phone is not an option because I'd have to pass by the studio and the living room to get to the kitchen and whoever broke in might catch me.

Confronting a possibly armed stranger alone is unwise, unarmed is purely foolish. I need a weapon – something to defend myself with. What can I use? I remember we still have a toolbox in the bathroom because Dad has been fixing a leak. I should be able to find something useful in there.

As silently as possible, I tiptoe to the bathroom, slip inside and turn on the light. The red toolbox is half hidden underneath the sink. Thankfully, the rusty old thing is open and I can silently extract a spanner from it without clanging any other tools or the box itself. For once in my life I'm grateful Dad is a procrastinator or else I would have nothing to defend myself with.

Sneaking out, I turn off the light with my free hand, the spanner firmly gripped in the other. Every four or five steps I stop to listen for any noise, trying to identify from whence the thuds are coming. Two consecutive thuds. The intruder is inside my Dad's studio. Standing staller, I place my back against the wall and slide towards the door – the spanner high above my head, ready to strike.

The door is shut and the lights are on inside. The sheer curtain is impeding me from getting a clear view of whoever is inside but I can see a shadow moving about. I scoff when I notice it is only one person – a man slightly plumper than a stick figure with unruly, short curly hair. I can take him down if things take a turn for the worst.

Turning the golden knob, I open the door and burst in to find the room empty. There's no way the intruder could have gotten away that fast and the window is shut. I let and arm fall to my side while holding up the other to my forehead. Could I have imagined it all? Could I be so worn out I have started to see things. A snicker behind me soon proves me wrong.

When I turn around an impish, strangely dressed figure is standing between Dad's work desk and the bookcase. White trousers, a dark green vest, a burgundy shirt and a dark purple coat complete his attire. His appearance reminds me of Rumpelstiltskin but I know it can't be the same character from the infamous fairy tales. Why is this man dressed in this odd way?