“Stop that right now or I’ll put your head through the wall!” shouted Gretchen, her brown hair a mess, her throat raw, her voice hoarse.

And little Frankie, the child she had once loved and adored and held on to and cherished, the one that didn’t exist anymore, cried.

“Stop crying!” Another scream, another barrage of ear-splitting wails.

“Gretchen!” Vern called. “Gretchen, don’t!” He ran headlong and oblivious to obstacles. This was Gretchen’s last shred of patience being torn away, thrown out into the dumpster and taken away and put in the city dump. He knew if he didn’t reach Frankie, Frankie would be in a bad way, very bad.

“I’m afraid!” Frankie screeched. “Mommy, Mommy, don’t, I’m sorry! No!” Each yell went up an octave, every one more panicky than the last. And then Daddy came.

Vern skidded into his wife and son and they fell in a heap on the floor, all of them breathing heavy, all of them with tears in their bloodshot eyes. Sadness and rage and fear…

Daddy got up and peeled Gretchen bodily off of Frankie’s throat. Frankie spluttered and cried all the more. Vern felt tears stream down his face, unmitigated. He had never felt so sad, so helpless, so pitiful in his life…seeing his son almost get killed was unbearable. His wife fought against his grip.

“Frankie, get yourself something to drink. You can have soda if you want…just…just get upstairs, quick. Okay?” Vern said loudly.

“Yes, Daddy,” he sniffled. He shuffled up the stairs, each creak of the steps punctuated by a sniff or a separate burst of crying. But then Gretchen broke free of his vice grip, screeching and running up the stairs, and then the squealing started and suddenly stopped.

Vern ran upstairs. He had to save Frankie from Gretchen, had to keep him safe. He rushed downstairs, screaming, “Gretchen, get your hands off him!” And when he saw them, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Gretchen was helping Frankie build with his multicolored blocks? After that violent display, he was shocked. There were no marks around Frankie’s throat…both of their eyes were fine, not teary and red…what had happened.

“Is something wrong, honey?” Gretchen asked; she sounded a little scared.

“No,” Vern said, paused, took a deep breath, said again, “No, nothing…I just thought…Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He walked away from them hearing “Oooh, watch it, it’s gonna fall!” and “Uh oh!”

It was his third hallucination that week. There was something definitely wrong. And whatever it was…whatever it was, it needed to end, and end now. Otherwise something would happen. Chances were, he said to himself pensively, that he wasn’t going to like it in the least.