“There’s no need to hide,” she whispered coolly into the silent night. But the little girl didn’t move, not an inch.

She could hear every breath the girl took and felt every move she made, even when she didn’t move.

“Won’t you come out from under there?” she held out a soft hand underneath the front porch to the girl.

Something bright and yellow flicked around in the corner of her eye, even in the darkness. But she refused to look at it, for fear her acknowledging it would only put the tiny girl in further danger.

“Scottie, get out from under there, right now!” she whispered, fervently, reaching out to the girl. But for all of her efforts, she couldn’t fit under the porch like this little girl could, and the little girl was frozen in fear.

The Bright Yellow Thing flicked again, closer to Scottie then before, and suddenly Scottie cried out, rushing from under the porch, the Yellow Thing attached to the girls arm. The girl flailed violently and then fell to the ground, her eyes half closed.

She squeezed the snake’s jaw on impulse and flung it away, taking the little girl in her arms and rushing her into the house.

---

Three pairs of little eyes, two brown and one green, hovered over the edge of the kitchen table, silent and solemn. The tiniest pair had tears, and spoke up quietly.

“Mother, is Scottie going to be okay?”

“I’m not sure, Johnny, but I want you kids to go get yourselves ready for bed. And don’t bother your father,” she warned, watching momentarily as three little bodies obeyed her, without complaint.

She looked back down to her little Scottie, whose eyes were still only half open. Her little head was laced with sweat, and her cheeks were red with fever.

She couldn’t leave her other three alone with their father: he was drunk and always getting drunker. His violence was exactly what scared Scottie underneath the porch in the first place. On the other hand, taking the three with her meant exposing them to the truth: their beloved sister was dying. It was something she didn’t want to explain to them, although she knew she was going to have to, and more times then one.

They came in, together, the oldest of them holding the youngest’s hand.

“Get your shoes and jackets on, now,” she ordered them, and again they obeyed her without question. Reluctantly, she left her daughters side in search of a heavy quilt to wrap her in.

--

Scottie was gone before she reached the hospital.

“Mrs. Williams, please, can you tell us what happened?” a nurse, Norah, was asking her.

She could only focus on Norah’s name tag: was there any possible reason for the smiley face after those five letters? What was so happy about Norah, and what was so happy about her dead little girl?

“Mrs. Williams?” Norah shook the woman’s arm, looking into her empty eyes.

“She was bitten by a snake,” she admitted, finally.

“Why didn’t you call 911?” Norah asked, her eyebrows furrowing as her eyes flicked over to the other three children who were solemn as pallbearers in pajamas and tiny tennis shoes.

“We don’t have a phone,” she answered. “Why don’t I have a phone?” she asked Norah suddenly, looking up into her eyes. Norah bit her bottom lip and handed her a clipboard and a pen.

“Please fill this entire sheet out and we’ll see if there’s anything we can do to help you.”

Norah walked away, leaving Mrs. Williams and her three children alone in the waiting room of an unfamiliar hospital without their Scottie.

Hospitals should never be familiar, Mrs. Williams thought as she checked the box next to the words that read, “This hospital setting is unfamiliar/unfriendly to you.”