A Sad Dream

She was a dainty thing, loved wearing flouncy dresses, and hard-soled white shoes. Her blond hair held back with a hair band or berets. She loved to play games, dance in the gardens, and always ran to Uncle Edward when he came. She loved Uncle Edward the most, and he loved her. They would spend hours together, laughing and playing. They would make music, go to plays, or do a million other things. As long as they were together they were happy.

I loved her dearly and enjoyed her youthful exuberance. I always wanted her to be happy. That's why the change was so tragic. There seemed to be no warning. I certainly didn't receive any, though if I had paid more attention, maybe I would have caught the first signs.

I realized something was wrong when the doctor called for a family meeting. She wasn't invited. But I slipped down. I could see them in the parlor. Their faces were worried, drawn tight with strain I hadn't realized anyone felt. The doctor was shaking his head at Uncle Edward.

"I'm sorry. There's no cure. It will only get worse. Perhaps… you should begin making plans for her future."

"She will be staying here," Uncle Edward said firmly. "I'll stay with her."

I knew they were talking about her. The doctor had been making regular visits, more and more frequent lately. So may tests and disturbances to our peaceful days. We didn't like it. It riled her up; made her increasingly violent. I've always felt it was partially his fault.

The doctor left, but the dark cloud stayed. I tried to cheer everyone up, but they remained wary. There was no hope for it.

That night, she killed them. One by one they died.

Until no one was left.

I saw them.

Lying at the bottom of the stairs where a firm push had sent one tumbling down. The blood from a head wound seeping into the two hundred year old oak floors.

Sprawled out on the Persian rug in the drawing room. The knife glinting in the moonlight, left in one of many stab wounds.

Slumped over the cold tea. A favored shawl wrapped tight around a neck. Claw marks outlined with dried blood where desperate hands had tried to relieve the fatal pressure.

I woke up shivering and crying. My terrified mind had provided a gruesome reason for the swift disappearances.

Singly at first, and then in groups they began to go. Packing up and never returning.

Uncle Edward stayed.

The sorrow and pain in his eyes increased daily. Every time he looked at her it would grow.

But he stayed.

He put on a cheerful face; tried to interest her in their past games and other amusements. When she became violent, he would hold her, rock her, and whisper in her ear. We did not know what he said but it would calm her for a while.

He loved her and would have stayed with her to the end.

"Then why? Why did you do it? If he was taking such good care of you."

The grey bearded man in the white lab coat waited for the blond haired woman facing the window to turn in her seat and look at him.

After a pause, she did so. Her guileless eyes seeming to look through him to somewhere else. Not seeing the earnest expression—begging to understand.

He had all of her attention he was going to get so he repeated his question firmly.

"Why did you kill your Uncle Edward?"

"Because he stayed," her voice was gentle as she stated the obvious.

She must have registered the Doctor's confused expression, because she smiled gently and elaborated.

"I didn't want him to watch her slowly be consumed. He didn't deserve that fate."

"So you view it as…a…mercy killing?"

The doctor leaned forward, as if fascinated by the concept and eager to delve deeper into this psychology.

"Could you leave now?" The woman asked softly. "I wish to go to sleep."

Grey brows furrowed in confusion.

"But it's barely nine o'clock in the morning. You just got up." He protested.

The blond woman sat primly in her high backed chair; her elegant breeding evident in her very stillness. A wistful smile touched her lips.

"Perhaps…if I sleep long enough…I may see him."