There's a strange noise in the bedrooms.
Mummy's children had blond curls and brown eyes- long, toned limbs and nut brown skin.
Six little angels with bright smiles and round faces.
And one with straight black hair and grey violet eyes- almost skeletal body and egg-white skin.
One strange little boy with a clever smirk and pointed features.
He was the youngest, but not the weakest. His etiolated body held remarkable strength for such a small creature.
From the others' perspective, he was weird. Well and truly strange, and dangerous, and so, they avoided him.
It sounds like a bird.
He eats more than they do. Stacks of pancakes, dozens of eggs, whole sides of bacon.
He's eating them out of house and home.
Mummy doesn't mind because he is her baby boy, her special kid. The others do. They will go without winter coats to feed his gaping mouth.
There are too many children to support.
He looks at them with calculating eyes, as though he is weighing their worth.
There are five little angels now.
The bird sounds louder now, stronger. They cannot sleep.
Their youngest sister had an accident. Fell down the stairs. A tragedy. Nobody saw it happen though, except him. Her neck twists to the side, her arms spread like broken wings. He cries plastic tears in Mummy's arms, but they can see him smiling.
Things are easier for a while.
Without the little girl, they can afford his appetite.
They can hear it in the walls, claws scratching on the floor. Soon it will be strong enough to fly.
There are four, three, two little angels now.
Every one has been found by him.
Every time, Mummy clings to him a little tighter. Her baby boy, her special kid. She cannot lose him, too.
She never knows he's not at risk.
Little blond children splayed on hard concrete, broken like eggs dropped from a height.
Like eggs rolled out of a nest.
They try to tell her.
He's not a child.
He's not her child.
He killed her real children.
He's a monster.
He should not be here.
They tell her about the bird in the walls.
They her about his smiles.
She does not believe them.
They can hear it flying now. Singing so loudly, like a victory march. They hold each other tight- they will not let him take them too, leave their Mummy defenseless.
He runs to Mummy crying plastic tears.
He says they attacked him.
He shows her the stab wound.
He says they think he is a monster.
He says they think there is something in the walls.
They cannot stop him, because they told her the same thing only days ago.
Mummy cries as she calls the hospital, staring at them as though they are strangers. Can't she see that the blood pouring from his arm is really red-painted birdseed?
He eats and grows stronger, with nobody else to distract his mother.
She grows tired and thin.
He grows stronger and brighter, teeth shining like bone when he smiles.
The bird is so strong now. It can almost get out. So close...
She is not going to survive the month. The hospital says it is a wasting disease, something connected with birds.
He doesn't bother crying this time, just sits at her bedside and smiles.
He is strong enough to survive on his own now.
He doesn't need a mother.
He didn't ever, really.
It's probably better they never saw what the thing behind the walls was.