"Your father isn’t himself right now, best stay out of his reach."

​

HIS warning came to me as a whisper through the slats of the barn floor. I crouched down, trying my hardest to make HIM out in the darkness. I’m still not sure if HE was human or something else. HE kind of looked like one. Except HIS skin was rotten and HIS smile was full of sharp teeth and HIS eyes glowed red. But HE had always been kind to me.

​

"You can wait here with me,” HE suggested. We listened to my father screaming from inside the house. Poor mother. I hoped he would wear himself down and pass out before he could blacken her eyes this time.

​

“Why does he do this?” I asked HIM. I could hear HIM crawling around beneath me before HE found an answer.

​

“He’s sick. Brainsick. He thinks drinking from those bottles will make him feel better. But they never do.”

​

I thought about that for a while as I chipped splinters off of the floorboards. Brainsick. Hmmm.

​

“Do you ever think he’s going to get better?” I wondered. HE peered up at me with his crimson glare. HIS teeth clacked together while HE thought.

​

“We could try fixing him.”

​

“How do we do that?”

​

And so HE told me.

​

​

Father was confused when he woke up. He blinked at me as blood ran into his eyes. He’d been asleep on the floor when I hit him with the hammer. I had to make sure he didn’t wake up when I was dragging him to the barn though.

​

“What… what are you doing?” he garbled. I wanted to tell him, but it just seemed easier to show him. I picked up the saw. His eyes went wide once he realized he was bound to a sturdy beam. So many screams and obscenities followed. Then even more as the blade began cutting through his skin.

​

HE guided me as I worked, scuttling around under my feet and gnashing HIS teeth eagerly. Once I got through the skull, I saw it. The brainsick. The bits and pieces that didn't belong. I started pulling them out, they stuck to my fingers like slimy cobwebs. I didn’t like it.

​

“Bring them here, bring them to me…”

​

I dangled them through the cracks and HE gobbled them down.

​

“Bring more. More.”

​

So it went, until the brainsick was gone. And all that was left was a hollow skull. I beamed at HIM, and HE beamed back.

​

​

Mother didn't seem pleased by my work. When I showed her the next morning she just kind of slumped over and buried her face in her hands. And she didn't move. She just stayed that way.

​

"I thought she'd be happy, but she's not," I told HIM. HE salivated while HE thought.

​

"She must be sick. Brainsick."

​

Hmmm. Brainsick.

​

"It's okay, Mother," I assured her as I picked up the saw, "I know how to fix you."