“Make it stop! Make it stop!” Sebastian sat straight up in bed, sweat pouring off his face. Sylvie ran to his bedside, noticing his red cheeks as she sat down next to him. His hair, wet around the edges, stuck straight up. Frantically, he brushed his hands over his arms as if he were trying to wipe something off.
“Shh . . .” Sylvie hushed as she pulled him in close to her. She smoothed out his hair with her hands. “It’s just a dream, Sebastian. It was just a dream.”
Sebastian fell into her arms and bawled.
“It’s okay,” Sylvie said, though she felt like it was a lie. How was anything ever going to be okay again?
Sebastian’s tears made a wet spot on her shirt. His body, like a furnace, felt clammy pressed against her chest. Sylvie felt her guts wrench as he shook with sobs. He wiped the gooey snarl that dripped from his nose onto his pajama sleeve.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sylvie asked.
Sebastian nodded as he pulled away, “It was everywhere, Sylvie. It was so real. I could feel it, Sylvie.”
“What? What was everywhere? What did you feel?”
“The fire. It was everywhere. The fire. Everywhere.” He stopped, catching his breath. “Is it gone?” He looked straight into her eyes.
Sylvie stared back at her little brother. She couldn’t help but notice how young he looked, eyes wild and panic-stricken, as if he’d just seen a ghost. Of course, he was young—he was only eleven years old, after all. It was just that he often presented himself as a grown-up, so it was easy to forget how old he actually was. He read more than Sylvie, that was for sure. He read everything, even books Mom or Dad didn’t want to read. The family’s joke was that if anyone wanted to know something, they should ask Sebastian. So many times, he’d told them some unique fact. Like that, sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins or that the letter Q doesn’t appear in any state name. No one ever believed him until they’d look up his crazy facts in the encyclopedia and find out he was right. But it wasn’t just random facts. Sometimes he seemed to just know things—as if he’d lived it all before. He always seemed to know, for example, when the phone was going to ring, or what the next song to play on the radio would be.
“There’s no fire,” Sylvie said, still staring at him. “It was just a dream.”
Sebastian leaned back on his pillows, considering if that was true. “The house was burning. I was there. The flames were everywhere. I could feel how hot they were, Sylvie.”
Sylvie grabbed his Tonka Pound Puppy at the edge of his bed and handed it to him. Sebastian often tried to pretend he didn’t still like stuffed animals, but Sylvie knew better. She’d spotted him snuggling with his various stuffed animals many times when he thought no one was looking. Now he rubbed his wet eyes with the stuffed animal’s floppy ears.
“Sometimes dreams are like that,” Sylvie said. “They feel real.”
“Like this one?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes, like this one,” Sylvie said, though she wasn’t sure if he meant the fire or this nightmare they were now living.
“What if Dad never comes back?” Sebastian said between sniffles.
“He’s going to come back,” Sylvie answered.
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“But where did he go?” Sebastian stared at her, waiting for an answer. Sylvie fumbled over her thoughts. Where did Dad go? She didn’t know. No one knew. That was the problem.
“I don’t know, Sebastian.”
“Do you think the killer got him?”
“No. Dad’s too strong for that. He’d knock him out with one punch.”
At this, Sebastian laughed. “Dad’s skinny and he’s not that tall.”
“You don’t have to be tall to be strong.” Sylvie pointed out.
“But you need muscles. Dad doesn’t have those.” Sebastian said.
“True. But Dad loves us too much. There’s no way he’d let some killer get him.”
“But he got June, the killer. What if he comes after us? I want Dad. He needs to be here.” Sebastian hugged the stuffed dog close to his chest.
“I know,” Sylvie said. “I want him here, too.”
A palpable silence enveloped the room as they both sat in stillness. Outside, the wind tussled the tree branches onto the window, tapping the glass.
“Mom has to go back to work,” Sebastian said, breaking the quiet. “I heard her tell Uncle Lonnie and Aunt May. That means we’ll be home all alone.”
Sylvie sighed. She knew Mom probably didn’t want to go back to work yet, but that was the way the industrial mills worked. Once, Mom had told Sylvie that a man she worked with got fired because he missed work after being in a horrible car accident. The mill didn’t care. All they cared about was their quota and that he hadn’t been in his assembly line. Sylvie wondered how Mom was going to get herself together to get to work. She’d hardly gotten dressed for the funeral.
“We’ll be fine. I’ll keep us safe,” Sylvie promised.
Sebastian fidgeted, making the bed squeak. “Aunt May said we could go over there, but Mom said she didn’t want to impose,”
“That’s probably just as well. Do you really want to spend our afternoons with Maggie and Mia?”
“No,” Sebastian said. “Definitely not.” He paused. “But isn’t Mom scared to leave us alone? What about the killer?”
“Mom is… tough. You know that. Besides, the police are watching our house day and night.”
Sebastian looked away. Sylvie could feel the tension rising in the room. There was more on Sebastian’s mind. She could feel it.
“I don’t want to go back to school,” Sebastian said.
There it was.
School. Hearing the word made Sylvie shudder. She didn’t want to go back either. Everyone would talk, whispering in corners about their sister, their father.
“Well, look at the bright side—tomorrow’s Saturday, so we have two more days off.” Sylvie gave his arm a playful punch, trying to make light of it. But Sebastian didn’t manage to smile.
“Who’s going to make my egg sandwich? June made it every morning,” he said.
“I’ll do it, buddy.” Sylvie promised.
“But you always burn the egg.”
Sylvie smiled. “I’ll try not to.”
The room fell silent once more.
“Sylvie?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay here tonight? I’m scared. I don’t want the fire to come back.”
“Okay,” Sylvie said. “Scooch over.”
Sebastian scooted over, still hugging his Pound Puppy.
Sylvie laid her head on his extra pillow.
“Sylvie,” Sebastian said as he nestled close to her.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to miss her.”
Sylvie looked up at the ceiling, feeling the gravity of his words. She watched as the shadows danced on the bedroom wall from the tree branches still swaying under the moonlight outside the window. Sylvie thought about all the times June had annoyed her. All the times she wished her sister would disappear. A suffocating tightness swelled in her chest. Sylvie had never meant it, of course. She didn’t really want her sister to disappear. They were sisters. Sisters that used to love making art together in the playroom when they were little, littering the carpet with glitter. Sisters that used to chase each other up and down the beach, before jumping in the waves to splash. She loved her sister. They didn’t always fight.
“Me, too, Sebastian,” Sylvie finally said, after a long, empty silence. “Me, too.”