WHO: Nursery Rhymes in her former guise WHEN Two weeks ago, and a few days before this WHERE: In a nice, normal house somewhere in New York WHAT: A lesson in honesty WARNINGS: Child abuse, disfiguration, blood
Nanny’s tongue clicked in irritation as she rubbed fabric against itself beneath the stream of cold water; the blood wasn’t coming out of her apron as easily as it usually did.
Outside the laundry, the little boy was wailing. It was a high, frantic sound, interrupted only by even more frantic coughing fits as he gasped blood down his throat. Nanny – Mary Ravenscroft, as she had been called for some time now, though the children knew her simply as Nanny – did not respond; she’d warned him and warned him against lying, and had absolutely no sympathy for his plight. There’d always been naughty children in the world who didn’t listen, but he’d learn, now, without a tongue to speak such wicked things.
Nanny pulled her apron taught, inspecting the stain under the light. She would have to soak it properly in a bucket.
The screaming continued. “Ah, quiet now, Benjamin!” she called through the door, drying her hands on a different corner of her apron. “Tis only a tongue. Better that than fire and brimstone!” She lay her hand on the door handle and turned – but the door did not budge. She rattled the door in its hinges, but it was firmly bolted.
“I’ve called the police!” came a shaky voice from the hallway; Kaitlynn, Benjamin’s twelve year old sister. “You’re a psycho!” Her shouting made Benjamin, cradled in her arms, cry even harder, and Nanny could hear her trying to soothe him between shouting abuse at her nanny, growing in viciousness with every moment.
“Temper temper,” Nanny murmured through the door. “Open the door, Katie-pie.”
“NEVER! The police are coming and you’re going to ROT IN PRISON!”
Nanny sighed. Katie had started to hit her savage teenage years, started to slip out of her influence.
True to the girl’s word, though, Nanny’s ears caught the sound of sirens. She looked down at the bloodstain on her apron, then up at her face in the mirror, grey hair curling around her round face. She tried the door again, and Katie screamed in rage and kicked out against it in return.
Well then.
Casting her eyes about, Nanny looked up at the little window, high above the laundry sink. It wouldn’t do – the frosted window far too narrow to wiggle through, but being taken into custody wouldn’t do either. Loathe was she to be forced to spend her time only with adults.
It was perhaps her revulsion that began her transformation, perhaps not. She didn’t intend to change, but would not deny it was handy. She watched as her soft hands narrowed, her wrists grew bony, freckles burst like bubbles onto her arms.
When the police arrived, Katie was there to meet them, her bleeding brother in her arms. Though her face was red from shouting, and wet with tears besides, she held her chin high and strong. The moment she passed Ben to the care of the paramedics, she slipped out of the ambulance to chase after the officer. There had been something off about their Nanny for a while, but only tonight had she realised the full extent of how unstable, how horrifying she was, and Katie was fully determined to watch the police take her away in handcuffs.
She was trembling as the officer unbolted the door, but stopped breathing entirely as the door opened, revealing an utterly empty room; a narrow, open window; and a perfectly folded, bloodstained apron, set neatly on top of the drier.