I rubbed the rough surface of the ancient ring that clung to my finger and felt it bite deeper into my flesh, the pain reminding me of Its impending visit. The wall clock ticked and ticked, its hands spinning mercilessly, begging for my gaze. I refused the call, but the message was crystal clear.
Midnight was approaching.
Emilia tapped the cover of the book I was holding, startling me.
“And then, Mommy?” she asked, her breathing labored but steadier than it had been in months.
Part of me wanted to keep telling her how the baby dragon overcame his dark side and lived happily ever after with his sheep neighbors. It held a decent message, and I was painfully aware of how well it would fit her new life, the one that would begin tomorrow. But it felt wrong. Was that all I was going to leave her with? A shallow story that might or might not help her deal with my absence. What if she felt abandoned? Or even worse, guilty.
A drop of blood seeped from under the ring and sank into the fabric of my jeans. It was so dark it hardly looked like blood.
I reached over and patted my daughter’s face. “Then, the baby grew into a giant dragon, taller than two whole buildings put together,” I said.
“He did?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.
“Yup. The dragon grew massive, with dark, sharp scales, each as big as a fully-grown dog.”
She frowned at the book’s cover, which featured innocent cartoons of a tiny, blue, smooth-skinned dragon playing with cute white sheep.
She’s such a smart girl.
"For decades, the dragon roared and bit and clawed to protect his master from…” I hesitated, thinking of something clever to say. “From evil things.”
Emilia giggled before covering her mouth. A pang of deep guilt threatened to overwhelm me as her whole body convulsed for a few seconds, her hands covering her mouth, every inch of her fighting to hold back a coughing fit. She won this battle, just barely, but she won, and I was proud of not intervening. This night would not be about the damned disease.
“One day,” I continued, “a great demon appeared in the sky. The ugly beast sat on a cloud, observing the master and its dragon laugh and play. Disgusted by their happiness, the demon decided to suck the energy out of the master, drop by drop, until there was nothing left.”
“Oh no,” Emilia gasped and quickly covered her mouth again. This time, though, she lost the battle. My heart clenched as she coughed and struggled to breathe. It was bad, but not as bad as last month, before the deal. I began reaching for her shoulder but stopped as quickly as I caught myself doing it. There I was with my arm in an awkward L-shape, feeling guilty for almost drawing attention to the disease while feeling equally as guilty for not helping.
Fortunately, the coughing lasted only a few seconds. When Emilia recovered, she hid the napkin behind her tiny hands and inspected it.
A beautiful smile broke out on her face. “Don’t worry, Mommy, see? No blood, just yuckies,” she said.
The napkin, now splattered with green, didn't have a single drop of red.
“And you sure can handle some darn yuckies, sweetie,” I said, smiling.
The wall clock chimed, signaling midnight. I gasped involuntarily, a shiver running down my spine. The clock was about five minutes off, and it was all the time I had left.
Please, God, make it work.
“Finish the story, Mommy, I’m getting sleepy,” Emilia pleaded. “Did the dragon’s master die?”
“Die?” I asked stupidly, my mind still lingering on the deal. “No, he didn’t die,” I blurted harder than I meant. “The dragon would never let that happen, remember? Seeing the person he loved the most in the world suffering so much, the dragon decided to go up to the sky and challenge the demon to a deadly duel.”
Her eyebrows arched in a pained expression. “How deadly?”
The bleeding had worsened, and a small pond of black blood was forming between my feet.
“Very,” I said, remembering the night I made the pact with It. “When the day came, the dragon bit its tail and ripped off a giant dark scale with its teeth. The dragon offered it to its master, and begged him never to forget his faithful companion.”
“And then?”
A thousand poor endings flashed through my mind.
“Then, as the master watched his beloved dragon soar into the sky, he slashed his arm on the sharp scale, tearing the skin from elbow to wrist.”
"Oh," she gasped. "Why would he do that? It must have hurt."
“It hurt terribly. The dragon’s master had to nurse the wound for years. But after some time, the cut healed, and the pain disappeared. Decades after the dragon’s departure, the master still fondly remembered his brave protector every time he looked at the scar.”
“Hmm… And did he live happily ever after?” she asked.
The question dazed me. “I don’t know, honey,” I answered truthfully, “but it is my deepest wish that he did.”
“I don’t get this story,” she drawled. “Can you please turn off the lights, Mommy? I’m sleepy.”
I stared at her as if her request had been terribly complex. This was it; the final farewell. I kissed her forehead and turned away before she could see my wet, tearful face. Stepping towards the door was pure torture, but I did it, and let a finger rest on the light switch for a moment. With a glance, I saw that Emilia had already closed her eyes and allowed myself to savor every detail of her sweet, sleepy face for one last time.
“I love you, sweetheart. I will always love you,” I whispered, hiding the pain as best as I could.
“I love you too, Muh-mee,” she yawned, one eye opening just a little. “The light?”
My hand was shaking furiously, and I felt as if I was about to pass out. None of it seemed real. What if she didn’t get my message? Her words echoed in my mind, “I don’t get this story.” Would she ever get it? Would she hate me; the selfish abandoning mother?
I winced as the ring tightened around my finger, the pain now nearly unbearable as its thorns scraped against bone.
My time was up, and It was coming to collect.
I turned off the light and carefully closed the door before rushing to my bedroom, where I sat on the bed and covered my messy sobs with a pillow.
I’ll never see her again. Never.
Suddenly, I was deeply aware of a musty smell, like old clothes abandoned in the closet for far too long. In seconds, the room went from feeling like a mild summer night to the unpleasant chill of winter, and goose bumps gathered on my arms and neck.
I let the pillow slowly slide from my face until it fell to the carpet and stared at the door. Moonlight bled faintly through the curtains, and my foggy breath further obscured my blurred vision. With a squint, I saw two small crimson orbs slowly approaching me in a graceful, smooth motion.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized It had come.
I wanted to scream, to run away, to throw something at the damn thing. Anything but wait passively in my bed. And, yet, that was precisely what I did.
The circles grew as the thing neared me, and I saw It was covered in a dark robe, its exact features hidden from sight by an oversized cowl that obscured most of its face. The faintly illuminated outlines of a dreadful grin on a marble-skinned bony chin were all I could see.
It was so close to me now that I could faintly smell rot and decay emanating from within its robes, the stench of musk nearly overwhelming now. It paused, staring at me.
“PACTUM CLOSUM,” It said in a heavily accented raspy voice.
A closed deal, it had said, mirroring the inscription on the inside of the old ring.
“A deal’s a deal, right?” I said, feeling a rush of relief peeking through the fear.
The thing ignored me and arched its bony arms as if preparing to greet an old friend. My vision blurred and I felt its icy embrace close around me, drawing me into the darkness.
I lost track of time and place, and in a few heartbeats, I could not even recall my own face or name. Nothing remained but the face of a sweet child sleeping peacefully.