It had been ages since I had taken my family on a vacation. There was hardly any time for that, what with work and the kids having tests and club activities but this time my wife had insisted that we go on a trip. “The girls need to spend some time as a family, we hardly even get to eat together these days John,” she said, and I could hardly argue with that.
So, here we are, hours away from home, in the middle of a forest while trudging our way through the hills, trying to find some rickety little cabin to spend our next few days in.
“You will love it! It’s a rustic old cabin that’s been there for centuries. Imagine the history it holds,” Anne squealed as she read through the brochure the receptionist had given her as we had entered the site.
“Sure dear, I’m sure the wild animals and mosquitos will leave us alone so that we can take in all the history in peace,” I muttered as I slapped another mosquito that had settled on me.
Anne shot me a dirty look and turned back to her brochure.
“Dad, how far is it?” My eldest daughter asked as she pulled on my jacket.
“Not too far, Grace. It’s just a few minutes away. Tired already?” I teased as I gently pulled her along.
“No!” She protested, “I was just asking for Emma. She’s the one who’s tired.”
“Oh, really?” I looked over at my younger daughter who seemed to be far more interested in her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Bunny, than anything else.
“Yes!” insisted Grace, her brown eyes alight in indignation.
“Grace…” Anne chided softly as she took her arm and lead her ahead before she could become truly cranky.
Sighing, I looked over at Emma who was playing with Mr. Bunny, lost to the world in her make-believe land.
“Emma?” I called out gently.
“Hmm…?”
“Are you alright?” I asked her.
“… yes.” She replied and went back to her little world. She had been this way for a while, lost and quiet. Since the time which has been labelled as “The Incident” by Anne. She has forbidden all of us from speaking of it. She feared that it would trigger Emma and cause further damage, but I wasn’t sure how it was her situation any better. I feared she was just retreating into herself further.
…
“Dad! Look, look, it’s the cottage!” Grace’s excited screams drew my attention from my worries, and I smiled back as I looked at her cheerful face. We had reached our destination it seems. My wife threw a relieved look towards me and walked quickly towards the cottage’s door to unlock it. We strode in and looked around excitedly.
It was a rustic and spacious old cottage with a sunny yellow coat of paint on it. There were three rooms with one being downstairs and two upstairs. We told the girls that they could each have a room, but they insisted on sharing one saying, “It’s scary sleeping alone!”
We left them to it. Anne and I took the room downstairs since it was larger and had a bathroom attached which made it convenient for us without having to share it with the girls.
Keeping our bags in our rooms we cleaned ourselves up and put together lunch since it was pretty much an isolated cabin in the woods, we were responsible for our own chores.
How is this a vacation anyways?
Afterward, Anne insisted that we all go out and explore the local forest. She took charge of Grace, and I took hold of Emma as we stepped out. Anne and Grace took off excitedly towards the trail while Emma and I kept a more leisurely pace.
“…so, Emma, how are you feeling?”
“I am doing fine dad.” She replied while gently holding on to Mr. Bunny.
“That’s good to hear. How’s Mr. Bunny doing?” I asked, gesturing to her constant companion.
“He’s good too, just a little grumpy.”
“Grumpy? Why?”
“Because Grace keeps bullying us, saying we are too old for a toy.”
“Really? Well, that’s not right, I’ll talk to her about it. You can have Mr. Bunny and as many toys as you like.” I replied earnestly as Anne called us over to look at something.
“Thanks, dad, but Mr. Bunny wouldn’t like it if I had other toys.” She replied seriously and walked off towards Anne.
Feeling slightly worried I watched her as she walked away, Mr. Bunny clenched tightly in her hand. It was just like every other stuffed rabbit we’d find in a store, white with large, goofy, black eyes and an adorable face. Yet somehow, I don’t even remember buying it.
…
It was a macabre scene, to see a school on fire. It was a haven of sorts, a school, somewhere we send our children to study and make friends. A home away from home where children get to make their futures into a reality.
To get a call from my wife, frantic and scared, saying that there was a fire, and our children were trapped inside was nothing short of my worst nightmares. I drove there as fast as I could but still, it was not fast enough. By the time I had reached there, my wife was crouching on the street holding the unconscious body of our younger daughter who had Mr. Bunny clenched in her hands.
Emma was in the hospital for a whole day before she regained consciousness, not for a single moment of that day did she let go of Mr. Bunny.
When she did come around to being awake, she kept repeating the same thing over and over again, “Mr. Bunny saved me.”
It was odd and no one could make any sense of it, so we chalked it up to the nervous ramblings of a young girl who was frightened.
But right now, I am not so convinced.
Since that day Emma was different. Anne wasn’t ready to see it at all, but it was true! She was quieter and more withdrawn. Only focused on that damn toy! And what was even odder was the fact that the room where the fire had originated, only had Emma and two other boys. No one made it out except Emma.
What truly happened that day?
Somehow, I feel as though I had lost a part of my daughter to that room too.
