Chapter Five, Part ThreeMature

Think Harry, I told myself, tamping down on my hysteria. Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink. Don’t do this. Don’t alarm her. 

But I looked down at the lump in the blankets, and felt the blood drain from my face.  

“Maggie,” I said, scrubbing a hand over my face as I stared slightly away from Maggie’s head and at a lamp near the door, avoiding the possibility that I might Soul Gaze my daughter, “I love you like Molly loves gore movies and Mouse loves drooling. Now go find Aunty Charity. Daddy needs to... look for, uh... bedbugs. I don’t want you to get bitten, lose a pint of blood and turn into a zombie, ‘kay? Hop Scotch kiddo, make it so!”  

Well shit.  

I oughta be in pictures. 

I waved my arm straight ahead like Captain Kirk, then smiled at her as she stared at me for a moment, then down at her new Splattercon little girls size tee before going out the door and shutting it quietly behind her. 

As I listened, I made a mental note to myself: Must remember to kill Molly later for exposing my daughter to, you know, all the cool stuff. Like dark tee shirts and tabasco popcorn.


The End

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