As Gwen stood in her bedroom, near the dresser, folding clothes from the laundry basket, she looked over at her husband, Malcolm. He was sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone.
"Josie seemed upset earlier," she said, worried. "And I'm certain you might know why."
There was a long silence before Malcolm spoke.
"She wants to quit therapy."
"Then let her." The moment the words left Gwen's mouth, Malcolm's expression made her regret them.
His eyes flashed with anger.
"Do you even hear yourself?" He frowned. "Our daughter is going through something that's clearly very traumatic for her, and you want us to just give up on her?"
"It's not Josie I want to give up on," she said, trying to choose her words carefully now. "It's the therapy. It's been two months, and we've not seen any changes. She's just as scared and miserable as ever. If anything, the therapy is making things worse."
Malcolm's eyes darted around the room, as if searching for something. "What about the curse?" He asked in a low voice.
Gwen sighed. "There is no curse, Malcolm. Leila died years ago, and with her went any supposed curses. The fading of the curse mark on your chest was proof that our family is free of any curses from the Lunates. Our daughter is going through something traumatic—a phase, maybe and she needs her parents, not a therapist. Besides, what has Josie got to do with the curse?"
Meanwhile, Josie still laid on the ground in her room, sobbing. The screams in her head persisted. They were deafening, unbearable. She let out a scream—a scream of frustration and horror as the voices continued to assault her. Her whole body trembled, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, clutching it tightly to herself to become as small as possible.
"But... what if we're wrong?" Malcolm asked with a voice laced with uncertainty, "What if—"
A bloodcurdling scream from Josie's room cut his words.
Gwen and Malcolm abandoned their tasks and hurried to her room. They found her curled up on the floor beside her bed, hugging her knees tightly. Her eyes were wide and red, and tears streamed down her face.
"M-mom...?" she stuttered.
Gwen sat down on the floor next to her daughter, pulling her closer and cradling her in her arms. "It's okay, honey," she murmured, stroking Josie's hair as she held her close. "I'm right here." Josie clung to her mother, her body still shaking as she sobbed. Gwen looked up at Malcolm, who stood by the door, rooted to the spot, a look of horror on his face.
* * *
As the family gathered around the dinner table, the clicking of cutleries against ceramic plates filled the atmosphere. No one talked, rather, they exchanged glances. Josie kept her eyes fixed on her plate of assorted chicken, trying to avoid the piercing gazes of her older siblings, Mason and Kira, who preferred to be referred to as 'Irish twins' rather than the random 'siblings' some call them.
Irish twins; a pair of siblings born usually less than twelve months apart. In their case, Mason was birthed first, on the nineteenth of July, and Kira, exactly two months after. Gwen often recounted to them the discomfort of having a baby remain in your womb to go for another span after pushing out the first. Their physical features were similar; they both had ocean blue eyes, an almost black hair, same oval-shaped face only that Mason's was broader, had a slightly jutting cheekbones and a sharp jawline.
"Dad, is Josette okay?" Mason finally broke the silence. "She seems upset."
Gwen and Malcolm looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. "I don't know, Mason," Malcolm said at last. "I can't read minds, you know."
"Mom, dad, what happened to her back there?" Kira asked, her eyes searching her parents' faces for answers. "Mason and I thought we heard her scream, but you both said nothing happened when we came up to check."
"Plus, mom sent her tutor back saying 'Josie isn't well'." Mason added.
Josie kept using her cutleries to push her meal around on the plates as they spoke. She slammed her fist on the table and snapped.
"Y'all should stop talking about me like I'm not here!"
They all paused and looked up at her.
She had gotten their attention, and she thought she had to make her request now. Setting down the cutleries, she took a deep breath and looked up at her family.
"I want to go to school," her words sounded more like a demand than a request. "A real school."
Gwen's and Malcolm's eyes widened, taken aback by Josie's request. A surprised look passed between them.
"I don't want to be homeschooled anymore," she continued, her voice breaking. "I want to have classmates, make friends." She looked at her parents, her eyes pleading with them to understand. "I want to be a normal teenager."
"You are a normal teenager." Gwen leaned over the table, reaching out to touch Josie's hand. "But we're worried about your safety. There are a lot of dangerous people out there, and we want to protect you."
Malcolm nodded in agreement to his wife. "I'm sorry, Josie, but we'd have to decline," He said. "It's for your own safety."
Her heart sank, a lump forming in her throat. She swallowed.
"But... why?" A frown crowded her small forehead. "I don't understand. Why can't we attend a school like everyone normal person in West Hills?"
"There are dangerous people out there, Josie," Malcolm said. "We're just trying to keep you safe."
Josie fidgeted in her seat, frustration and disappointment bubbling up inside her. She knew her dad wouldn't change his mind. He was a man that barely changes his decision and she knew that no matter how much she argued, it would not change anything.
But then she remembered what Maggie had said: 'Drastic measures are always a good companion.' And an idea formed in her mind.
She took a deep breath, mustering all her courage. She banged her fist on the table as she rose from her seat so fast that her chair nearly tumbled. Without a word, she marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving her parents staring at her in confusion.
"Josie, where are you going?" Gwen called after her, but she didn't respond.
"Get back here right now!" Malcolm commanded. Jumping to his feet and tossing his napkin aside, he followed her.
He ran up the stairs and paused in his tracks. His breath remained in his chest for a while before it began coming out in ragged gasps. The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. The hallway opened to a vast balcony at the extreme and Josie was standing there on the other side of the balcony railing, facing the quiet street. Her grip on the metal behind her was the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground far below her.
"Josie..." He called quietly. "What are you doing? Please, come back inside!" Tears filled his eyes as he stared at her, walking slowly towards her, afraid that he might startle her.
Josie's face was pale, her eyes wide but unseeing. Hanging on the railing, she felt like a shell—a shell of herself; the girl she had once been. She closed her eyes and imagined the life she had dreamed of outside her house walls.
Malcolm's heart ached, and he thought of all the times he had argued with her rather than listen. The times he had pushed her away rather than pull her closer. And now, her life was hanging by a thread.
"Stay back!" Josie cried out, throwing a look over her shoulder.
Malcolm had now reached the balcony and was advancing towards her. "If you come any closer, I'll jump!"
"Please, don't," he pleaded. "I'm so sorry. I was just... I was just trying to do what is best for you."
He was now sobbing but silently.
"You don't understand." she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't keep living like this. I can't spend the rest of my life trapped in this house, never getting to experience the world. I've always done what you wanted, always tried to be your 'perfect little Josie'. But what about me? What about what I want?"
"You're unhappy, I get it." Malcolm wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I've done things; things I'm not proud of, and I'm scared… I don't want any of my children to carry the burdens of my wrongs, that's why I keep you lot close so I can protect you. Please, let me help you. Take my hand." He took a deep breath, his trembling hands stretched towards her.
"Okay, Josie," he said. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll consider enrolling you in a real school. Just please, come back to me."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
After a moment's hesitation, Josie reached out and grasped her father's hand. With a tug, he pulled her to himself, away from the rail, and held her in a tight embrace. She sobbed quietly in his chest, her tremors sent a chill down his spin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of his family standing behind the transparent door, sighing and holding to their chests in relief. He hadn't noticed when they came and wondered if they'd been there the entire time. But he was glad they had let him handle the situation on his own. He returned his eyes to his daughter, who was still sobbing softly in his arms.
"You're safe now," he whispered, stroking her hair.
This was the day he feared—a day he knew would surely come. Mason and Kira had been homeschooled and abided by the family rules of 'home always' and 'have no friends', but he knew Josie was exactly like him; self-willed and a rule breaker. He knew that day would come, but he thought, it came too soon and now he's worried about her; the curse; what it might do to her and the people around her.