out of the bag my father had packed for me and look for the spot where I left off.
Dr. Carroll found his efforts to be futile and therefore chose not to examine my daughters. There was nothing to be done to heal them by his power. He went on his way and I resumed my words with my dearest Emma.
I began by asking her of the previous evening. I wanted to know everything that she had seen both in the barn and in her sleep. She informed me that she had seen nothing in the barn and only awoke when she heard the screams of the witch. I turned my questioning to what she had encountered in her sleep. I once again spoke of the little girl whom Emma had informed me was a witch.
“Did you speak to the young girl?”
She looked deep into my eyes and withheld her response. I reassured her that anger would not be forthcoming. The information she could provide would give us the knowledge to save her mother and sisters from death. Her gaze never broke.
“Papa, we cannot save them. I tried to find them, and I nearly did, but each time I grew near they became frightened and ran more.”
My only response was that we must try to save them all, no matter the consequences.
The day went about with many struggles. I fought sleep off throughout. The terror of not returning to my waking state was the only thing keeping me awake. I paced our home, fearful of exiting, fearful of sleeping, fearful of losing my family, and most fearful of leaving Emma alone in the world.
“Does it creep you out at all that you have the same name as the girl in this story? And that your dad has the same name as the dad in the story?” Zoë asks.
“Maybe a little. Maybe we are just named after them. Or it could just be a coincidence.”
“Yeah. A coincidence.” She grips the wheel tighter and sighs.
While preparing the evening meal for Emma, the thought occurred to me that she had escaped her slumber. She had not succumbed to the same fate as her mother and sisters had. There had to be a reason for that. I dropped everything I was doing and rushed to her side near the fire, where she toyed with her dolls. Grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her toward me, I asked, “Emma, how did you wake up? How did you escape?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Papa, I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s a secret.”
I shook her gently to emphasize the urgency of why I must know. “Emma, you are forbidden to keep secrets from me. I command you to tell me at once how you did it!”
The tears streamed down her face. “I can’t Papa! If I do, the witch will curse me to a fate worse than Mama's!”
I raised my voice and pressed my hands tighter into her shoulders. “There is no fate worse than your mother’s! The witch is dead and gone. I killed her myself! Tell me now, how did you awaken?”
She burst into tears and spoke through her sobs. “The little girl told me what to do. She said if I told anyone else how to do it then she would tell her mother and I would never escape her, not even in death. I would always be reborn into the same life for all of eternity. The witch would always curse me and the curse would grow stronger with each life I lived. I would never know happiness or love, only fear and loss.”
I was instantly taken aback by the words she had spoken. Words that she had never known the meaning of until this moment; words so profound that no child could possibly understand their meaning. “Emma, I promise you that will not happen. Do you want me to go away just as your mother has and leave you here alone? How will you care for yourself? How will you get food and water?”
Her sobs continued. “Emma! You must tell me! I need to be here to care for you and to keep you safe!”
After what felt like an eternity of sobbing and pleading, she finally gave in. My grip loosened and she fell to her knees and curled herself up as if she were an infant clinging to its mother.
“Waking up is easy. All you have to do is remember who you are. You must feel yourself in your body.