The cries of roosters echoed through the neighborhood, alarm clocks began to ring in chorus. Lights began to flicker on, and groans were heard throughout the neighborhood. Isabella crept over to her new born baby brothers, while the voices argued.
“You see the book on the table Isabella, pick it up and hit him.” The first stated.
“Isabella, go back to bed sweetie right now!” the second one argued.
Young Isabella shook her head trying to make the voices stop at a tender age of five; she did not understand exactly what was happening to her. Isabella suffered from schizophrenia; her parents had no clue of her medical illness and blamed her weird behavior on her age. Kids her age always talked about their imaginary friends, they figured.
“Do it Isabella! Hit him! You’re a bad girl” the voice screamed.
Isabella could not resist the voice any longer; she crept over to the mahogany nightstand and grabbed the book labeled Nighttime stories, not big enough to drape the crib. Isabella shoved the book between the rims of the cradle, wakening up a sleeping Adam. Adam cried out and Isabella stood still, Ms. McCain ran in a fast as she could.
“Isabella what are you doing out of your bed? How did you get here.” She asked.
“I missed Adam mommy.” Isabella replied.
“How sweet hunny, but next time you want to see your brother you have t ask me to take you ok?”
“Alright mommy, Mrs. McCain walked her daughter back to room and tucked her into her twin sized bed, laying a kiss upon her forehead. She walked down the hallway, and climbed into her own bed greeted by Mr. McCain who was awake reading the newspaper.
“Honey, do you notices Isabella’s strange behavior?”
“Kind of, but she’s fives years old, she’s supposed to act a little strange. We all did honey.” He replied
“No, its just that when I came into Adam’s room, she was just standing there Phil, She did something, I know she did. Why would Adam cry randomily.”
“You’re over exaggerating Meg; Isabella’s fine, just get ready for work.” He replied.
Before Meg could continue to support her case the doorbell rang, it was Margarita the baby sitter; she was always early which the McCain’s were grateful for because it allowed them to both get dress for work without having to worry about Isabella and Adam.
“Margarita,” Mrs.Mccain whispered. Please keep your eye on Isabella she’s been acting weird lately.
“I will Senorita Margarita, you have a nice day at work,” she said copening the door so the McCain’s could leave without being late for work.
“Ay dios mio, thank god they left.” She muttered, while flopping down in the recliner chair and flicking the channels to her favorite novella Christina.
In her room Isabella, was awoken by the voices again. She reached for her favorite plush toy Benjamin.
“Put it down!” the voice demanded.
“No, it’s mine!” Isabella screamed.
“Put it down Isabella, or I’m going to make you get rid of it.”
“No please, please.” The little girl whimpered, her hands began to shake and tears rolled down her cheek. She reached for the only comfort she had which was Benjamin, little did she know it was her biggest mistake. Millions of ants began crawled up Isabella’s legs, biting her with each crawl. Isabella screamed at the top of her lungs and an angry Margarita marched in her room.
“Senorita estupida!” she yelled a phrase that was well to common to Isabella’s ears. Grabbing her by her shirt she pulled her into the kitchen where the red chair awaited for her. Isabella dreaded the chair, when Margarita was around it was way to familiar. Isabella began cry, she wanted her mother to come home so she could be in her arms, but the voices had other plans.
“Look at the stove Isabella, you see that tea kettle on the stove, its red and shiny?” the voice said
Isabella’s eyes darted to the stove, the flickering lights of the flame under called out to her. She knew mommy never allowed her to touch the stove, but it looked so inviting.
“Get the rag, Isabella its draped over the chair, now throw it in the fire.” the voice demanded.
Isabella threw the rag in the fire , and watched as the fire grew. Margarita pushed her way through the kitchen to Isabella, while Isabella watched what she had created, a smirk swept across her face.
Mission accomplished.
