Our Little Secret

“I had a weird dream last night.” Marian said. “I woke up, but I was still dreaming… I hallucinated that a serial killer was fondling me, but when I came to, it was just Lucky, resting his paws on my chest.”

“Kinky.”

“Harold!”

Alice, short for mother, hit him on the shoulder. I raised my fork to take a bite of my massive chocolate chip pancakes.

“Haven’t you had enough, Ariel?” Harold muttered.

This wasn’t exactly old news—my dad valued women on their looks, and by conservative American standards, I did not look the part. And as much as I wanted to shove a knife through his skull, I knew when to pick my battles.

“Easy Harry. Let her enjoy it.” My Uncle Max rebutted. His visits were seldom, but he was the one family member that I got along with. We were intellectuals, our eyes on the horizon. I just happened to be cursed with deadweight idiots as my family. But at this point, through years of dealing with them, I just let them have their way.

“I’ll save it for later.”

Marian took delight in this. She was the favorite; prettier, with blown out blonde hair and a better figure to my messy brown curls, and second round of puberty body; a flirty extrovert to my ambiversion; and she was dumber, more submissive to the whole man is the breadwinner, wife is the home tidier dynamic. I didn’t pity her for being a toy. Frankly, she was a bitch.

We left IHop shortly after. Max farewelled early, saying he had to get a head start. We cruised through the plains of Tabernacle, New Jersey, a backwoods town with just enough suburbs to make it seem like you weren’t living in an obscure Idaho transplant. Around here, you were either a bumblefuck townie, or not, like myself. But being an or not meant relentless heckling. If you submitted, like I had, it happened less.

We pulled into our humble, slowly decaying two-story abode, when my dad noticed the rather yellow and dry nature of the front lawn remnants.

“Ariel, go turn the sprinklers on.” Harold demanded.

I walked through the garage, entered the kitchen, shot straight and banged a left to arrive at the basement, where I trudged into the dusty, unrenovated abyss. It was dully lit, hoarding some boxes from my dead grandparents. I skipped over towards said boxes, since the sprinkler system was over there.

I heard something scurry.

I turned to see what it was—somehow, it was Lucky, my Australian Shepherd, hiding under the stairs. “Lucky! How’d you get down here bud?” Lucky barked, trotted over. As an outcast, I found solace in my friendship with my dog. I know you’re probably imagining that I’m the weird girl who pets the dog at a house party—but it’s not my fault most people are boring.

I turned the sprinklers on. Lucky kept barking. For whatever reason, I turned the long way around to see him--and noticed a little black notebook, shoved halfway into one of the boxes. Lucky grew as quiet as I did. Curiosity got me, and I opened it up. Poor handwriting, good organization. Each page was dated, starting mid-spring.

“D1 to the kitchen, 1140”

“D2 in her room all day”

“F and M sex before dinner”

The next day was more of the same. D1, D2, F, M…

Daughter 1. Daughter 2. Father. Mother…

**********************************************************************

The police were thorough, but they found nothing. Harold grew red in the face, said some words out of frustration. But for once, he was justified. We were all terrified. A notebook detailing our movements for the last four months, tucked away in a box in our basement. Someone was watching us. Living among us.

And they still could be.

Lucky peed on the carpet during said frustrations, which led to a smack on the head, and a boot outside. I was nervous for my friend. It was a cold night. The aged doghouse would do little to keep him warm. So later that night, after the entertainment left, I snuck outside to let him in.

Our fenced backyard was roughly an acre. My dad wanted boys, so he bought a house with a backyard that would be fitting to having catch. Instead, it bore a garden, a long-abandoned tree house, the dog house, and a grill master’s patio—middle class level. I went towards the back left, where the garden and doghouse were, looking for Lucky.

“Lucky!” I whispered. Nothing. “Lucky!”

He wasn’t in the doghouse. Now, Lucky had a habit of escaping. He liked to dig under the fence. But I went over to his usual spot… and there was no freshly displaced dirt. I fell back to the center, when I heard something over by the treehouse.

“Lucky!” I whispered. The sound stopped. As I grew closer, the sound intensified. Lucky was rapidly digging beneath the tree house. “Lucky!”

Lucky snapped his head to me—and growled.

“C’mon! Let’s get you inside.”

Lucky snarled at me. Apparently, disrupting digging was grounds for—

There was something in the hole.

I went to look, but he snapped at me. There was a plastic bag, but it had something in it. I didn’t want Lucky to choke on it. I pretended to back away—then quickly dived and yanked it out. He grew nasty. I bolted up towards the house. Lucky on my tail. As I got close to the door, he bit me on my ankle. I yelped, kicked him right in the snout.

“Ow! Sorry!”

He wasn’t deterred.

I dodged inside, slid the door shut. Lucky smacked against it. I scurried back to my room. Not quite the journey I’d expected, but alas. The black plastic bag was very tightly knotted. I decided to just rip it open.

$100 bills started falling out. $20,000’s worth to be exact.

I ran through what to do with it, then thought about my dad at breakfast. I stuffed it in an old shoebox.

**********************************************************************

The next day I tiptoed around Harold and Alice. Marian was doing fuck all, and if she ever came across it, I could convince her the sky was falling. But Lucky was… curious. He followed me all over. I guess he wanted to know what I did with his buried treasure.

Late that night, after he tirelessly was by my side, buddying up, I did notice that this one black spot on his gums had gone away.

I awoke from a bad dream to see a man in my room, rummaging. I screamed. Loudly. He bolted away. Within a minute, the lights were on. Everyone came in, Lucky leading the way.

“What?” Harold barked.

“There was a man in my room!” I shouted. He grew tense, looked off to the side. But then tension became anger. “What’s that?” He retorted. Confused, I looked in the direction he was looking.

The shoebox.

I couldn’t even form a sentence before he was upon the money, counting it. Alice watched, bewildered. Marian tried her best to process.

“Where the hell did you get this?” Harold asked.

“Lucky… Lucky was digging—”

“The dog? Yeah, and I shit rainbows.”

“It’s true! And there was a man, I’m telling the—”

“It was probably the same type of dream I had.” Marian said. Harold grew feverish. He swiped the shoebox, stormed downstairs. I and the rest of the group quickly followed. Lucky leading the way.

We arrived in the office, where Harold cracked the safe, counting away. I was surprised by how much my dad chose to keep in a safe versus, you know, the bank. But, he did have a fear that another depression would occur, and a run on banks would—

“You BITCH!” Harold stormed to me. “How did you get in here?!”

“I didn’t!”

The slap stung.

**********************************************************************

I was locked in my room as punishment the next day. At dinner time, the garage opened, and the car departed. Within five minutes of them leaving, I bust out of my room. I wasn’t going to starve for telling the truth.

I wandered down into the kitchen, grabbed a snack. As punishment, Harold had gone and chucked most of the good stuff—gummy worms, pretzels, fruit roll ups—but some old Easter candy was stuffed away. Why not. I grabbed a few chocolate balls and—

I heard something. From the far side of the house. Terrified, I crept closer. It was coming from the office. The safe. I peaked around the corner. A… familiar face.

“Uncle Max?”

“Ariel—what are you…”

“…they left me. Punished. I came down for a snack.” The safe was cracked open. He frantically put the money back. “How did you…”

The garage door started opening. He was oddly calm.

“Ariel.” Uncle Max mumbled quietly. “This can go one of two ways.”

“Max…”

“They won’t believe you.” Uncle Max pleaded.

The door opened. Harold complained about leaving his wallet.

Max oddly calmed. “Ariel… I’m warning you. Don’t do this.”

“MOM! DAD! COME QUICKLY!” I whipped back around. But he was gone. And in his place was…

Lucky?

Harold, followed by Marian and Alice, stormed over, taking in the scene. Their daughter. The dog. And the safe.

Wide open.

**********************************************************************

They locked me in the basement with an air mattress, a jug of water, and a bucket to relieve myself in. I desperately tried hatching a plan, trying to do SOMETHING to make them believe me. Lucky is a shapeshifter that is actually Uncle Max. They can’t be in the same place at the same time. If I could get my parents to call—no, he’d just answer later. Take a photo? Didn’t have my phone. Time felt like a luxury.

The basement door swung open. “LEARN TO PEE OUTSIDE!” The door slammed. My heart stopped. Slowly, I heard his footsteps scurry down. I grabbed a 2x4 near me. We stayed like this for about ten minutes, before Lucky became Max. I raised the board, like I was going to do something.

“I wouldn’t do that. After all, one bark and you’re off to the asylum.” He whispered. I fought off the tears. “I gave you a chance. If you had kept your mouth shut—”

“Screw you.” I choked out. “I thought you were my friend.”

He sighed, wandered to the side. “They’ve been talking about what to do with you, and none of the options seem…”

“How do you do it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

Max strolled to the other side. “You know the reasons. An asshole sibling. Unloving parents. Recently, I saw an opportunity, and I wanted to take it.” He took a few steps towards me, eyeing me.

“I wish you didn’t catch me. I was really enjoying my time here.” He said. “Especially your sister. She could have one of those dreams every night, and no one would bat an eye.” He looked me over. “You’re developing quite nicely, though.”

He’d somehow ended right in front of me. My body screamed for my flight or fight. But I was frozen.

“The way I see it, you’ve got three options. One, kill yourself. I’m uncompromised. You get a way out—albeit, bleak. Two, you can try to convince them. You won’t, and they’ll institutionalize you.”

I gulped. He stroked my face.

“Three—you could run away with Lucky. With me. At some point, I’ll come back and get the money.” He softly, menacingly smiled, caressing me. Sixteen was too young. I didn’t want to throw it away. But there wasn’t any way out of this. He was right. Either way, I’d be institutionalized.

But staying with him… if I could muster the courage… until I was 18… maybe find a job…

A tear ran down my face. He wiped it with his hand, which now cupped my cheek. A large part of myself died as I grasped his hand, terrified. He smiled horribly.

“It’ll be our little secret.”