Danny

“Come on, Andie. You couldn’t have done this.”

My gaze started at his black leather shoes, up his smart grey suit, and finally, we locked eyes. So tall, it put a crook in my neck. If you cut down a tree in the forest, would Principal Leary be around to hear it?

I shrugged. 

“If that’s what he said he saw, then that’s what he saw.” Almost a whisper. 

He let out the sigh he’d been holding in the entire hour. 

“Andie… this isn’t you. I’m on your side. Tell me what happened.” 

I’d told my story enough times. But I told it again. “At five, I walked to the bus. At five fifteen, it picked me up. At six, it dropped me off--”

“Andrew.” 

Sternly now. His face, a half-way point between concern and exasperation, reminded me of my mother’s. 

Men who father lost boys are different. They have a motive to bear new ways of thinking, to live vicariously through those with enough time to excel where they failed. I wasn’t sure what ghost Principal Leary saw in me. 

“I gotta go. Tell my mom what happened if you want.” 

He didn’t stop me. Still, I looked around after a minute afterward, to see if he’d change his mind.

I barely made it to the bus stop, the little light struggling on its post. My driver hit the brakes hard, knowing I was too young to leave behind. How old would I be the day he pushed harder on the gas? 

“Hey, Andie! You got out late.” 

“I needed some help with something.” 

I picked out a seat in the front, nearest to the mirrors, the ones drivers use to keep an eye out for passengers who wanted to stay the night. I stared into them, noticing my heart rate. I knew he would come out of the reflection. This was the only bus home. 

A scruff of black fabric caught my eye in the rear view mirror. He hid diagonal to my view, down the length of the vehicle, in the last seat. He felt my eyes, and straightened his back so I could see him clearly. Looking sick, I thought, as always. Tired and starving and sick. I felt bad for the kid. 

Sometimes.

He started to stand, white hands grappling with the railing. Thin legs carried him down the aisle, inching closer to me. The bus wriggled and shook, but as frail as he was, he never fell. I watched him choose a new seat in the middle, and curl back up into a ball. We rode silently after that, but I never looked away.

“This is where I say sayonara!” The driver’s cheery disposition was unsettling, and he seemed to glow with normalcy under the streetlamp. The great outside, I thought. I smiled when I said goodbye. 

I got off on my street, and I knew the bus doors wouldn’t fold in right away. I’d try my hardest to make it inside the house before he did. Every day was a rat race, and every night, I thought about what would happen if I lost. 

Tonight, another win. I set my bookbag on the kitchen counter and made myself walk into the dining room. My mother, in a peach sundress, was making me a plate in front of the television. 

“Hello, Andrew.” 

I nodded at her. I could tell she knew. 

“I got a call from your school today, honey. They said… they told me someone watched you hurt another kid.”

“Do you believe them?” I turned to stare at her. 

She seemed nervous. A pea fell off my plate and onto the carpet. I watched her step on it, rubbing green juice into the fibres. 

“Andie… I love you so much, you know I do. You’ve been getting into so much trouble lately.” 

I tsked. “I haven’t been getting into trouble.” 

Avoiding the smushed pea, I sat down in front of my dinner. Behind me, I heard the front door creak open, shut, and lock. Even the deadbolt hit the latch harder than usual. 

I watched my mother’s face carefully. She didn’t seem to notice, only began to fold and unfold a blanket, over and over. 

“I put Danny’s dinner in his room tonight, Andrew. So that we could talk.” 

My face glazed over as I watched my brother’s black hoodie float down the stairs to the basement. 

“I know you two didn’t… get along,” she choked, “but things need to get better. Soon.” 

Walking over to the basement door, my mother pulled out a key. She stared at it, watched the glint from the TV turn it different colors. Then, with a straight face, she stuck it into the lock, and turned her wrist. 

“Tell it that,” I spit, jerking my head toward the door. I immediately regretted it. 

My mother’s eyes began to well up, and before I could apologize, the welling turned to weeping. 

“He is my son, Andrew,” she wailed. 

I flinched hard.

“Mom…” I began, but I didn’t know how to continue. Somehow, although I’d never asked and she’d never offered, we both thought about it. A life without Daniel. A life free of what he was, whatever he was. 

There was no part of Danny that was Mom. There was no DNA in his blood that resembled hers, not that we’d ever tested it. Not that we’d ever bring him to a doctor. 

She calmed down then, and we ate in silence for a while. 

“How was school otherwise, my love?” 

A breath.

She kept on. “I’m sorry for getting upset. I just want to talk to you.”

I twisted a fork into my pasta, watching the roll grow larger and larger. “How does Danny get out of the basement? If you lock it, I mean?” 

“That’s not one of the topics I’d like to discuss, Andrew.” 

“Just tell me.”

She slammed her fork down, but I didn’t let up. 

“I mean, he’s the same age as me. I couldn’t pick a deadbolt.” 

Silence. 

I helped mom clean up dinner, and kissed her goodnight. I let her watch me go into my room. I let her believe I was asleep. 

That night, however ordinary the events, I stayed up. I felt the electricity in the air, the pressure in my ears. I wanted to see Daniel.  

We used to talk all the time. We were never close, but I tried my best to be his brother. His first word was my name, all his clothes used to be mine, he was special to me the way brothers ought to be. At five, we dared other children to tell us apart. At seven, the difference in weight began, and I carried him on my shoulders. At ten, I comforted him through all the incidents, the trouble at school, the issues at home. Then, he stopped speaking completely. 

Rain and time washed away the missing cat posters. 

I remember the first time I worried about Danny. At daycare, I watched him climb to the top of the jungle gym. He never smiled, he never played, I figured he was finally coming out of his shell. Then, he just… walked off the edge. He stepped forward on the bars until none were left, and rocketed face-first into the sand. 

I’d rushed over to him, but had to stop a few feet away. When he lifted his head, he was grinning. Tiny, white toddler teeth full of blood and sand and drool. 

I looked at the clock on my nightstand; half past midnight. Now was as good a time as any.

I walked into the kitchen, fishing around for the basement key. I looked on top of all the cabinets, the refrigerator, in jacket pockets and under the floor matts. Then, I saw it.

Floating happily on the edge of the kitchen counter, in plain sight, was the key to Danny’s room. Not hidden, not tucked under my mother’s pillow, just plopped right on top of the counter. 

I picked it up, feeling the jagged edge with my thumb. Was this on purpose? Did mom… want me to pay Danny a visit tonight? Is she expecting me to-- 

“Andrew.” 

I spun around, smashing my elbow on the oven handle. 

“Andrew, I'm talking to you. What are you doing out of bed?” 

“Hey, mom, you scared me,” I grunted, slipping the key into my palm, “I’m just getting some water.” 

She eyed the direction of the latch on the basement, moving her eyes up to the deadbolt on the front door. I swallowed. Handing me a bottle of water from the fridge, she said, “Bring a glass with you before you go to bed next time.” 

“Okay, sure. Goodnight, mom.” 

I walked over to my bedroom door while she turned around. Opening it, I made some noise with my feet, before closing it again from the outside. After seeing her light go out, I sat down in the hallway, and waited. 

I looked up at the microwave. One forty-five. I set my water down on the ground and felt the key through my pocket. Slowly, silently, I walked around the corner and through the dining room, reaching the basement. My head hurt from the sudden rush of blood to my temples. Taking the key out of my pocket, my hands were damp.

I hadn’t been in the basement since Danny began spending most of his time there. There was no explicit rule that I wasn’t allowed, but it was an unspoken sentiment that neither my mother nor I wanted to disturb him. We used to share a room before things got out of hand, before I woke up in the middle of the night to dead cats and his hard grin. 

Slipping the key into the lock, I reminded myself that he’d never physically hurt me before. Sure, having a live reenactment of every scary movie I’d ever watched did some psychological harm, but if I’d already seen it all, what was the worst that could happen?

On the other hand, I’d grown to resent him, with the kind of intensity that doesn’t go unreciprocated. 

I turned the key, feeling the tumblers suck the iron bolt from the wall. 

Now or never. 

When I opened the door, the stairway to the basement was black. After a few seconds of standing there, the motion sensor flooded the area with light, but not before I noticed that same darkness coming from Danny’s room. I began to second-guess myself. 

Was this wise? Was I about to wake a very unfeeling child, who shared half of his decapitated pet mouse with me, from a dead sleep?

Oh, poor Cheese.

But, I knew it was time. I also knew I wouldn’t do very well with someone who wore my face committing heinous acts all over town. Things needed to change. 

I walked down the steps, taking them slowly, the glow from the stairwell barely lighting my way. I saw his black hoodie on the wooden chair near the entryway, blue horses painted on the seat. I stepped around it, watching for movement. 

Looking around, I noticed toys everywhere. They were the ones we used to play with when we were small, set up as though they’d been played with recently. 

In the corner, there was a large, pretend phone booth. Inside, I saw him. 

Danny. 

Just… standing there.

It started quickly. His lips began to pull back over his teeth, black eyes going wide. Regret set in, but I wouldn’t let it fill me up. It was too late now. On with the show. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

Such a stupid question, one made out of liquid fear. He stayed still, grinning. I took a few steps closer. 

“I know you came to my school today. I saw you on the bus. Other kids saw you, too.” 

Nothing. 

I began to worry that this was a wasted effort. I could talk, but I wasn’t getting anything out of him. All I could do was beg him to stop, plead with him to leave me alone. I was acting tough, but the trembling in my hands was hard to ignore. 

I tried one last time.

“I need you to stop showing up at my school. I need you to leave my friends alone.”

He hadn’t blinked in so long. And, suddenly, it wasn’t fear that fueled me anymore, it was rage. 

“What are you? You’re not even… I mean, you’re not even a person.” I was gasping. My body shook. “You’re a-- a thing.”

I walked forward the rest of the way, my hands open toward the sides of the giant toy. To my surprise, my vision became blurry with tears.

“We shared a womb, you know? Mom doesn’t even say your name anymore.”

I wanted a reaction, evidence of humanity, anything. 

I got one. 

He started slowly, tapping on the clear plastic with open palms. Then, it became more aggressive, his fists pounding with all his weight, denting the toy. His grin remained, getting more severe with each passing moment. 

“Oh yeah?” I screamed, pounding back, “You wanna come out, Danny? Come out of the box, Danny!”

I felt insane. But I kept pushing, wanting to feel the plastic come out from under the shiny, red rim above. 

In an instant, I was in the air. My arms were in front of me, but I felt warmth wrap around my abdomen. I kicked behind me, realizing, in terror, that Danny was no longer in the box. My heels connected to whatever was holding me up, and I reached out in front of me, pulling myself into the phone booth. Gaining leverage, I landed one final blow to my captor and fell into the plastic booth. It knocked over horizontally, the small plastic dial pad digging into my skin when I landed. I looked up.

My mother. 

She was sobbing, screaming something I couldn’t hear. I broke out of the phone booth to warn her, shouting something close to nonsense about Danny. My fear had caught up to me, but I needed to get us both out of the basement. 

I grabbed her hand. “Mom, come on, we need to move! We need to get out of here, let’s go!” 

She followed too slowly, practically being dragged up the stairs. Finally, she stopped at the second to last step. I tried behind her, trying to push her up. “Mom?”

She was saying something through the ringing. Something was wrong, nothing was making sense, I had brain damage from the fall, I--

I started to read her lips. 

Danny. Danny what?

Danny is dead. 

“Danny is dead, Andrew. He’s not here anymore, he’s not real. Please, you need to wake up.”