Something’s Off About Mary

The child came from nowhere it seemed. One moment Frank was alone, watching an ancient can of baked beans heat over the campfire, and the next the girl was there, standing at the tree line. 

Frank jolted to his feet when he saw her, his rifle in hand before he even really thought to pick it up. The next moment and his weapon was shouldered and aimed at the young girl, who did not seem particularly bothered by his doing so. She stood stock still, and Frank wondered how long she had been there that way, watching him.

“What are you doing, girl?” He boomed. She did not react, only continued to stand silent, her eyes catching the orange flames. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, seemingly entranced by the glowing heat. She was dirty and ragged looking, but her pale skin beneath the dirt almost reflected the fire light.

Frank looked warily around, keeping a sharp eye and ear for any movement in the woods around him. This would not be the first time he’d seen a group use a child for bait so they could rob someone blind, or worse. But no such group came.

The two remained in a standoff for another long moment, the fire crackling between them. Frank, unsure what to do, began to shift uncomfortably before he lowered his weapon ever so slightly.

“Can I help you?” He called out in the same gruff voice, his breath coming out in clouds. The silent girl took a shaky breath and nodded almost imperceptibly in the vague light.

Frank noticed then the way the girl was breathing shakily, and the way she was trembling in the cold, her slender shoulders bare beneath the ragged tank top she wore. 

Frank licked his chapped lips nervously as he looked around again, sensing no other presence than the girl. Against the gnawing feeling in his stomach, Frank lowered his rifle, his grimy hands shaking slightly. The girls eyes were on him, locked onto every small movement Frank made as he shifted uncomfortably. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, a touch of concern in his voice despite his pounding heart. 

The girl shook her head in the same half motion as before, and something about the movement unsettled Frank. But she was only a child he told himself, trying to shake away his instincts. Frank eyed her, weighing the situation for a long while before hesitantly dropping his gun and sitting, slow and unsure back on the log he’d dragged over. He waved for the girl to come to him, his guard still up for the moment.

She came to the fire gratefully, nearly running to reach out and warm her hands over the flames. Frank watched her all the while, trying to make sense of the strange child before him.

“So what hole did you crawl out of?” He asked the bedraggled girl after a few minutes of silence had passed.

Her shiny eyes flicked up to him, but made no sign that she was going to answer. She was beautiful beneath the grime, Frank noted. Wide eyes and smooth porcelain skin. It was a dangerous way to look in this world.

“Not much of a talker I see,” he drifted, and carefully removed the hot can from the flames. He was beginning to relax slightly. She’s just a child, he told himself again, a skinny one at that.

“Tell you what. You tell me your name and we can have dinner,” he said, tapping the can.

It was the girl’s turn to look at him with an untrusting eye now, as if he had been the one to turn up at her camp in the middle of the night. Still, she gathered her breath to speak, as if she had not done so in a long time.

“Mary,” the girl said shortly.

“Frank,” he nodded, and they returned to their silence.

He fished a worn plate and a couple dirty utensils from his backpack then, giving them a cursory scrub with his fingers. He poured out a small plate for the girl and passed it around the fire to her, keeping the can for himself. She took it in her slender fingers and sat, placing the plate in her lap.

The two ate in silence, or at least Frank did. Something was… off about Mary. She only seemed to want to push the beans around her plate, though she surely had to be hungry.

“You sick or something?” Frank said gruffly, wiping a bit of food from his beard. He would not allow himself to fall ill, especially by the fault of a stranger. Child or not, he would make her leave.

“No I just don’t like to eat this kind of stuff usually,” She said in a low, almost melodic voice.

Frank stopped mid-chew upon hearing her speak, surprised not only by the amount she had spoken, but by the stark contrast between her sweet voice and her rough appearance. He swallowed hard.

“Well that’s too bad,” Frank said, dipping his spoon back into the can, feeling a bit annoyed at the girl. “You can’t be too picky in this life,” he said and continued to eat.

“I picked you,” she said quietly.

Frank wrinkled his brow, looking confusedly into his beans, trying to decipher what the girl had said.

“You picked me? What does that mean?” He asked, looking up at her through the flames.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. She was on her feet and grinning at him with a wide, sinister smile. Her teeth gleamed in the light, white as pearls, sharp as knives.

"I mean I chose you," she said in that sweet, unsettling voice, her eyes dark against the light.

Frank nearly choked and reached for his gun, cursing that he had put it down at all. When he righted himself not a second later he nearly jumped from his skin. The girl was standing beside him, somehow having reached him in complete silence.

“What the hell..” was all he managed before the girl was on him. She knocked him backwards off the log with a force that betrayed her looks, and Frank hit the ground with a powerful thump, his can of beans spilling out beside him.

His eyes went wide as he felt her razor teeth sink into his neck. He struggled and screamed, gripping her skinny, freezing arms and trying vainly to detach the girl from himself. But it was no use. Mary stuck to him with superhuman strength. Still he fought hard, kicking and writhing while she bit into him like an animal. 

With each pull of blood the girl took, his strength was sapped more, and he soon felt himself fading from consciousness. He fought until he could no more, and with one last useless push, his arms fell to the cold ground around him. 

Only then did she release, and Frank watched her through his blackening vision. She looked down at him with that unnerving smile of hers, her pearly teeth stained red now. 

It was the last thing Frank saw before drifting into a swirling blackness. He could not see, but he could still feel a burn like nothing he’d ever known before. His veins were lit on fire, his neck felt as though it was going to melt off him. He wanted to writhe in agony, to scream but couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. He had no body, but he could still feel the pain. There was nothing else.

Until there was a voice. It echoed around him, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere.

”You’ll feel better soon,” it said, soft and lilting.

He did not believe it. He was sure he would be stuck there forever, suspended in his own personal Hell, doomed to suffer for eternity. He screamed in silence for a time that was impossible to judge. It could have been years for all he knew, writhing all the while.

He stayed there for what felt like forever, until by some miracle the pain began to fade. It left him slowly at first, and then all at once, until it was nothing but a memory. He felt the endless darkness quiver and begin to fall apart around him.

Suddenly an orange light was thrust upon him, and Frank awoke with a great shuddering breath. He found himself on the ground where he had died either a moment or a lifetime ago, he could not be sure.

The only thing that he was sure of was Mary peering down at him, her sharp mouth still drenched in red, that wicked grin still spread across her face.

“Thanks for dinner,” she laughed.