I hate Light: A Short story

“I hate light” she shouted. That’s all we were hearing from her for the last hour. She was hiding in there since morning all alone in the storeroom. The moment dad opened the door and switched the light on all we could hear was Emma screaming her heart out, we couldn’t see her anywhere in there. “She must be hiding in there in her usual spot,” I said, ‘Let me go in there, just keep the lights off its freaking her out. Saying that I grabbed a torch and went downstairs, I was right she was hiding behind that pile of laundry. ‘Emma is that you, baby boo I’m here c’mon let’s just go upstairs, Four hours are way too much for playing hide and seek” saying this I grabbed the quilt cover pulling it off. There she was sitting all cuddled up but terrified as hell as if she had seen a ghost. The quilt cover was all drenched but with what. Is she crying¿ but how could a 4-year-old cry this much that a quilt cover gets so soaked in. For that moment worst possible scenarios passed my mind ‘You are freaking me out hun’ saying this I picked up the flashlight to inquire. The moment I turned it on ‘Stopppppppp’ she shrieked as I moved forward and BANG. She whipped the washing machine wire at me targeting my face little did I know that her mere target was the light source but whatever she did was ample enough to infuriate me. ‘Enough of these tantrums’ vexed I. ‘Lucas what’s wrong¿ just bring her up here let us deal with her. Bring her to me’ yelled mom. And that was a command. I leaned down grabbed her, tightening my fists against her utmost urges to free herself. As I stepped up it was all dark. Mom and dad had turned off all the lights just to ease her as lights seemed to trigger her weird flex. Though it wasn’t completely dark as there was still a hint of sunlight seeping through making it convenient enough to move around. Emma was a lot calmer too, she had rather dozed off. ‘Where do I put her?’ I asked. ‘There on that couch’ mom said whilst pointing at the sofa in the living room. I did as told. The moment I stepped back to glance at Emma, ‘What’s wrong with her? Baby! Emma are you alright. What are these patches on her face? Lucas. Is it blood? Lucas? Is it blood all over her clothes? Did you do something down there.’ cried, mom. I stood there stunned glaring at her blood-stained clothes and the patches all over her skin meanwhile something clicked in Dad's mind and he drew the curtains. What happened next was nothing but horror: Clusters of blisters popping here and there on her skin. Giving rise to hue and cry in our house and igniting the battle of blaming the stepbrother aka LUCAS (me).

A cool peaceful morning was something she wanted for so long. Something that every inch of his body was craving for. This was something that she deserved now. This all should get over already. Emma had been lying in their bedridden for a fortnight or so in a minutely subconscious state, fighting the battle all alone. The physical pain and mental agony had traumatized her she didn’t open her eyes not if there were some sights worth seeing around her; because as per her condition the room was barred from any possible light source. No one was allowed to see her; it wasn’t like we could see her either, that badly bruised baby skin turning blue and black would make us want to rip our eyes out. Doctors were still clueless; they hadn’t come up with a diagnosis yet. The hospital Panel had called on teams from other hospitals in the state. With every passing minute, the situation seemed to get out of hand, Emma was going low on vitals, and rumors in neighbors were messing up with my vitals and patience too. The speculation that she had been haunted by a stray ghost or something was enough to break anyone into a fit of laughter. Another gossip that was talk of the town, the one that received most views and likes was the one staring at me. Every other person seemed to have honored me with the culprit crown as I was the one who was last seen with Emma before all these blisters decided to appear. All these words pinched me hard I would have lost my mind if dad didn’t support me. I convinced him to let me meet Emma. As we planned he took me to her room at midnight because mom did day shifts. I went in and sat right next to that little angel and whispered in her ear, not even after many attempts. I couldn’t contain and burst into tears. “Lucas don’t, let's go she’s not conscious,” said dad. We were at the door when we heard that brittle voice behind us “Nana” “Nana” and she dozed off again. We both looked at each other, things had started making sense. Nana lived on the street right next to ours. She was a retired doctor who worked for a Russian Laboratory. We loved spending time at her place, mixing liquids, getting fascinated by colors and smells we created, and using burette and pipit which otherwise no one would allow us. Emma spent the last night at her place before this all happened. We rushed to her place the door was wide open. “Nana are you there? Nana” said dad while searching the hallway. “Oh no! No! No!” dad came racing to me in the living room. I handed the letter over that she had left. The crux of which was Emma had mistakenly ingested a poisonous secret weapon Nana was preparing for Russian Army that day and Nana can never forgive herself for this because its only cure was “DEATH”.