What Is Love?

The Dancing Queen

As Cassie continued to thrash in frightened anguish, there was a bang and Witney sucked in a breath. Her daughter, amidst her frenetic motions, slammed her arm against the headboard. Once again, she swallowed down the want to wake her, comfort her - something they were told could do more harm than good.

"How is she?"

"Mark, babe, I thought you were asleep, she's - "

"Witney, are you kidding right now? How can I sleep when both my girls aren't there with me?"

He gave her a saddened smile, watching too, as his daughter continued to cry out; it was no longer just moaning and groaning, screaming and crying, it was actual words, though majority remained intelligible.

"Bunnies....eat...I creeee....mommy, daddy...help!"

There was another bang, this time her leg.

"We can't help her," Mark stated, sinking to the floor and rubbing Witney's thigh.

"No, we can't."

"I hate this."

"Me too."
___________________

The next morning it was a struggle, as it was most days, to get their daughter up and ready. Both Mark and Witney were exhausted, one not more than the other, but, like every other day, they just had to live through it. Cassie was the most important thing to them; without her, they'd have nothing, no one, to live for - not even each other.

"Mommy," Cassie murmured, slowly standing from her bed as she rubbed her eyes, wobbling over to the bathroom. "Meet Daddy and I downstairs when you're done, okay my dancing queen?" Cassie nodded mutely, curls bouncing tiredly as she shut the door. "Mkay."

Witney couldn't help but smile, for her little girl must have forgotten, had a memory lapse. She was never a morning person, always groggy and disoriented - never having accumulated the suggested hours of sleep during a given night, these frequent terrors disrupting the normal pattern.

Hearing the steady trickle of water and the loud vibrations of her electric toothbrush, Witney felt calm, hoping that this day would be one that her daughter remembered, one that she would appreciate. Today was her sixth birthday. Oh, how time flies! Was that what Mark always said?

"Cassie?" Mark asked without turning around, with Witney still halfway up the stairs. In reaction to his questioning, she gripped the handrail and sighed as she finished her decent.

"Acts as though it never happened, she's excited for her special birthday breakfast though. She told me. You better get on it Daddy."

Mark smirked, flipping a pancake over in the pan as he answered: "first batch is almost done, and I just made the orange juice. It's in the fridge. The blueberry drizzle is on the table." Then, "She doesn't remember calling out for help? Anything about bunnies? Nothing?"

Witney shook her head. "The doctor said they were just repressed images, things her brain blocks out instinctually. Like trauma or something. It's normal behavior for people like her."

"People like her," Mark repeated, "she's just a child."

"I know, but - "

"She's just a child, Witney. OUR NORMAL, HEALTHY BABY GIRL!"

Witney flinched, for Mark was never one for raising his voice, was never one to let his emotions get the best of him.

"Mommy, Daddy? Why are you yelling? Please love each other like you love me," Cassie pleaded from the bottom step, her expression fearful, with a sticky rheum settled like sand in the corners of her oceanic eyes.