Girl in the War Museum

The car crash didn't kill anyone. After all, most don't.
Kyle walked away. Everyone else broke something, and Rosie's head went through a computer screen.
Not bad for a major crash.

As Rosie woke up for the first time, she noticed a person standing over her.
"Hello Kyle," she smiled.
"Hello Rosalie."
Unlike the little ones, she had a good idea of what was going on, although she had a minor concussion.
"Where's Bri? And Taylor?" she asked.
"They're with Mom. The next room over."
"Can I get up yet?"
"No, you've only been here two days."
"It's been that long?" she exclaimed.
"That's not that bad, Rosie. Your face smashed a pane of glass. You have burns all over you."
"From what?"
"Electricity, Rosie. Duh. Being fourteen, you should know that."
"You're seventeen. of course you know."
"Rosie, please. You've had enough excitement for a while. Go back to sleep."

When she woke again, she was alone.
She felt strange, like something inside of her was rising up. Like she was going to vomit.
But her mouth felt so strange.
It was her teeth.
She touched one with a finger. There was a sharp pain.
Her finger was bleeding.
Her eyes darted around, trying to find a mirror. There wasn't one.
She dismissed it as a dream, and quickly fell back asleep.
But her eyes never closed.

The next time she woke up, everything was normal.
Her little sisters were sitting on the bed.
"Rosie!" screamed Brianna. "You woke up!"
She was seven. She loved to scream.
Rosie reached out to her. "Hey Bri."
Brianna held up her arm. It was encased in a pink cast. "Look," she yelled. "I broke my arm."
"I can tell," said Rosie. "Where's Mom?"
"In the next room," sighed Taylor, the older of the two twins. "She cracked her skull."
"Is she okay?" said Rosie loudly.
"Yeah. Daddy's with her." said Taylor. "I broke my leg." She held up crutches.
"Daddy bought us dresses!" screamed Brianna.
Rosie smiled. "Do you guys have a mirror?"
Taylor grinned back. "Your phone's on the table."
"Ah. Thank you." Rosie closed her eyes and leaned back.
Before long, she was snoring.

She had a nightmare.
She was on her couch, watching television, when the screen glitched out. And she saw a reflection on the black screen.
Herself. With dark holes where eyes should be.
She screamed and woke up. The clock read 3:52.
She grabbed her phone and switched on the front-facing camera. And everything was... fine.
She looked like normal, just with minor scratches and burns on her face.
She closed her eyes and set the phone back on the table. She sighed, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

The next day, Rosie went home.
As she sat on the couch, she couldn't help but remember the dream.
Taylor sat next to her, munching a granola bar. "How are you feeling?"
Rosie shrugged. "I miss Mom."
"She'll be home soon," Taylor smiled. "Next week."
"How do you know this?"
"Daddy told me," said Taylor.
"Okay," said Rosie. "Where is he now?"
"At the museum," Taylor said. "He's cleaning a mace and bringing it home. A getwell present for you!"
Rosie perked up. She loved antique weapons. Actually, antique anything. The family had cases of antiques around the house, due to their father being a museum curator.
Taylor grinned, displaying granola between her teeth. "I knew you'd like that."
"You know me," said Rosie.

Two hours later, their father came in, holding a long box. "Rosie! Taylor! Bri!"
Brianna rushed down the stairs. "IS THAT FOR ME?" she screamed.
He held it over his head. "No, this is for my Rosie."
"Aw, thanks, Daddy," smiled Rosie, getting up from her place on the couch. She kissed him on the cheek.
He presented her with the box. She brought it to the kitchen table and lifted the lid off.
It was a mace on a chain, attached to a handle.
She gasped. "I love it!"
Her dad smiled, ruffling her hair. "I'm glad. Now get to bed, okay? Kyle is staying home with you tomorrow. Bri and Tay have school."
Taylor groaned. "Come on..."
"Even though your mom's in the hospital, you're fine. Now all of you, to bed!"
They trooped upstairs.
Rosie felt something come over her. She felt unsafe. She shook it off and climbed into bed.
She fell asleep quickly.

She woke at five to noises downstairs.
As she stood up to investigate, she felt a spasm come over her, and she fell to the floor. Pain flooded though her knees, and as she got up, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
There were dark holes where her eyes had been. She could see, but she didn't blink. She opened her mouth to see two inch fangs had replaced her braces. Her skin had turned a deathly white and her nails seemed to have grown an inch during the night.
Her body shook.
Something was very wrong. She wanted to kill, hungered for blood.
But she knew it wasn't right.

She tiptoed downstairs.
Taylor and Brianna were in the kitchen, making pancakes.
As Brianna saw her silhouetted in the doorway, she smiled. "Rosie? Daddy left. Mommy's coming home today! Kyle's in the bathroom. We're making you a special pancake- YOUR FACE!" she screamed.
Rosie grabbed the mace. "So so sorry," she whispered, as she took a swing at Brianna's head.
"I have to keep you safe," she smiled grimly. Brianna's skull burst, spattering gore across the kitchen.
She turned to Taylor.
"R-Rosie?" Taylor said. "What h-have you d-done?"
"You'll be safe now," Rosie whispered, and she smashed her head in.
The bathroom door opened, and she swung around.
Kyle was standing there.
"Rosie! What the hell?" he shouted. He made a lunge towards the phone, but Rosie swung her mace and ripped his hand to shreds.
Walking closer, she threw a punch at his face. Blood dripped from his nostrils as he collapsed.
"I'm sorry, Kyle. I have to make sure no harm comes to you," she whispered as she cracked his skull open with a swing of the mace, killing him.
And she began to laugh.

At precisely eight, Mia, Rosie's best friend, rung the doorbell. She was armed with getwell presents for her favorite person.
"Rosie?" Mia pushed the door open. She saw Rosie sitting on the couch. "Rosie? It's Mia."
Rosie sighed. "Don't go into the kitchen. There's a bit of a mess I need to clean up."
Mia walked into the living room and screamed as she saw Kyle on the floor. "Rosie!"
Rosie turned towards her and smiled. "He's safe now."
Mia shrieked. "What in the name of- I wanted you to get well! What have you done? Where are your sisters?"
Rosie pointed to the kitchen.
Mia glanced over and vomited, seeing the spatters across the walls.
In that moment, Rosie sprung up and took a swing with the mace.
It knocked Mia to the floor, her intestines falling out of her side.
"You're safe, like them." Rosie said, bending over her.
Mia shuddered. "Rosie. No. G-get well. Please. Get well soon." Her eyes glazed over.
Rosie stood up and walked to the table. She scribbled a note.

Dear Mommy and Daddy,
I'm sorry for the mess. I should have cleaned. I'm afraid that I'm not safe anymore. I have to go. I love you.
And I hope you love my work. They needed to be kept safe.
Love,
Rosie

She ran up to her room and pulled off her gore-spattered clothes. Pulling on a red sweater, she spotted ribbon lying on her desk. She tore off a bit ad tied it around her arms and leg, slipping knives into the bands. She slipped on sunglasses and tied a scarf around her neck.
She threw the escape ladder out the window, and climbed down.
She knew where she could hide, keep safe from the world.
Her dad's museum.
Nobody would ever look in the attic of a war museum for a runaway fourteen year old.
Especially if they wanted to keep their life.