Chapter Text
Day and Night of 26 October 1978
Late afternoon sunshine basked the small town of Haddonfield in a warm glow, bringing more vibrant energy to the townsfolk after a few cold and cloudy days. The neighbourly birds chirped with happiness and flew from tree to tree, enjoying the more tolerable autumn air against their fine feathers. People bustled about on the sidewalk, walking to the store down the main road or simply enjoying the lovely weather. It was purely a wonderful day outside in the fresh air.
In the unkempt front lawn of a small cottage house located on Fairfield Avenue, a little girl was crouched down. Her small form was partially hidden by the long stalks of grass, and if passers-by had noticed her, they would only really see a head of long golden curls. The child didn’t mind being half-buried between the tall grass though, as the long stalks gave her a sense of security from the rest of the world. Here, between the green vegetation, was where she felt most safe. Even if the vegetation changed from tall grass to flower bushes or trees, they all provided her with a familiar comfort.
In her hands, a handmade flower crown made from wild daisies and their stalks was near completion. With just a few more twists of the green stems, it would be finished. The girl excitedly bounced in her place on the ground, eager to wear the crown once it was finished. Making flower crowns from the flowers around her house and neighbourhood was one of her favourite things to do. It made her happy as well when some of the other children and adults complimented her on them when they rested upon her head. Her small fingers worked from well-practised memory as the last of the stems and flowers were twisted and joined to the other end of the crown. A smile graced the girl’s face as she looked down at her completed work with pride.
Before she could place the crown on her head, a door loudly banged open. The girl jumped in fright and unintentionally clutched the flower crown tightly in her hands. “Emma! Dinner time!” a voice called out, sounding a bit hoarse. “Dang child,” the person mumbled before retreating. The small girl, Emma, recognised the strained voice to be that of her mother.
She let out a breath she had been holding and looked down at her hands. To her dismay, the delicate crown had fallen apart due to her tight hold on it, and a few broken pieces fell onto the ground. Her lips pulled into a sad pout, and she let the crumpled crown fall to the floor after a moment. Unfortunately, these daisies had been the last ones she could find in her garden. She would have to look elsewhere tomorrow if she wanted to make another one.
Why did Mommy always have to ruin the peace and quiet? The girl sombrely stood from her place in the grass and walked towards her home. She made her way up the porch steps, wiping her sandy hands against her mismatched shorts and shirt, before entering the house. The yellow bulb in the entryway cast unstable flickers of light across Emma’s vision. She closed the door and found her mother sitting on the old recliner in the living room. The old box television was playing some movie. The changing scenes caused brighter and dimmer light to reflect into her mother’s angular face. A half-eaten box of TV dinner rested in her lap, and Emma could see an identical box sitting on the couch waiting for her.
Her feet padded across the carpet and she hoisted herself on the two-seater couch with a huff. Her mother made no indication of acknowledgement and she continued staring at the screen while Emma took a spoonful of food into her mouth. Her face morphed into a small scowl.
The food tasted bland as ever, as most cheap pre-packaged frozen food did, and the small bit of ketchup in one of the compartments did little to help the taste. The girl didn’t voice this aloud though, knowing this type of meal was a regular one at the house. Instead, she hoped to convince her mother to maybe buy something that she has heard other children eat at dinnertimes.
“Mommy, can we eat mac and cheese tomorrow?” Emma asked around a mouthful of squishy peas. She had heard of the other families making the pasta in the oven from scratch, and her mouth would often water when she thought of it. The girl didn’t know when last she had a freshly made meal.
The woman on the recliner glanced at the child and gave a scoff, her smile cynical. “No. That kind of food is expensive – you know we don’t earn much.” That was true, at least of what Emma knew. Her mother often complained about hardly meeting the bills each month, and they didn’t have much money to use for groceries, toiletries, and things like clothes. Even toys were hard to come by, and Emma only really got toys for Christmas or if she was lucky, her birthday. Her mom worked at the 24-hour convenience store at the gas station, and even with nightly shifts paying extra, she didn’t earn too much money.
At least they had a roof over their head and food to eat, even if it wasn’t the tastiest.
Emma’s mother turned to the child again after a beat and gave her a raised eyebrow. “Since when don’t you like TV dinners anymore? It keeps your belly full, doesn’t it?”
Her derisive tone caused Emma’s mood to drop even further. She should have known bringing up nice food wasn’t a good idea. “Yes, Mommy. It’s just…sometimes yucky,” Emma responded quietly, making a face at the lump of supposed meat when she prodded at it with her plastic fork. The brown lump jiggled…Emma was sure it wasn’t supposed to do that.
“Great, you’ve become fussy,” the woman replied, pushing her own box away and sighing. She picked up a cigarette nearby the ashtray beside her and lit it, inhaling greedily. She let out a breath of smoke, her eyes glued to the TV and no longer on her daughter. “Work starts soon. I’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”
The small girl’s shoulder slumped after hearing the inevitable news. It was nothing new though – her mother always worked the night shifts, sometimes day shifts on top of that, and left Emma alone at the house without any company. Even though her Mommy wasn’t like the other mommies who hugged their children or kissed their foreheads, she still missed her company when she wasn’t around. Even if her Mommy insulted her and was mean to her, Emma hated being left alone at home. A babysitter might have helped with the loneliness, but Emma’s mother couldn’t be bothered with hiring someone to watch her child when she believed her daughter could take care of herself.
After a while, Emma’s mother placed the used cigarette into the tray and stood up. Her skinny frame slumped forward as she dragged her feet to the main bedroom to get changed into her uniform. Emma put down her unfinished food and made a grab for the remote, switching the channel over to late-night cartoons. Popeye the Sailor was playing, and Emma perked up a bit at the familiar characters. Her attention was consumed by the show and a few minutes later she heard the rattling of car keys.
Her mother buttoned up the last of her shirt, not bothering to tuck it into her pants, and haphazardly tied her greasy hair up. “Turn that down, the neighbours will complain,” she ordered the child, even though the volume had remained the same since she had been sitting there.
Emma obediently turned the volume down and continued watching, glancing back to her mother every now and then. The woman met her glance and continued, “Don’t go to bed late.” Her concern was half-hearted, even Emma could tell, as the woman was more concerned with trying to appear more awake. Without a goodbye, she took her keys and left, locking the door behind her. After a couple of minutes, Emma heard their old car stutter to life before driving away.
Silence settled all around the six-year-old girl, and she quickly turned the volume up a little to avoid feeling the crushing grip of said silence. Distracted by the cartoon, Emma allowed herself to wander into the fictional world of Popeye until two episodes had ended. Reluctantly, she turned the TV off and took the dinner boxes to the kitchen and threw them in the bin.
She then began her nightly routine of running a bath for herself, using only cold water as she did not know how to properly control the hot water. She fetched her pyjamas and undressed in the bathroom, bracing herself for the cold. She climbed onto the wooden step stool and looked down into the bath before carefully stepping inside. Despite the many times she had done it before, she couldn’t help emitting a squeak as the icy water lapped against her skin. She shivered and tried washing herself as quickly as she could to avoid freezing too much. Once she was done, her whole form was shivering and she pulled the plug, freeing herself from the harsh conditions of the water. Her hands shook as they used a towel to dry herself off and to pull her pyjamas over her body, before burrowing themselves under her armpits for warmth.
Emma turned off the light and put her dirty clothes into the basket. Her mind wandered back to the flower crown that had broken in her hands and a soft sigh left her. If only she hadn’t have gotten a fright, maybe the crown would still be around. The child made her way to her small bedroom, familiar with the darkness around her as she manoeuvred, and lifted herself onto her bed with a bit of difficulty. Her arms managed to hoist her short form onto the bed, and she burrowed under the musty blanket. She mulled over her thoughts for a bit amongst the shadows.
Oh, how she wished her mother would read her bedtime stories or kiss her goodnight. Or maybe even tuck her in…but Emma knew that would never happen. Nobody truly loved the girl, and no one cared that she was suffering from neglect. Even if the neighbours thought her mother was unfriendly for never speaking to them or rarely leaving the house for social events, they didn’t know of the poor living conditions little Emma was enduring. The child herself never told anyone, not really comprehending that her life was not quite as nurturing as it should have been. She understood that she was less fortunate than the other children and families, but without having any friends to fully compare her life to, she simply became the wallflower of the town.
The silence returned with a fury and settled around Emma thickly, almost as if it were punishing her for asking her mother unwanted questions earlier. Desperately, the girl covered her blonde head with the pilled blanket in hopes to hide from the crushing silence. Thankfully, her non-verbal pleas were answered, and she soon succumbed to the sweet whisper of sleep.
Meanwhile, 150 miles away, the grounds outside of Smith’s Grove Sanitarium were in pandemonium. Patients were aimlessly wandering outside the facility in the pouring rain while a stolen car was speeding away. The driver set his sights on the road while his mind was set on his next destination…his hometown; Haddonfield.