𝐴 𝑌𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑇𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 ⸙͎۪۫ Timothy Leslie Templeton

Part Three: Devil Babies!

You return to your house on the same night of the disastrous dinner. You're so relieved when you finally reach home. The only hypothesis you could come up with is that two babies in the house are not a good sign. You can't imagine having more than two inside of a room.

For a slight moment, you were thinking that the babies are actually geniuses. I mean like, they pulled the table clothe and have a tug-o-war! What kind of babies can take down two 7 and a half-year-old kids? Definitely not that kind of baby. And you're sure that Tim notices it, too but just maybe it goes through his head. You don't blame him if he thinks it was one of his imaginations. If you had his imagination, you would think you're delusional, too.

You walk out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth, yawning loudly at how late it was. You walk down the hallway, pass by the pictures of you that were hammered on the walls. You enter your room, a step away from your bedroom before you look towards the baby's room. The lights were off but something made you want to check on her.

You hesitated but shake your head and continue to walk inside. You hop on the bed as the bed bounces for a moment before stopping. You stare at your ceiling. Usually, your parents would bid you goodnights and kisses your forehead but unfortunately, they fell on the couch. Again. And they snore loudly, too. But, you didn't blame them. If you were the one who's taking care of the baby, you would be snoring loudly, too.

You are about to cover yourself with the blanket when you heard your window being knock twice. It startles you at first but then relaxes when you see it's Tim who's shooting toy sticky bullets on your window. you shake your head and make your way towards the window. You slide it open, getting shot on the forehead which make you stumble backwards, tripping on your feet and fall on your back loudly. Not as loud that it can wake your parents. You pull away from the fake bullet and approach the window with a confused look, eyebrows furrowing.

Tim shoots the plastic cup into your room as usual. He seems like in a hurry. You pick it up and put the round empty part of the cup on your ear, carefully listening to Tim's words.

"I need you to come to my house, ASAP! Over!" he whispers through the cup.

You put the cup on your mouth, growing confused by his panicky tone. "What's wrong? It sounds urgent. Over," you reply.

"It is urgent! Oh! And bring the baby, too! Over!"

You stare at him in disbelief. "The baby...?" you mumble.

Tim starts to pull back the cup gently. You let go of the cup, watching it graces through the uneven rocky road and leave marks on the round cup that'll never fade. Tim grabs the cup once it's in his reach. He waves his hands around and makes a sign for you to rush over. You nod and hold up 5 fingers, signalling to give you 5 minutes.

You run out of your bedroom and sneak into the baby's room. The baby is still sleeping in her crib which you sigh in relief. You carefully carry her out of the crib and let her head falls on your shoulder. She snores softly and whines at the different sleeping positions she's in. You sigh in relief once more when she returns to slumber.

You walk past your sleeping parents and twirl the doorknob super carefully. Once you manage to step outside and close the door, you see Tim impatiently pacing around his porch and mumbling incoherently. You look both sides before crossing the road, even though it's pitch black and probably no one will be waking up by then. You stop in front of Tim who sighs in relief loudly.

"Thank God! I thought you said 5 minutes!" Tim whispers harshly.

You stick your tongue out. "Well, sorry for not being here a lot sooner. I have a baby and parents to sneak out to. Do you think my parents will let me be here? They'll kill me," you reason.