Baby Teeth
By Kelly Broderick
Second Place Winner, Bow & Chariot 2025 Horror Story Challenge
Subgenre: Sexual Horror
TW: Mentions of child molestation and pedophilia.
Monsters aren’t tied to the night. That’s where they thrive but they can hide in the daylight just as well as they do in the shadows. A lingering hug, a wandering hand, a long kiss goodnight, fingers inside your pajamas; this is natural, our little secret, no one will believe you.
Home from school and easing the door open She listens to the house and the echoing rooms. No miasma of fear to wade through. She’s alone. Her racing heart begins to steady and She shakes the rattle out of Her limbs. Skipping upstairs past the hollowed out jack-o-lanterns of the season, banister draped in bunting, She bursts into Her room and flings Her bag onto Her bed. There’s homework to do but first She deserves some pampering. Taking a seat at Her vanity She piles Her tools as a soldier preparing for war. Eyeshadow, blush, lip gloss, ready, aim, fire. Her mother says it makes Her look too mature for Her age. He says it makes Her look like a pretty little princess. Her hand pauses, eyes staring back at Her unseeing in the mirror.
Pretty little princess.
Pretty little princess.
You’re my pretty little princess aren’t you?
She comes back to Herself and scans Her face in the reflection. The eyes are the windows to the soul, that’s what people say. But not everyone has a soul. She has stared into yawning sockets that steal the deepest parts of Her in the hours between waking and screaming. No use screaming, given up long ago. Silent screams echo in every limb, in every crevice, in every corner of Her thoughts.
What do the before girls see when they look in Her eyes? Does reality make them uncomfortable so they wrap themselves in made up worlds, worlds where their mothers don’t open the doors and welcome the monsters in. Or maybe they see the haunted look in Her eyes. But this haunted is good, this haunted makes Her feel less alone.
They stand at the foot of Her bed at night, a silent chorus. The girls that came before. Over the grunting and creaking they keep Her company. When he leaves they crowd around Her, cold and damp as they try to grasp Her hands and wrap Her in their arms. She feels their anger and fire. They try to rouse it in Her but they arrived too late. She was already broken.
She blinks hard and forces a smile. Golden eyeshadow, rosy flushed blush, and a shimmery lip gloss. The face that smiles at Her seems a little more real. Riding the wave of happy She flicks through Her phone before putting on Her favourite playlist, Her foot tapping to the beat. By the third song She is shouting the lyrics and bouncing on Her bed laughter pouring in rainbows from Her.
Then She hears the front door open to a chorus of voices. She stops bouncing as the boulder in Her throat plummets through Her bed to the floor. Her mother calls up that they were home and they had food, come down won’t you? In a flash of fear She finds Herself in Her bathroom scrubbing happiness from Her face. The taste of freedom is bile, retching even when it finds Her empty. She avoids the mirror to avoid the screams. It doesn’t matter, they sound in Her head, an endless cacophony looking to Her heart for company.
Sitting at the dinner table She smiles and talks about school. Classes were fun, She was meeting Her friends the next day, Susan has a crush on a boy but don’t tell her I told you. He makes a joke, She’s not sure what, just that it ends with him laughing and talking about being surrounded by his girls. Her mother laughs and She echoes a smile while Her little sister focuses on her mashed carrot.
Her mother talks about their day in town and jokingly chides him for spoiling Her sister. He laughs and pinches Her sister’s cheek and declares he would do anything for his pretty little princess. A frost settles in Her bones, winter in Her throat, and ice picks in Her eyes. He had been visiting Her less and She had been too relieved to question it. But it couldn’t be. Couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t. But She looks across the table and, as if a shroud of sorrow, the before girls were crowded around Her sister. They hug her and whisper in her ear as they look at Her with regret and resignation. She could almost hear them in Her head. We failed with you but now we have another chance. There are too many before, we must ensure there is an after.
They saw Her as one of them now, a before girl no matter Her lungs and Her heart. No matter how many pieces She had fractured into Her heart still beat for Her sister.
That night She stays awake sitting stiff in bed, heart pounding like drums in Her ears, waiting and waiting. Soon there was the telltale creak of the master bedroom door. She draws rage into Her lungs and screams. A pregnant pause then a rush into action. He and Her mother run into Her room. What happened? Are you okay? She feigns a nightmare, shaking but from adrenaline. Her mother pets Her hair and makes soothing sounds, far too late for protection from the darkness in the night. They soon go back to bed and the night remains still.
She continues this new routine for one more night, just one more night, always one more night. Don’t take away her shine, her smile blinds the stars. He gets more aggravated with each passing night until one night he visits Her again. One of the ghosts stays with Her and holds Her hand. She was the saddest one, the one that always tried to interfere or help even knowing it was fruitless. Tears ran down the girl’s face as blood runs down Her legs. He leaves sated but She could still see the dark sockets of his eyes. He could have no eyes, eyes were an animal feature and he was a creature made of darkness and thorns. She lies on Her pink sheets, Her emotions shut down, thinking clinically that She would have to throw away the sheet or Her mother would think She had finally gotten Her period. The before girl stays with Her for the rest of the night.
Nights resumed their pain but at least Her sister was safe. The ghosts still stay with Her sister, no doubt whispering to her about revenge and fighting back as they once had with Her. But that one girl stays and holds Her hand or tries to cover Her eyes. It was comforting in a sad way. She thought Her sister was too young to understand what they were saying, what she had to prepare for and fight against and a part of Her hopes she stays that way.
She is on Her way home from school the next day when Her mother texts Her to pick up soup. Her sister is home sick and he is watching her. She runs. And runs. And runs and runs and runs and runs. When She reaches Her house She bangs on the door before looking for Her key in a panic and ramming it into the lock. She bursts into the house as the door crashes open. She frantically calls Her sister’s name and forces Herself not to destroy the leering jack-o-lantern at the bottom of the stairs. Then Her sister calls out from the kitchen and She races in. Her foot almost slips out from under Her when She gets in there. Her sister is sitting on the floor with a big smile on a face that is doused in blood.
She eyes his body stretched out beside Her sister, some gurgling sounds still emanating from him despite the large knife in his neck. Parts of his throat were missing with marks that explained the gore between Her sister’s smiling teeth. Her sister clapped a wet sound. Now he can’t hurt you anymore. Now he can’t hurt anyone.
She stared down at his confused, afraid, and glazing eyes and carefully made Her way to the drawer under the sink. She takes out what She was looking for and kneels beside the felled creature. Then carefully She takes the spoon and scoops one of his eyes from its socket. She passes it to Her sister who giggles and pops it in her mouth. The other eye follows. Now he is his true self. Now there are no windows. In the distance She hears Her mother coming home. She looks up and sees the before girls ringed around their tableau smiling in glee. She vaguely registers Her mother’s screams but when She looks at his body all She hears is laughter.
