Megan's Bath-- Chapter 8

For a long time, Helen and Michael sat-- Helen still in the tub, Michael beside it-- in silence.

Megan too was silent, but only because she didn't know how to speak underwater. If she could, she would scream. Her mother's gentle caresses on her face didn't soothe her, as she could barely feel them through the shell that now encased her. She felt claustrophobic and restless and utterly, utterly confused.

She began shaking her head back and forth, and her mother drew her hand away.

"What is it, Megan?" asked Helen, but Megan couldn't answer her.

"Is it another seizure?" asked Michael.

"I don't think so," Helen replied, cautiously. "Are you too warm? Too cold?" Then she realized that she was still partially sitting on the girl. "Oh God, I'm probably squashing you." She climbed, dripping, out of the tub. She grabbed the small towel nearby and wrapped it around her waist, quickly saturating it, and stood beside Michael. "How's your head?"

"I've completely forgotten about it," he said, gingerly touching his scalp where a tender lump had sprouted.

"We should get that looked at," she said.

"Later," he said, and called to Megan, "Is that better?"

Megan still shook her head and reached her arms up out of the water.

"You want to get out? Is that it?"

Megan nodded frantically.

"Okay," he said, looking up anxiously at Helen.

"We're going to need some more towels," she observed, glancing around the flooded floor. "We'll never get dry in here." She stepped out into the hallway and opened the linen closet; Michael followed her. Shrugging, Helen grabbed all the towels she saw, piling several of them into Michael's arms.

"What if we can't get her out?" he whispered.

"Well, she's not thrashing any more," Helen mused. "I think it'll be easier to grab onto her now that she's settled down."

"That's not what I mean. What if she's-- changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...what if she can't get out of the tub now? What if this is permanent?" He glanced anxiously back at the bathroom door. "What if removing her from the water will kill her?"

Helen dropped the towels she was holding and put her hands over her mouth. "Oh my God."

"Yeah."

The sound of furious splashing suddenly erupted from the bath, sending both parents sprinting back in to see what was the matter. Megan stopped kicking when they entered and fixed them with a scowl.

"What is it?" asked Michael.

Megan thrust her arms out of the water again, jabbing her hands into the air for emphasis.

"We're working on it, okay? Be patient." He pulled Helen back into the hallway. "Okay, so what do we do?"

Helen hesitated. "I think we have to try it," she said finally. "I think if we can get her dried off quickly, she might change back."

"And if she doesn't?"

"We'll keep the tub full and throw her back in and figure something else out."

Michael nodded. "Worth a shot." He glanced back into the bathroom. "We need to dry that floor off first. I'll do that." He grabbed a handful of towels and went back in, dropping to his knees to mop up the flood. Helen noted how few towels were left and went down to the basement to retrieve whatever old ones were stored there.

As she rooted through boxes, her mind spun. So what is she, then? What am I? She was battered by a host of emotions, from helplessness to anger to guilt, and she was unsure of what to do next.

The first thing to do is to get her out of that tub.

Locating the towels, she lifted the entire box and carried it upstairs. Michael had ended up soaking most of the towels, but he had managed to get the floor reasonably dry. She walked in as he was rebuking Megan. "If you don't stop splashing, we won't be able to get you out!"

"Looks good," she observed, dropping the box on the floor.

"So how should we do this?"

Helen began spreading towels on the floor and over her arms. "You lift her, put her down here, and we'll start drying."

Michael shrugged. "Works for me." He knelt beside the tub, reached in, and after some shifting and juggling, lifted Megan out of the water.

When her face broke the surface, her eyes bulged and she immediately began gasping for breath, but Michael quickly laid her on the towels and joined Helen in wrapping her in them. For a tense minute, Michael and Helen again had to bodily restrain Megan as she spasmed, and several times they exchanged worried glances. But as the water was wiped away, the lurching and gasping subsided, and finally Megan was again able to breathe normally.

Helen looked up at Michael with relief. "I think we can empty the tub."

Michael reached behind him and pushed the drain latch open, the bathwater gradually gurgling away.

Helen leaned over Megan and asked gently, "How do you feel?"

The lump of towels that hid Megan answered miserably. "I don't know."

Keeping her swaddled, Helen reached into the lump and carefully wriggled the girl's wet clothes away. "Let's get you a change of clothes, okay?"

Megan didn't answer. "Okay?" Helen prompted her, pulling the towels away from the girl's face. Megan gave her a forlorn nod.

They helped Megan stand up, still wrapped, and hobble out of the room; as they did so, Megan caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, her head covered in black scales, and screamed.

"Let's go," Helen urged her.

"Oh my God," cried Megan.

"It'll be okay," said Michael.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."

They went into Megan's room, where Helen busied herself with pulling open drawers and digging out fresh clothes. Michael, meanwhile, tried to reassure his horrified daughter.

"What have I done?" she wailed. She had seen the scales before, even painted some of them on her face, but this was different.

"It'll be okay. Look," he insisted, pointing at her arm, which was now only partially scaled. "It's already fading. You didn't do anything permanent."

Helen laid the clothes on Megan's bed. "Get changed," she said. "We'll meet you downstairs when you're ready."

Megan looked confused.

"Do you need help?" asked Helen.

Megan thought about it, then slowly shook her head.

"Are you going to get into the tub again?" Helen added.

"No," said Megan quietly.

"Put your clothes on," instructed Helen, following Michael out of the room, "then come down to the kitchen. We have a lot to talk about."