Part Four
August walked into the saferoom, drawn by the sounds of sobbing. Was Pan alright? Had something happened? Worry tied his stomach into a knot as he prayed he’d been right, that the fluffy was okay.
“NUUUUU! PWEASE NU HUWT PAN! PAN AM SOWWY! PAN AM SOWWY! PAN AM SOWWY! PWEASE, MR. WAFFY! NU HUWT PAN!”
“Pan! What’s wrong?”
“PWEASE NU HUWT! PWEASE NU HUWT! PWEASE NU HUWT!” Pan sobbed frantically, trying to back away into the corner he was already pressed hard into. “PAN NU WIWW WUN! PAN AM SOWWY! PAN AM SCAWED!”
“What the fuck? Pan, I’m not going to hurt you!” August was panicking himself. He began frantically typing on his phone, looking for the nearest fluffy-specialist vet. Something was horribly wrong with Pan.
“It’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you! Listen, Pan! You’re sick! I’m going to get you help!”
“NU! NU CWOSEW! NU HUWT PAN! PWEASE, MR. WAFFY! NU HUWT PAN! PAN AM SOWWY!” the fluffy continued to wail, seemingly in a state of delirium.
August dashed forward, picking Pan up, and ran to his car, heedless of the waste the horrified fluffy was leaving on his clothes. He had to get Pan to a hospital, or a vet, or somewhere!
I’m a fucking idiot! Why didn’t I listen? He was so scared, but I ignored him! What will I do if he doesn’t get better? What did I do to him?
He drove recklessly, weaving into traffic at a speed high above the recommended for the cobbled Old Town roads. He had to save Pan. Had to fix the damage he’d caused the poor fluffy.
“Pan am sowwy! Pan am sowwy! Pan am sowwy! Pan am sowwy!” came the half-catatonic mumbling from the broken fluffy.
August burst into the vet’s office, ignoring the disgusted looks from the other clients. He half-ran, half-staggered to the front desk, adrenaline and anxiety making him unsteady. He leaned on the desk and tried to regain his breath as the poor clerk stared at Pan in horror.
“What did you do to him?” she asked, voice trembling with revulsion and fury.
“Nothing! I don’t know what’s wrong! He was like this when I woke up this morning!”
She yanked the unresponsive fluffy out of his arms. “Sit down! I’m taking him for treatment. Don’t you dare leave until I can get out here and scream at you, you abusive piece of shit!”
August slumped into a chair, exhausted and defeated.
Pan’s world was a swirling vortex of terror and grief. He couldn’t comprehend why daddeh had tormented him like that. Why he’d lied to many times. The monster was real, and he’d been hiding there the whole time! Had everything been a lie? Had daddeh kept him just as a plaything, something to torment and kill?
He calmed slightly as he was taken away from dadd-from Mr. Laughy. He was still inconsolable, though, until the vet administered a heavy dose of sedatives. Slowly, he began to calm, his frayed nerves and sleep-deprived mind feeling the first true peace in a long time. He dared to open his eyes for the first time since Mr. Laughy had taken him from his saferoom.
“Hey, little guy. Are you feeling any better?” a warm, baritone voice asked. He looked up, seeing a stranger. Normally he’d have been afraid, his early life as a feral had taught him to avoid strangers, but right now seeing any face other than that one was a relief.
“Pwease! Nu wet munstah taek Pan! Nu wan huwties! Nu wan fowebah-sweepies!”
The vet’s face grew grim at the words, and more so at the rasping of Pan’s voice. Here was a fluffy that’d been through hell, even if he lacked physical scars. Sometimes, mental abuse was the cruelest there was.
“That piece of shit!” came another voice, and voice he felt he’d heard not long earlier, in the living nightmare. The voice of the nice lady who’d taken him from the monster.
“Shhh,” the vet hushed her. “Let me talk to the patient. Pan, was it? Tell me what happened?”
Pan spilled his story. All of it, the monster, the nightmares, how he’d learned his loving daddeh was the one tormenting him all along. As he spoke, the vet’s face grew more grim and sad.
“Pan?” he asked once the story was finished. “I’m going to help you feel better, and I’m going to keep you safe. I need to see if you’re hurt, is that okay?”
“Otay. Pan jus’ nu wan munstah tu taek Pan!”
“I understand,” the vet said, kindly. He began to examine Pan, seeming increasingly perplexed. None of the injuries the monster had inflicted in the story were there. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any injuries or damage at all. Except…
“Carla?” the vet called, and the nice lady returned to the room.
“Yes?”
“Is the man who brought Pan in still in the waiting room?”
“Yes. I’m not letting him leave until I give him a piece of my mind. And if you want to give this fluffy back, I refuse!”
“Don’t let him leave.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Carla, listen. Whatever you do, don’t let him leave, and don’t chew him out. This is important. I need to talk to him.”
“Okay, okay. I won’t. But he deserves-”
“CARLA!”
“Fine.”
“Keep an eye on Pan. I need to be sure of something.”
“August?”
August awoke with a jolt. He looked around in confusion, then he remembered. A large, clean-shaven man was standing in the doorway to the care rooms. “August, I need to talk to you. Follow me, please.”
“Is Pan okay? I swear I didn’t-” August began as they walked, but was cut off.
“Wait until we’re alone, please. I need to discuss something serious with you.”
“Listen, Mr. August,” the vet began as soon as the door closed behind them. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
“I didn’t hurt him! I don’t know what’s wrong!”
“Mr. August, right now that’s not my concern. Tell me, have you had bad dreams lately?”
August was confused. “Not particularly. Listen, if it’s about Pan’s night terrors-”
“Mr. August, have you noticed anything strange? Starting about nightfall? Odd sights, maybe dizziness? Strange smells?”
“Look, I don’t have time for-”
“LISTEN! I need you to answer me!”
“No. I have to wake up early for work so I go to bed early. I don’t usually stay up past eight. I haven’t noticed anything strange.”
“Hmm…and no nightmares?”
“No.”
“Mr. August, your fluffy has extensive damage to his lungs, but as far as I can tell that’s the only injury he’s suffered. Do you have any explanation for this?”
“I don’t KNOW, okay? All I know is he has night terrors and this morning he snapped!”
“I don’t think your fluffy has night terrors.”
“What? Then you think his nightmares were real?”
“No. There are a few things I have trouble reconciling, but I do have a theory as to what’s going on. Tell me, does Pan sleep in the same room as you?”
“No, he sleeps in his saferoom. I’m actually allergic to fluffies, so he can’t be in my room, but I didn’t want to just abandon him.”
“Allergic? And how bad is this allergy?”
“Not that bad. While I’m awake I can handle it, just coughing and sneezing mostly. I got pneumonia from nasal drain a few times, but I’m undergoing treatment for that, so it’s not a problem.”
“Treatment? Like an allergen mask?”
“Yes. I don’t see what any of this has to do with Pan.”
“Pan told me there’s a monster tormenting him at night called Mr. Laughy. He said it took off its face and it was you underneath. Do you sleep walk at all?”
“No! Listen, I don’t care if you think it was me asleep or not, I haven’t been torturing my fluffy!”
“I didn’t think you were. Mr. August, I hope you understand, I’m just trying to rule out possibilities. I don’t think you ever hurt Pan. For the most part he speaks of you…before…very fondly. One more question: Has there been any sewer work near your home recently?”
“Yes…I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Medically speaking, Pan will need to stay here for treatment for his lung damage for a few days, possibly a week or two. In the meantime, don’t go home.”
“You think there’s some kind of monster in my house? Sorry, but I’m not superstitious.”
“No. Not a monster. Something much worse. I’ve already contacted the proper authorities, but for now you need to stay out of your home.”
“A stalker? You think some sicko has been sneaking into my house to torture Pan?”
“No. I think a gas line got cracked during sewer work and has been leaking into your home whenever the street lamps turned on. Pan was probably much more affected than you, since fluffies have such a low tolerance for toxins. In fact, if you had any kind of filter I suspect you wouldn’t experience anything at all unless you took it off. Like if your fluffy were sleeping in your room and you didn’t want to frighten him. Of course, at that level you probably wouldn’t experience anything major. Nightmares, maybe.”
“Oh…fuck. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. Best-case, he’ll still need major treatment. Listen, Mr. August. The hallucinations have left far worse scars in his psyche. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to see you as anything other than a monster.”
“Pan?”
Pan startled awake at the voice. “Hewwo,” he said to the stranger.
“Hello. Listen, Pan. I know you’ve been through something very scary, and I’m here to help you feel better. If you need to tell me anything, don’t hesitate. I’m here to listen.”
“Pan nu wan tawk. Pan hab wowstest heawt-huwties.”
“That’s okay, take as long as you need.”
Six months later
Pan cringed slightly when he saw Mr. La-when he saw daddeh. He knew that the monster wasn’t real, that it’d all been nasty air making his thinky-place sick, but he still wanted to run. But right now, he felt strong enough.
“Hewwo, daddeh!”
“Pan! I’ve missed you so much! How are you feeling?”
“Pan am feewin’ bettuh. Nu mowe scawy-sweepie-time-pictuhs. Pan am sowwy. Pan were meanie tu daddeh.”
“No. No, Pan,” daddeh sobbed. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I let you get hurt so much. I’m just glad your okay. I promise I’ll never let you get hurt like that again.”