She was covered in paint. Literally from head to toe. There was gold 
paint in her hair, silver paint on her face, and purple paint just 
everywhere — on her onesie, and even on her feet. The smile on his 
face seemed to imply she knew what she had done, and had 
enjoyed every minute of it. 


"Holy sh- Christ." Kit quickly corrected his tendency to swear. "Why 
did you... How did you...?" But Matilda would only chuckle and, as 
he came close and bent down, reach out to Kit and place a hand 
print on his face. "Of course." He sighed, but couldn't help but to 
smile. At least she was happy, and she hadn't managed to injure 


herself in the course of her activities. 


Well, at least she had picked a week when he had hot water. 
"Bathtime, | guess. Then naptime. Then your naptime. Then lunch. 
Then... I'll tell you a story! Then bedtime." He planned out as he 
went along, scooping the baby up, not caring as he got paint all over 
a baggy t-shirt he had put on. 


Matilda was still giggling happily as they entered the bathroom, but 
Kit was perplexed. How did he do this? She could sit up alone, sure, 
but what if she somehow fell like she could have done from the 
couch? Did she need one of those inflatable rings? This baby 
business was full of challenges. And what about her clothes? They 
needed to go in the wash, but he had nothing else to dress her in, 
and the entity around her didn't seem to particular care about 
clothing — he guessed it wasn't essential in their books. 


"Hmm. This is... awkward." Kit murmured to Matilda, turning on the 
taps whilst still clutching her, before going into the kitchen to get that 
darn box again, just to have somewhere safe to put her for a 
moment. He placed her carefully in a corner of the bathroom, far 
away from the cabinets full of pills and cleaners, before dashing into 
the bedroom and digging around to find the smallest t-shirt he had. 
And the smallest thing he found happened to belong to Gabriel. 


For a moment, he held it close to his face, just breathing in that 
scent of him — something like charcoal, something else like 
gunpowder, and some scent he could never identify but always 
made him feel slightly lightheaded. Passing this on to Matilda almost 
felt like something spiritual — using something old to welcome 
something new into his life. Kit sighed, quelled his emotions, then 
grabbed a nappy and headed quickly into the bathroom. 


The tub was full enough — it would come up to just over her hips. He 
didn't want to risk any deeper, as he felt this would already be tricky 
enough. He undressed Matilda on an old t-shirt, the rhythm almost 
familiar by now, and tested the water in the bath like he had done 
with the milk — using his elbow rather than his hand. Finding it 
pleasantly lukewarm, he plonked the paint-coated baby into the 
bath, and gently began to clean her with a washcloth. 


Matilda thought this new area was a lot of fun. Her da- Unc- ... 
whoever was desperately trying to get her clean whilst not making 
her skin sore, but her hands quickly discovered the power of 
splashing. With a giggle and as much strength as she could muster, 
she brought her hands down and splashed Kit. 


Kit sputtered as water went in his mouth and his eyes, and shook his 
head, trying to get rid of the stuff. "Munchkin!" He couldn't bring 
himself to tell her off, though. She was smiling, and giggling, and 
that was hard to tell off — it was even harder to reconcile that 
behaviour with the screaming creature she had been last night. So, 
he let himself be splashed, and obediently pulled a face every time, 
because that seemed to make her even happier. 


It was quite the sad occasion — from the perspective of a baby — 
when Kit decided the washcloth and soap had gotten off as much of 
the paint as could be removed, and bathtime was over. He genily 
lifted her from the tub, dismissing the whimpering as annoyance at 
the end of playtime, and lay her back on the t-shirt, gently drying her 
with a towel. This time, the nappy went on without much difficulty — 
Kit proudly decided he was quickly becoming a pro at this baby lark. 


The top was a bit harder — it dwarfed her, of course, but with a 
complicated mixture of knots, he managed to make the top fit her as 
much as it was going to. The t-shirt was more of a dress but he still 
worried about her legs getting cold, so he used a pair of socks that 
were more like tights on her, with a tiny knot at the top of each to 
stop them sliding down. She looked like a shabbily-dressed rag doll, 
but neither Kit nor Matilda particularly cared about fashion. 


Kit glanced at the clock. It was barely noon, but he felt like he had 
been doing this for days already. Not all of it was horrible, of course, 
but he couldn't help but to be aware of the night time cries and the 
early start. However, there was still more of the day to come yet... 


Onwards, to the Penultimate Chapter » 


Hub 


One Kit and an (Anomalous) Baby - The Penultimate 
Chapter 


« Missed Part 2? 


Kit hummed 'Close to You' as he started to prepare a bottle of milk 
before Matilda had a nap. He had started to notice that, when she 
was getting tired, her eyelids would become heavy and she would 
clutch whichever rabbit toy she had close against her. When she 
was in the box (as she was now, playing its role as a makeshift 
highchair) it would rock very gently when she was sleepy, but not yet 
napping. Kit had to be honest and say he appreciated the help. 


As he put the water on to boil, he stretched slightly before turning 
around to face the counter he had left the box and baby on. Out of 
the blue, Peaches — the cat that didn't really exist in any realm; it 
was a long story — decided to come out of hiding. The appearance of 
Matilda had probably put her a bit on-edge, even if the baby (just like 
everyone else) couldn't see Peaches. Gracefully, the little ginger 
kitten leapt onto the counter, chirping softly at Kit, who resisted the 
urge to copy the noise as he normally did. 


She started sniffing around the box, finding a myriad of smells 
awaiting her there. As she came close, Matilda suddenly squealed 
excitedly, and let go of one of the bunny's ears in order to reach a 
hand out to the cat, who didn't seem the least bit surprised she was 
seen by the child, and gently sniffed the hand before licking it. She 
patiently let her head be awkwardly petted, then chirped and jumped 
off the counter to go explore — or disappear — somewhere else. Kit 
watched the entire thing with his mouth slightly agape, before going 
over to Matilda, bottle forgotten for the moment. 


"You could see her?" Obviously, it was dumb to actually ask the 
baby, but he still had to say it, because he was honestly surprised. 
He knew the baby was different, but he thought it was simply the 
force protecting her, rather than Matilda herself. The baby blinked up 


at him then whimpered as she saw the lack of bottle, the cat 
providing only a momentarily distraction. Behind him, he heard the 
plastic bottle rattling, as if someone (or something) was shaking it to 
draw his attention. 


"Right, right. | haven't forgotten. Sorry, Munchkin." He pressed a kiss 
to her forehead before going back to his task. He produced the 
bottle when it was full and cool enough, bringing it over to the baby 
and cradling her in his arms as he fed her, reflexively rocking her 
and humming that same song again. 


Once she was satisfied, he placed her in the box for a moment and 
dumped the bottle to be washed up. "Naptime!" He couldn't hide the 
happiness in his own voice. If she was asleep, he could sleep, too. 
He lifted her out of the box and carried her into the bedroom, 
pausing to change her nappy with growing ease, and then wrapping 
her in the blanket cocoon, first letting her yawn and stretch her arms 
out with what little muscle control she had. 


Once she was safely encased, he placed her in the drawer and 
kissed her forehead. Her eyes were already drooping, so he didn't 
disturb her by singing to her this time. He waited on his knees until 
she was fast asleep, her breathing a soft little noise, her eyelashes 
resting on her pale cheeks. He paused to take this image in, then 
slowly, quietly, got up and moved to climb into his own bed. 


He was asleep in a second. And it felt like he was awoken a second 
later, though he did feel a tad more refreshed. Matilda was 
whimpering and struggling to get free of her cocoon, fed-up of 
sleeping. That was fair enough, but Kit was glad he had only 
promised a story and nothing more active. 


Eventually, he would have to bring her outside of this flat, let her get 
some fresh air, maybe feed the ducks in the local park where he 
normally smoked weed — well, he guessed that was out of the 
window, for now. Definitely the weed, and even the trips outside, 
until he had a pram. 


"Coming, Munchkin!" Him just calling seemed to calm her, and she 
struggled to turn her head to face him, grinning, chewing on the 
fingers of a freed hand. Kit found himself smiling too as he reached 


her side and carefully unbundled her. She was still dry, but probably 
getting a little bit hungry now. 


A short while later, and they were set up on the sofa. Matilda was 
sat up in Kit's arms, and he was holding her bottle, rocking and 
humming quietly. When the bottle was mostly empty and she 
displayed no more interest, he cleared his throat. "A story, a story..." 
No picture books or fairy tales had appeared anywhere he had 
briefly looked, so he guessed he had to make up his own, as the 
stories he had been told in his childhood were sparse, and he had 
forgotten the most important parts of them. 


"Once upon a time, there was a little boy called... Jude. Jude was a 
weird boy, he was like us, except he couldn't make things appear 
when he wanted them; he just saw things. That meant Jude didn't 
have many friends, 'cos a lot of the other kids teased him. So, one 
day, Jude was playing near the graveyard, alone. Truth be told, he 
was hiding from a... monster that lived in his house." 


Matilda appeared to be listening, or at least soothed by Kit's voice 

rumbling in his chest, close to her where she rested her head. She 
was chewing a rusk that had appeared from no-where, but Kit had 
no concerns about the safety of the food. The entity protecting the 

baby had done nothing to hurt her so far, and seemed only to exist 
to make Matilda happy — much like Kit's role at that moment. 


‘Yeah, a monster,’ the voice in his head teased Kit. 'Is it easier to 
pretend he's fictional? He's in you too, you know. You were just a 
baby, just like Matilda, and the monster is in you too — you could turn 
on her any time...' Kit swallowed hard and banished the voice, like 
he had done many times before. 


Matilda blinked at him, then held up the well-sucked rusk, as if 
offering it. He smiled at this little gesture (intended or not) and 
instead guided it back to her mouth. "It's yours, Munchkin. I'm sure 
your... friend would share with me if it wanted to." That distant 
laughter happened again, and Kit was suddenly aware he may have 
another listener to his story. 


"So, he was playing there because it was quiet, and he liked reading 
the names on the graves and drawing the lives the people may have 


had. He wasn't good at drawing, but it made him happy. And then, 
he heard crying coming from behind one grave. He crept over to it, 
not wanting to scare whoever was upset. When he got close, he saw 
the... person who was crying didn't have a body like we have. He 
didn't have flesh; he had something weird shimmering around him. It 
was like looking at a reflection in a gently moving stream." 


He shifted Matilda, who had finished her rusk, so she was sitting up 
a little more. That giant rabbit which smelt like peaches had come to 
be snuggled up against her, and her sticky little hands were holding 
the ears with a quiet fondness. When Kit fell silent, just watching 
her, Matilda — who had been looking across the room at nothing that 
Kit could see — looked up and babbled at him, as if complaining 
about his silence. She may not have understood the story, but 
something about the flow of words was curious and calming to her in 
the same breath. 


"Okay, okay. Sorry Munchkin. | was just thinking." He jiggled her a 
little on his knee, making her giggle and cuddle her bunny closer. 
"Where were we..." He mused, as if he had been looking at a book 
and had lost his place. 


"Oh, yeah. Okay, so, he didn't have skin. He was just sort of an idea 
of a person, the shape of a person with an uneven form. He was 
about as big as Jude was at the time. Jude should have been 
scared really, 'cos he had never seen such a thing, but he was more 
sad that the other boy was sad. Eventually, he reached out, and his 
hand landed on the shimmery arm as if it was there, but it was so, 
so cold." 


Matilda grasped at her bunny, leaving an ear free. Absently, Kit took 
it, the soft feeling under his fingers unfamiliar. He wondered if ever 
had toys like this growing up — did he have an over-large teddy bear 
watching over him in his own drawer-crib? Maybe his own 
upbringing would have been different if he had a childish force 
providing the soft comfort of cuddly toys and banishing the empty 
feeling of hunger he remembered from, well, his earliest memory. 


"The person, Jude thought maybe it was a boy like him, turned to 
him. He had these eyes that looked so sad, but stared at Jude 
because he was surprised Jude could see him. But Jude had always 


been able to see weird things, and that was okay. The shimmery 
boy asked why he was here, and Jude told him about the monster at 
home. How it had paws like a lion, a face like a rat's, and teeth as 
sharp as daggers." 


'Yes,' his brain hissed, dangerously low. 'Dehumanise him. That will 
make everything he did go away. How long have you been calling 
him a monster, now? Almost as long as you've seen real monsters, 
but they never did what he did, did they? Who are you trying to fool; 
humans are the true monsters.’ 


Kit held the rabbit ear tighter, and found himself speaking faster, 
wanting to finish the story, feed the baby, and get them both to bed. 
The voice in his head spoke of nightmares, but he had someone 
else to care about now, so maybe it would be kind and leave him 
restless, but dream-free. 


"Jude asked why the other boy was so sad. The boy said he had 
died, and no-one loved him. That's very sad when that happens, huh 
Munchkin?" 


Matilda blinked naively up at him, then reached up with a wavering 
hand and touched Kit's cheek. He was suddenly aware of the tear 
rolling down his cheek, and her hand connected with it, smearing it 
away. On the belly of the large rabbit toy, a handkerchief suddenly 
appeared, with his initials in dark purple thread in one corner, as if it 
belonged to him. Kit smiled sadly at the small gesture, and wiped 
away his tear, rocking Matilda a little to reassure her everything was 
Okay. 


"So, Jude thought and thought, and he remembered what made him 
feel loved. He moved closer to the ghost of the boy, and wrapped 
his arms around him, even though he was as cold as ice. He felt 
arms wrap around him, too. And Ki- Jude realised, just then, that 
love is fantastic, and love is what makes the world go around, and 
love is what everyone needs. Maybe the other boy thought that too, 
but Jude didn’t get a chance to ask. When he pulled away, the boy 
was gone, and the graveyard was quiet again. Jude found himself a 
lot less sad, and, when he went home, seeing the monster wasn't so 
bad — he was brave and stood up to it, and the monster shrank in 
size against the force of love."