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Little Rafaella Redfield Kennedy, affectionately known as Ella, sits on her bed and rubs the sleep off her eyes with her tiny hands. Squinting, she looks around her bedroom, sees shapes and forms that are illuminated whenever a flash of lightning strikes through the clouds outside. She turns her attention to the window, then, to conclude that the clouds are heavy and a thunderstorm is on its way. Such fact leaves little Ella with a big dillema: jump out of bed and make her way downstairs to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water or stay tucked in bed, safe from the thunder and the rain?
It's not that she's scared, of course not (but she is, though, she is very much scared), it's just that she's tired, mommy and daddy are asleep and she doesn't want to disturb them. So much can happen on her way downstairs; the rattle of the doorknob could be way too loud or she could accidently drop something, like her lamp or the books next to it.
She's a clumsy 5-year-old and her parents have tiring jobs, they need their rest.
Her hesitation comes out of concern, not fear, and she wants that written down. Let it be known that Ella Redfield Kennedy is brave and fierce, the threat of a thunderstom barely bothers her.
Another quiet lightning goes by and she gulps, realizing then how dry and sore her throat feels. That's it. She needs some water. Sighing, she gets out of her bed, tiny feet covered in baby pink socks in contrast to her white pajamas, honey colored hair falling down her shoulders. She stands in place for a second or two.
Really, what could be downstairs at 2:00 AM in the morning?
Nothing.
Any monster hiding there would have surely ran away by now, what with the incoming storm and whatnot.
Deeming it safe to proceed, little Ella takes small steps. She opens the door carefully, looks straight ahead to her parents' bedroom, tries to pretend she's not disappointed their door is closed and they are, in fact, sleeping. She walks slowly, forgets about the light switch on the wall and uses the lightning as her only guide. She's too young too understand the irony in that but she definitely feels something is funny about the situation.
To her surprise, climbing down the stairs is easy and quick, and she refuses to look around, focuses only on the path to the kitchen. Once there, she grabs a chair from the dinning table, positions it in front of the sink cabinet before cautiously getting on top of it. Stretching her arms up, she opens the cupboard and fetches herself a clean glass. Smiling, she takes advantage of the fact she's already in front of the sink and opens the faucet, lets the water pour in her glass. Satisfied, she closes the faucet, puts the glass on the counter, steps off the chair, puts it back in place and then grabs her glass with both hands.
In her mind her plan has been perfectly exceuted and nothing can stand in her way.
Turning on her heel, she fastens her pace back to her bedroom but as she approaches the living room, something changes. She can't find the words to explain exactly what; it's the drop in temperature, the shadows in the room, the corners that seem ready to trap her. She walks steadily to the stairs and as she's about to climb that first step, just when she thinks she's close to victory, a thunder strikes so loud and clear the walls of the house seem to rumble and shake and little Ella screams, closing her eyes and dropping her precious glass of water.
As if to cover up her voice, make a mockery of her fear even, rain starts pouring, filling up the streets and the world and every crack in between.
Her eyes still closed, she hears two sets of footsteps running, her mother's voice calling her name and soon a pair of hands are on her shoulders, squeezing gently.
"Sweetie, what happened?" her mother asks before noticing the broken glass on the floor, some shattered pieces scattered a bit further away. "Oh, no, are you hurt?" Ella manages to shake her head but there's another thunder that makes her yelp and she's in her mother's arms within a second.
"Get her back to our room," her father says, his broad hand on the back of her head in a gentle caress. "I'll clean this up."
Ella hears her mother's sweet and calming voice and then lets herself be carried away, her little face tucked neatly in the crook of her mother's neck, eyes still closed tightly, a suddder running through her small body when she hears yet another thunder.
"There, there," she feels her mother's hand running up and down her back. "It's all good now, you're safe here."
When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in her parents' bed but she refuses to let go of the safety from being in her mother's arms.
"What were you doing there all alone, huh?"
"...I weally wanted some water, Mommy."
"And you went to get it all by yourself?"
Ella nods. "I know I shouldn't but I was weally thiwsty and it wasn't waining so much and and and the sky wasn't being loud-"
"You dropped the glass when you heard the thunder-"
"But I was being bwave, Mommy, I weally was."
Her mother gives her a small laugh, kisses the top of her head. " You really were," she starts, directing her attention to the figure standing by the door. "Wasn't she, Leon?"
Smiling, he offers the little girl a brand new glass of water. "Of course she was," he says. "Our little girl here can scare away storms."
"I can't, Daddy, I twied," Ella answers before taking a big sip of water. "But I got scawed."
"That's when we're at our bravest," her mother says, waiting for her to finish drinking so she can put the now empty glass on the nightstand. "When we do things even though we're scared."
"It's true," her father chimes in, getting back on the bed and settling himself next to her. "I had a similar experience many years ago."
"The wain scawed you, too?"
"Not quite the rain," he explains. "See, I was new on this one town, scary things were happening. And I was terrified. Then I meet this girl and she tells me her name is Claire and she's new in town too and I realize I'm not alone anymore."
"You mean Mommy!" Ella exclaims.
Leon laughs, shoots a knowing look at Claire who's smiling at him. "Yeah, I do, Sweetheart."
"What about you, Mommy?" the little girl asks, looking up.
"Same here," Claire answers, runs her hands through Ella's hair. "Meeting your father changed my life, you know that? I feel really brave with him."
"I'm not that scawed when I'm with you and Daddy."
"Phew," Leon chuckles. "That's very good to know, Sweetheart."
"Is that also your way of saying you want to sleep here tonight?" Claire asks.
"May I, Mommy?"
Claire takes a moment, pretends to think it over before telling her daughter yes.
And that's how little Rafaella Redfield Kennedy finds herself in the middle of her parents' bed, protected by them, safe from all harm, falling asleep slowly to the sound of pouring and deciding that a thunder is not so bad, after all.
It's just noise.