I promised my mom I would kill my sister [Part 2]

This is the second part. You can find the first part here.
I promised my mom I would kill my sister [Part 1]
First I?d like to thank everyone who commented on my first post. I knew keeping this secret had taken a toll, but I don?t think I realized how much. So again, thank you.
After the incident at my birthday party, things began to change. It started small. The morning after it happened, my mother removed Tulip from school and made appointments with a behaviorist, a specialist, and her regular doctor to address the aggressive outburst.
My dad dug out the old video monitor they had used when she was a baby and returned it to its former place on her dresser. He also went through her room and removed anything that might potentially harm her . . . or someone else.
My parents didn?t realize I noticed any of this, but I was a quiet, observant child. Most of what I learned back then was through eavesdropping on phone calls or sitting in the hall outside my parents bedroom at night, listening to their conversations.
The doctors found nothing wrong with Tulip. At home she seemed content and normal as ever. Well, Tulip-normal. The behaviorist suggested that it might have been a build up of frustration from not talking or even from feeling different than other kids. It didn?t seem likely, but my parents clung to it. They worked on teaching Tulip sign language, which she seemed to enjoy but wasn?t interested in mastering.
Things stayed quiet for awhile. My parents were diligent in the beginning, never leaving Tulip alone with me. Weeks passed, then months. My parents began to relax a little, believing that maybe the attack had been a one time incident.
The peace would last for nine months and three days. I know for sure it was that long because that is exactly how many days there are between my birthday and Christmas Eve. And young me always kept track of this sort of stuff.
Christmas Eve was always busy with cookie making and christmas music. My mother loved the holidays. She?d spend a full week decorating the house. Mom and dad always made eggnog and wassail [which I did not come to appreciate until I was older.] In the evening we?d watch the Grinch cartoon, then hang our stockings from the fireplace mantel. After we went to bed, and my parents would stay up watching It?s a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Story.
Like any kid on Christmas Eve, it took me forever to fall asleep. I was certain I heard Santa on the roof at least once. I knew better than to try and peek. My parents always gave me a very stern warning of what Santa would do if I did and I wasn?t going to risk losing my presents. Eventually sleep did find me. The last time I remember seeing on my bedside clock was 3:3Oam.
An hour later I was jolted awake by a terrifying high pitched squealing. My room was almost complete dark, but by the glow of my nightlight I could see Tulip standing next to my bed, staring at me, holding something in front of her. That was where the screaming was coming from.
My father came crashing into my room and flipped on the bedroom lights, revealing Tulip who was a few feet from my bed standing very still, staring at me with the same big eyes I saw right before she bit Sean. In her hands, she was holding a white rabbit with a big red bow around its neck. To my horror, I saw that the bow wasn?t the only thing around the rabbit?s neck. Tulip was holding around the neck with both hands. The rabbit was squealing an inhuman shriek I didn?t even know rabbits could make.
She ignored my father?s entry and continued to stare at me, her upper lip twisted into a sneer. The creature fell silent but continued to flail wildly. Suddenly there was a small pop. The rabbit stopped moving. Its eyes were now dull and lifeless, mouth bloody, its legs hanging limply.
?Tulip! No!? My dad spoke with a furious intensity. She whipped her head around to face him. It was a relief to be out from under the gaze of those eyes. But I could still see her hands and the rabbit. My father was moving toward her to try and grab her. She staring over her shoulder at him, making a hissing sound. Suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and attempted to swing her around to face him. Tulip leaned in quick, biting at his hands. Dad must have thought of it too, lifting his arm just enough to dodge it.
That?s when I notice Tulips hands. She had the rabbit by the neck with one hand, and by it?s legs in the other, pulling them in opposite directions like a rubber band. Her strength was unbelievable. In seconds she had torn the rabbit in half. She whipped her head back around and looked at me. She smiled. Not a smile of happiness, just a widening of the mouth and showing her teeth. There was a gleefulness there. And a certain curiosity. Both were terrifying.
While Tulip was distracted with me, my father grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting both feet off the ground. Her mouth opened wide, unleashing a roar that ripped through the room like a train, or a tornado.
She flailed and kicked, flinging the rabbit?s corpse onto the floor in front of me. At the door, she managed to wriggle one arm out of my Dad?s grip, scratching deep gouges across his face. He screamed, but he didn?t let go.
Mom grabbed Tulip?s legs and then they were gone around the corner. I could hear Tulip screaming and thumping against the walls, followed by the slamming of her bedroom. Immediately, she began shrieking and pounding on the door. But we were safe.
The rabbit laid on my blue carpet. Blood was everywhere. His bright red ribbon made it look even worse.
A few seconds later my mother appeared with some towels. She spoke quickly and solemnly.
?Stay in here, Brian, and do not open the door until I come and get you.?
I laid back on the bed, facing away from the bloody spot on my carpet. My mother had covered it with a towel, but it was still over there. I must have fallen asleep for quite some time, because when I woke up, things were quiet again and mom was sitting on the end of my bed. I looked over where the rabbit had been, but all that was left was a faint stain.
?Brian, I?m so sorry,? my mom said quietly. I just looked at her. What could have I have said? ?Your dad and I shouldn?t have let that happen. It?s our fault. Tulip has a sickness. That was a terrible thing for you to see. I think maybe it would be good for you to get a break from . . . here. Just for a few days with Grandma.?
I just nodded. To be fair, I was only 11. Mom was right though, I felt a lot better at Grandma?s. We had a little Christmas and I stayed until New Years Day. We had a pretty good night on New Year?s Eve. We stayed up playing dominos and toasted with our glasses of carbonated grape juice.
Years later I would find out the rest of the details. Of this and other incidents. It turns out that wasn?t all she had done that night. In the living room, she had shredded every present?s paper and box. If the gift inside was fabric, plastic, or paper, she shredded that too. The mess was everywhere, with no piece bigger than a postage stamp.
That was the last year I asked Santa for a pet.
That was the same year I stopped believing in Santa.
Not my favorite holiday for obvious reasons.
I still have Fourth of July though.
Now, I don?t want you to think that my parents didn?t try to keep all of this from me. They did their best. They learned from those early mistakes. Things changed after that Christmas. But me knowing what was going on was the only way to keep me safe. I can?t imagine what things were like for them, they choices they had to make. There were no right answers.
Things changed a lot for us the next few years. We found a way to cope with it all. We found a strange kind of normal . . . for a while.
I?ll explain it next time. And tell you more about Tulip. The real Tulip. Then I think you?ll understand.
Until then,
Brian


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