“I a big girl!” Marcia said firmly. She squirmed, trying to resist the growing pressure in her abdomen. Like she said, she was a big girl! Big girls pooped in the potty, not their pants!
“Yes, you are wearing training pants like a big girl would.” The banshee patted Marcia’s head. “But I think your parents might have put you in big girl pants a bit too early.” Marcia’s bladder finally gave way, flooding her training pants with urine.
“I fine,” Marcia said, trying to be confident. “Big girls pee big girl pants.” The banshee chuckled.
“Yes, but they don’t make boom-boom, do they?” the banshee asked snidely. Marcia’s knees bent into an instinctive squat.
“No! No boom-boom!” Marcia pleaded. She clenched her muscles, but it was hopeless. With a loud rumble, her bowels emptied into her wet training pants. She let out a sob. “I make boom-boom,” she wailed. The banshee picked her up.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you to someone who can put you in the diapers you need.” Before Marcia’s eyes, the banshee transformed into a maid. The banshee then set off down the hall, searching for one of the actual staff members.
“No!” Marcia begged. The banshee sighed.
“It’s for your own good, girl!” They turned a corner. Rusty stood in the hall, frowning at a painting. “Excuse me, sir?” Rusty looked up.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I found this little girl in the hall, wandering around, with some horribly messy training pants.”
“…Oh.” Rusty sighed. “Hand her over, I’ll take care of her.” The banshee gave Marcia to Rusty.
“She was babbling about ghosts, the silly girl.”
“Heh. Well, like I said, I can make sure she gets whatever she needs,” Rusty said. “Thank you.” The banshee curtsied, then disappeared behind another corner. Rusty looked down at the name tag on the front of Marcia’s outfit. “Three years old, huh?”
“Yes,” Marcia mumbled.
“That’s a bit old to be having such messy accidents, but I guess you probably got scared in the mansion all by yourself,” Rusty said kindly. Marcia’s thumb somehow found its way to her mouth and she began to suck on it. She nodded morosely to what Rusty was saying. Her mind was running a mile a minute, trying to think of how to convince Rusty of who she was.
“I big girl,” she said weakly.
“I’m sure you are.” Rusty frowned at Marcia’s name tag. “Wait. Marcia Caldwell?” Marcia nodded. “I know who you are!” Hope soared in Marcia’s chest. “You’re…”