“I can’t smell it.” I inhale deeply in case I get the smell she does.
“Hmmm, popcorn. Yum. I’ve gotta go.” She hops up off the bed, and four other property cards fall out of her pockets.
“Hey!” I grumble as I pick up the cards and wave them at Kate.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” She winks at me, as if to say, I’m not really sorry. “Popcorn.” She wipes at her mouth and leaves my room in a hurry.
I pack up the game and put it away. Kate always makes me feel better. Even when she disappears at the smell of popcorn. “Can’t believe you chose popcorn over me,” I mumble.
I grab my dumbbells, and start working on my arms again. This time, not to punish myself, but to improve myself. To be stronger, because they deserve for me to be stronger for them.
The moment I saw him huddled on the floor I knew I had to do something. I can’t stand seeing AJ like that.
AJ is tough and strong. But seeing him a crumpled mess just screws with my head. It hurts me to see him so broken.
When he shoved me against the wall, I knew how bad this one was going to be. Usually he can hold it together enough to get the job done. I shouldn’t have tried to interfere. It’s not my place to hinder his work. He has a responsibility, and he has a commitment to it, regardless of how we feel.
Standing outside Neve’s bedroom door, I take a few deep breaths before I go in to see her. I hate having to come in here, but I know Neve needs me. Especially in these times.
I creak the door open, and Neve is sitting in the corner on the floor, hugging her knees, crying.
“Hey, Neve,” I say, taking in her appearance.
Neve is the youngest of us. She’s eleven, but she’s lived a hard eleven years. We all have. Neve looks up to see who’s in her room, the moment her gaze falls on me, she lowers her head again and draws her knees in tighter.
“Do you want to play a game?” I ask as I slowly approach her.
“No thank you,” she says in a small voice.
“Do you want to color?” I sit cross-legged beside her.
Neve doesn’t answer. Her tears seem to have stopped. “Okay,” she replies after a long time. I stand and hold my hand out to her. She shakes her head. She pushes up off the floor and follows me to the desk in her room. I open a drawer, and take out a coloring book and some pencils. “I like this one,” she says and points to another book.
I smile as I look at it. “It’s my favorite one,” I say. The coloring book has stars, planets, and the universe in it. I empty the pencils on the table, and Neve flinches when they hit the hard wood. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
She reaches for the yellow, and begins to shade in a scene that has the sun shining, and tall flowers among thick grass fields. “I want to lay with the flowers,” she says in a small voice.
Her limp hair is hanging over her face. Smudges of dirt darken her cheeks. Her young eyes are so hollow. “Can I lay with you?” I ask. “We can look up at the clouds, and watch as the birds fly over us.”
“No. I don’t want you there,” she answers candidly. “I want it to be just me. I want to be somewhere where I’ll never hear that song again.”
My stomach churns as I listen to Neve. I can completely understand that she wouldn’t want anyone there. “What would you do if you were in the flowers?” I pick the red pencil up, and color in a flower.
Neve’s head is down, she’s coloring on the edge of the page. She shrugs her shoulders. The room is quiet, and tense. The curtains are drawn, so the only light is what’s coming from the overhead bulb. “I’d stay there until I became a flower.”
“But flowers die,” I say as we continue to color.
“I want to die,” she says in her soft voice.
I stop coloring, and lift my head to look at her. She doesn’t understand the heaviness of what she’s said. Or maybe she does, and she actually wants to die. “Do you know what my favorite food is?” I ask, trying my hardest to get her thoughts away from the burden she must feel like she’s bearing.
“No.”
My heart breaks for Neve. She’s so young, and gentle. And her voice is anything but angry or sad. It tears my heart into two, watching her color while she talks about dying. “I love popcorn,” I say.
“I’m not allowed popcorn. One time I was allowed ice cream.” Her face remains stoic, unchanged despite the emptiness she must be feeling.
We both reach for the pencils, and my fingers accidently touch the back of her hand. She swiftly pulls it away and looks up, her face filled with fright. She stares at me for a split second before she begins screaming. The ear-piercing noise she makes is filled with horror.
“I’m sorry,” I say, jumping back. “I’m sorry, Neve, I’m sorry.” I hold my hands up, showing her how I’m not a threat. “I’m so sorry.”
Neve’s eyes are still wide with terror. She’s breathing rapidly, as her hands tremble in clenched fists.
“Neve, look. Can you help me color?” I move forward quickly, pick up another pencil and color the grass green.
Neve stops screaming, but remains in the same spot. I can hear her breathing heavy as she settles herself. Her little shoulders are slumped as she stands, not really sure what she should do.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, and I mean it every time I say it. Tears well in my eyes, but I hold them in. I can’t have Neve see me crying for her. I hate how I made her scream. I hate that I caused her pain.
“It’s okay,” she says in a tiny voice.
“I know you don’t like being touched. I was careless.”
“You didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident.” Neve has a beautiful heart. She’s so forgiving of everything around her.
“I won’t do it again. I’ll be more careful.”
I hear her crawling along the floor, coming back to the table. Out of my peripheral vision, I see her pick up another pencil and continue coloring. The safest thing for me to do is slide most of the pencils to her side, so I don’t mistakenly touch her again. I see her cheeks puff up, like she’s trying to smile. “Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome.”
“Maybe next time you can bring me some popcorn and I can try it.”
“I can ask AJ to bring some.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t like seeing AJ. I know he has to be here, but I also know what happens when I see him. He never visits me unless it’s to tell me it’s time.”
My heart is squashed. My entire body feels crushed. I pick the pink pencil up, and color one of the flowers. “Which is your favorite color? I like yellow,” I say.
“Purple is mine.”
“Why purple?”
“When I look at purple, I see so many possibilities. Like, if it’s dark, I see strength. When it’s a light purple, I see happiness. But I don’t like red. When I see red I see pain.” She shakes her head, like she’s dislodging a particularly unpleasant image. “I hate red.” She picks the pencil up, stares at it for a moment, before she snaps it in half and throws both pieces on the table. “There’s too much red around me.”