scratch

Chapter 15 - The Past, It Changes (Kaden POV)

NOT EDITED.

Chapter 15 — The Past, The Decisions, The Results and Changes (Kaden POV)

How much of children came from biology? I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have said much but Ree and Morgan, Sawyer and Tristan, the four of them not only had mannerisms of myself but my family. The way Tristan would open his eyes as wide as they could go when he was listening, like my brother and grandfather. Or the way that Sawyer when she was anxious, like my mother, like Etta, she'd tap her index finger when her hand was laid out flat on any surface.

And like Etta when Sawyer had a question, she was a thinker, her forehead creased; she bit her lips rolling the words around her mind probably — like Etta. Not wanting to rush her, I continue feeding Ree, until finally, "Do you really smell things like me?" she asked.

"Yes..." not being raised with supernatural parents and with the social worker not paying attention, "when I was younger, about ten," I made sure I kept eye contact, "I used to hear a voice in my head too."

Looking away, fidgeting with the utensils, "what did they voice in your head tell you?"

"Well... sometimes it would tell me jokes... or it would keep me company, tell me things... give me advice..."

Again the finger tapping, "Did it go away?"

I wanted to trust my children; I wanted to be honest with Sawyer, with all of them, "When I was about nineteen and with my family, someone took me and they did bad things to me, and what they did, made all the talking stop." With wide frightened eyes "Why did they take you? The bad people I mean?"

"People like us, like Etta and I, John, Ree, Morgan, all of us, we normally live together in big groups so that when those people that try to harm us do that... we can all defend each other. I was alone once and not paying attention and they took me," she nodded, turning back to her own plate. Putting some food in her mouth, chewing and swallowing, she started up again, "How did you get away from the bad people?"

Sighing, scooping some oatmeal in Ree's spoon, I try to water down for a seven year old how I escaped the monsters that had taken hold of me, "The bad people had me locked away, and they would let me out for experiments — do you know what that means?"

Giving me a 'duh of course I do' look, "It's what you do when you have a theory and — and you want to test your answer," she says confidently. Trying to think back I wondered if I knew that answer when I was her age, and I did. "How did you know that?"

Giggling her smile wide, "Arthur and Magic School Bus and Sesame Street," she counts on her right hand.

"Okay well, the bad people they would do experiments on me, trying different yucky medicines..." I make a twisted face, crossing my eyes, making it humorous for her when inside my stomach curls when I remember the truth of my time with them.

"So they — they gave you yucky medicine when you were not sick?" her eyes wide.

Nodding, "Did they give you the needle? I hate the needle!"

"Yes, they gave me lots of needles," I shake my head, "what did the medicine do to you? It took your voice away?" she tapped the side of her head.

"Yes... it took my voice away and when they gave me the medicine it — I had to listen and do whatever they wanted me too."

"Like — like if you took the medicine you had to — you did whatever they said to do? Even — like even when you didn't want too?" she asks as though she's never heard of such a thing, and immediately, I promise myself that she — none ­of my children — would ever be in that position.