Going Mental

File #2: Paintbrush

//TW//
Abandonment, Eating Disorders, and Enbyphobia

MePad stared at the file, running his fingers across it. Paintbrush, being the oldest of the group, was a bit more complex. They had more understanding than...well, almost anybody in the building. They were mature and serious for their age. 

With an inhale, MePad opened the file, a few papers falling out. Pictures? MePad flipped on over to see...a picture of Paintbrush. Younger, no doubt, with one other person. A mother or father, maybe? MePad couldn't tell based on appearance. He wouldn't try to figure it out, either, it was irrelevant at the time. 

On February 3rd, 20XX, at about 2:14 in the afternoon, a mother brought her only child, age 12, to the house. She explained that she wouldn't be able to care for the child due to some situations that had come up, and begged me to watch over them. I agreed, and she made me promise that they would eat enough. She also left me a note and told me only to read it when I needed to. Strange. 

Paintbrush Aretz is a 12 year old child who is about 5'3 , has fluffy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, dark skin, and has now joined me in my household along with Nickel Valuta. 

They go strictly by they/them pronouns. 

Paintbrush Aretz, after entering the home for the first time, cried. A lot. It must have been the fact that their mother left them here, even if it was for a good cause. Luckily, MePad was visiting, and was able to comfort and calm Paintbrush down.

MePad smiled at being mentioned. He didn't exactly know why it made him feel so....giddy, and happy, but it did. Maybe it was because MePad looked up to MePhone so much. He was a bit...unpredictable, sure, but he was a good older brother either way. MePad had to admit that.

He ran his fingers across the file once more, glancing at the few photos of Paintbrush. One happened to be a picture of Paintbrush standing next to a painted canvas. It had a ribbon on it that said "#1." 

MePad squinted, looking closer a the photo. The canvas had bright colors with a landscape of a lake and some trees. It was...insanely impressive, no doubt. In the right corner, it had a signature. Paintbrush Aretz. Paintbrush was an artist, huh? An amazing one, too. MePad glanced back at the file to double check Paintbrush's age. 12. MePad continued reading.

Nickel Valuta, the first child to join my household, was not excited or impressed at Paintbrush Aretz arrival. Nickel would act annoyed at their presence in a room, and wouldn't speak anything to them unless it was to correct them or insult them.

This concerned me. I tried to get them to interact, but they were always at each others throats. It had been made clear to me that they hadn't met, so I assumed it was the attention Paintbrush was getting that irritated Nickel.

Paintbrush, on the first day, ate a small bag of chips and 3 apple slices. On the second day, they ate 14 pieces of cereal, not bowls, pieces. Individual. On the third day, they at half of a banana and bowl of chicken noodle soup. They didn't want to eat anything else. Maybe they did want to, actually. Maybe they just refused. 

Day four. I made Paintbrush sit at the table and eat a full meal. Day five was the day MePad left. Day six was the worst.

On day six I went into the kitchen and found it a mess. There was food everywhere, and I mean everywhere. In the sink, splattered across the fridge. The ground was covered with what I believed was eggs. Maybe a mixture of eggs and milk. It disgusted me. The smell was even worse.