Going Mental

File #3: Soap

//TW//
IMPLIED SELF HARM, CHILD ABUSE, MURDER MENTIONS,

Soap. Soap was all about perfection. She was all about having everything perfect.

It was beautiful and horrible all at once. Her grace. Her ability to recognize the little things. Her obsession damaging her hands and body. Her panic attacks when things aren't just right. MePad flipped open her file. It was neater than the previous ones. Of course it was. Was MePhone trying to make a point? Or was it to mock her?

It didn't matter, either way, MePad's main goal was to understand the children, and if reading these files were what it took, he would do it.

On February 16th, at 6:47 PM, Soap Suds arrived at the house. It was raining, and she was completely soaked.

Soap Suds is 9 years old. She is 5'3, has light brown shaved hair, bright blue eyes, and fair skin.

I quickly brought her inside as she rambled on about some sort of school and guns and ropes. I couldn't get her to slow down.

Nickel could.

I don't know what it was, but Nickel was quickly able to control her breathing and get her to stop talking so she could recollect her thoughts. Paintbrush brought blankets and some of their spare clothes so she could warm up. Though they don't realize it, Paintbrush and Nickel are a good team.

Soap took a while to gather her thoughts, and finally started from the beginning.

Soap Suds was born when her mother was only 17. Bad choices her mom decided to make, she said. She was born inside of a boarding school and was kept and raised there. By the ripe age of 3, she was expected to do her own dishes, laundry, and basically take care of herself. And...she did. She did all of that. By 5, she began taking classes in the school. That's when hell truly became a reality for her.

I've grown to trust the kids. I know they wouldn't just lie to cover something they did in the past--they're young. Naive. I know better than that, especially after meeting Nickel.

At Soap's school, things were terrible. Speak out of turn? You get beaten. Get a question wrong? You get beaten. Spill something, forget something, don't be asleep when you're supposed to, need to go to the bathroom during hours you're supposed to be in class or in your room or in the dining hall? Get beaten.

Soap had it the worst. Being born at this school, she was expected to do everything right. If she didn't, her punishment was much more than just a slap on the wrist. She proved this to me, showing scars up and down her arms and legs as well as stomach and even her neck.

She said they shaved her head after it accidentally got caught on a tree branch. It was a distraction to other students, so they cut it.

When it grew out, she secretly dyed it pink. Other students had dyed hair, so she thought it'd be fine.

They beat her and shaved it again.

By the age of 9, she had grown so worried and fearful of being imperfect that it became her whole life. Cleaning, ordering things correctly, getting everything right--no, PERFECT,

That's when it became an obsession. She'd have panic attacks when things weren't right. She'd claw at her skin until she bleed if she couldn't fix something. It was a nightmare for her. A living nightmare.

And then the school headmaster murdered a student right in front of her. Police showed up. They charged the school, shooting the principal dead when he tried to hold another student hostage. The officers tried to take her into questioning, but in a blind panic she ran away. They weren't able to find her.

She ended up here. With me. With me and Nickel and Paintbrush, who just so happened to run away away or be abandoned here.

This wasn't a coincidence. I knew it wasn't. The children--yes, the world is a cruel place, and this happens all the time. The children showing up at my doorstep? Someone HAD to have been directing them here.

I need to get to the bottom of it, no doubt.

MePad stared at this. Yes, he did in fact know why the children all ended up here, and it was partly mostly all his fault.

He was alerted of any tragedy's that involved children. Nickel and Soap were just the beginning, though Paintbrush was pure coincidence. He was directed to find ways to lead them to MePhone. Posters, paths, nearly getting hit by cars if it meant they'd end up in MePhones care.

MePad didn't know why he got these instructions. But they were his instructions.

He heard a pounding on his door. One of the children, perhaps? Maybe Toilet. He ignored it and continued reading.

Soap is very helpful around the house, offering to clear the table after eating, help with the dishes, make the beds in the guest room, and over all just clean the house to her best abilities. It seemed her whole personality was cleaning.

Until, of course, she found me playing the piano in the piano room. She entered in when she hard music, and slowly but surely decided to sing along. It scared me fairly bad, not actually knowing she was there until I heard her soft singing.

But she has a beautiful voice. Soft, yet so powerful. That's an oxymoron, I know, but it somehow...makes sense. I played the piano while she sang. Any mistake I made didn't bother her. Any mistake she made didn't bother her. Music seemed to wash away any of her fears and obsessions.

It's a beautiful thing, really. She even got a compliment out of Nickel, which was sweet. Paintbrush gushed over her talent. Nickel told her she was "pretty outstanding, I guess." It was the thought that counts.

I love them. I love kids, I love taking care of them and helping the with anything they've gone through. I love hearing their argument because I know they'll make up and it's a mess and it's perfect.

I didn't know I could love this much. I've never met anyone who gave me that spark I was looking for--excpet for MePad of course, but we're brothers. The kids though, they filled that hole in my life that I didn't know I needed filled.

My goal is now to take care of them. I want to raise them to success. I want them to live the life I couldn't, and that's because I love them. I love them and I'd never forgive myself if one of them got hurt.

A little late for that, MePad thought to himself. Okay, not a little. Far too late for that. What had happened? Why had MePhone become so coldhearted and unloving.

The pounding on his door continued. Still, he ignored it. His chest ached with sadness. He wanted his passionate, loving, forgiving, persistent, a little wacky but still collected, older brother. He wanted--NEEDED that back.

Somehow, MePhone writing out that, in a way, the children filled hole he couldn't fill, heartbreaking. He wanted to be good enough then, but now it seemed he was the only one good enough. MePhone adored the children, he truly did, and MePad always came in second. Now it seemed the only person to do anything right was--well, himself!

Something had occured. Something that twisted MePhones mind into hating those kids. All his compassion and love for them, gone. They were now pawns in a game he was playing. But why? And more importantly, how? How did this happen?

MePad knew it had something to do with...him. That freak of nature, but what could have happened in order to completely change MePhones mindset? What...?

I love them.

I'll never ever let anything happen to them. Never.

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