Carnage was only ten years old, but wore the evidence of a deeply troubled child on her arms. Scars of varying degrees of severity covered her skin. Superficial scars, deep enough to bleed but not deep enough to do any serious damage. She stood before me, her face contorted in rage; screaming in my direction.
“What the FUCK? Why does she have to do this shit?!”
Carnage picked up a book and flung it across the room, narrowly missing my head. Her rage had been triggered by the fact that Bunny, a blonde seven year old, had painted her face to look like, well, a Bunny. The makeup had long since been washed off, but her rage had spun out of control like a car with its brake line cut.
“She thinks she's so fucking cute. Little brat!”
Carnage's anger broke my heart. I didn't quit understand yet where it came from, but seeing a ten year old filled with such rage was difficult.
“I'm sure she didn't mean any harm,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral and hoping I could calm the volatile ten year old.
“Leave her alone!” Frankie, a fifteen year old girl with a penchant for denim and leather, spoke up; clearly ready to defend Bunny.
“I don't get why Carnage even cares. She's out of control, and scares Bunny. She really scares Trouble," Frankie exclaimed, cracking her knuckles. A habit she had had as long as I had known her.
Frankie was an aggressive but protective teenager. She had been described as an asshole to me, but did not share the blind rage of Carnage. When I first met Frankie the others did not trust her at all. She was unpredictable, but after a while she was accepted. However, because of her age, she kept mostly to herself. At fifteen she was protective, but did not fit within the age range of any of the other girls.
“Trouble, are you willing to talk?” I said softly to the shy four year old in blonde pigtails.
Clutching a comic book to her chest (which she mostly just had for the pictures), she shuffled her feet and muttered something while staring at the ground.
“Sweety, you need to speak up,” I said gently.
The small child continued to stare at the ground; this time while biting her lip and sucking the side of her thumb.
“Carnage scares me,” she said a bit louder, but still softly enough that I had to strain to hear.
I knelt down beside trouble who adored wearing pink overalls.
“And do you mind when Bunny paints your face?”
“No! It's fun!” Trouble replied, grinning up at me.
“It's total bullshit!!” Carnage replied, "oh and tell Trouble to stop putting her hair into pigtails. She looks stupid!"
Her temper was as red as the clothes she wore. Carnage was always in something red. I stood to face her. She had calmed down a bit, but still had proverbial steam coming out of her ears.
“Carnage, I understand you are upset, but you're scaring the younger ones. I really need you to take a deep breath.”
“No,” Carnage sneered, folding her arms.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, and sighed. I was at my wits end with this girl. She was difficult to control, and didn't seem to want to even attempt to improve. Suddenly I got an idea.
“I think I'd like to talk to Sophie,” can you get her for me?
“Sure,” Frankie's voice spoke up, “she'll know how to deal with the little brat.”
