The scene plays in my mind on repeat, blocking out the road.
His palm flies against my cheek.
My head snaps to the side.
The Traders stare at us.
The snow dribbles down my face.
The Ufir's shouts rip through me.
And there's nothing I can do about it. I bristle, angry, at the man accusing me, insulting me for something not my fault, something I could do nothing about.
But I have no control.
The Ufir is screaming at me for not keeping control of Riveirre, not stopping the cart. Screaming about something I had nothing to do with. Screaming just to make himself feel better, higher, stronger, more powerful.
'What's wrong with you?' he screeched. Mama set a hand on his shoulder, but he backhanded her. 'Why can't you do anything right?'
'I'm trying, I'm trying...' My fingers twitched a constant, comforting beat on my leg.
'You're such an idiot! You're all'—he gestured angrily—'messed up! Why are you so stupid?'
My tense posture relaxes until I'm just standing there. The only defense against a loss of control.
They laughed.
'How did you end up here? You're too small to be with us.' One of the older undercity kids shoved me against the stony classroom wall. 'Go back to the toddler school.'
'I'm not a toddler!'
They laughed.
'Whatever.'
'Get out of here.'
I stood there, resolute, and they continued to yell. Insult. Push.
But then I realized something.
They can't hurt a shell.
So I stand. I take it. If I block it out and ignore it, it can't bother me. It doesn't mean anything.
But then Riveirre pushes forward, hitting the Ufir, yelling at him.
None of it matters, all of it's distant. I don't have to care. It doesn't affect me; there's nothing I can do anyway. The Trader women begin to drip around us. Riveirre turns back to me.
None of this matters. I don't need to do anything.
The drip becomes a thin stream. She says something.
Just ignore it all. I only need to be a shell.
The stream becomes a lazy river. She repeats herself, more definitively.
Leave me alone.
The river becomes a flood. She takes my arm, pulling me along.
I'm just a shell. I just need to do what I'm told. It's the best defense. We mix into the water, pretending we fit, match, belong. We pretend not to be oil.
But now, nobody's yelling, nobody's angry, and the last person I ever expected to stand up for me is leading me along like I've taken a vacation from reality.
I'm not broken. I shrug her off.