My jaw slacked a little as Kota slid the plate of pancakes over the countertop in front of me. A stack of three medium flapjacks drizzled in syrup with a few strawberries lining the plate's edge. The world blurred; a cool drop ran it's course down my cheek and I fiddled with with course ends of my hair. I couldn't remember the last time I was free to enjoy this much food — not that I could stomach it of course, but that wasn't the point. This was the first time I was given something without a price to pay, without consequences or brutality to follow.
Well, I guess that's still in question, but I didn't get that feeling with Kota. As scary as he was in the beginning, Jack was far worse and that I handled for years.
On top of everything the sight was emotionally, this was also the first read food I'd had since Jack let me finish the pasta. I wasn't even sure how long ago it's been, time was being funny, as all I've been doing is resting.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Kota's voice was so soft, I could tell he truly cared that something was bothering me. "Oh, gosh, did I do something wrong? Do you not like pancakes? Oh no, you're allergic to something on the plate, aren't you?" He reached to take the plate back, but froze when I giggled. His bombardment of questions, feeling like he messed up, changed my overwhelmed tears, to happy ones. Because he had become so worried he did something wrong, when really, he'd done everything right.
Wiping my tears with my knuckle, I grabbed the plate back and picked up a fork. His smile stretched to his ears as he watched me take a couple bites.
"Well?" I gave him a thumbs up. "Can I ask you more questions while you eat?" I hesitated a split moment before nodding. He grinned, but I could see him studying my features, telling me he was going to tread lightly. "Let's start with: are you feeling better?"
That surprised me he chose that first. I swallowed my bite and gave a nod. While it wasn't one hundred percent true, it was true enough. I wasn't sure when I would really be better. He motioned to my arm and I focused on what kind of pain was coming from that part of my body. I studied my untouched purple cast, and felt nothing. The cast was heavy, but that was it. Looking Kota in the eyes, I shook my head, even waving my arm around a little to prove I wasn't in pain.
He let out a breath I didn't notice he had been holding. "That's good, I'm glad. I don't want you to suffer any more pain."
I gave him an appreciative smile before taking another bite. Most likely my last as my stomach couldn't handle much. He moved on to his next inquiry.
"Are you an only child?"
This one made me think. I wasn't sure what to call myself anymore. My sister died alongside my mother, so did that make me an only child, or was I still a sister? Eventually I decided on yes, I was still a sister, I still have a sister, even if it's only in heart and memory.
I arranged my hands into the ASL sign for "sister," hoping he might understand.
He furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating. "Brother?" I shook my head, and he tried again, "Sister?" I nodded and he smiled, only to drop it when he took in my expression. "Gone?" I nodded sadly and put my thumb to my chin, my fingers spread apart. He knew this one, "your mom too?" My expression was answer enough and he grabbed my hand gently across the counter. "I'm sorry, Eirenae."
Retracting them from his grip, I held up my hands to show seven fingers.
"It's been seven years?" When I shake my head he furrows his brow, "it happened when you were seven." I confirmed and continued, "that must've been hard." I didn't answer and instead just scooped a strawberry into my mouth.
He cleared his throat. "Have you been living with your father your entire life, then?"
I set the fork on my plate, not meeting his eyes and not answering the question. I pushed the plate to him to let him know I was done.
Kota looked down, finding I'd only eaten one of the strawberries and just over half of one pancake. "That's it, your full?" He was astounded, but I felt stuffed. Did he really expect me to finish it? His green eyes darkened with concern, but I was surprised he was so shocked. I was built small naturally, and I was obviously malnourished.
"Hi, Eirenae." A small voice interrupted. I started a little and looked down to find the twins staring at me with owl-like blue eyes. I smiled and gave a tiny wave.
What sounded like a groan came from Kota, "I see you've met my sisters."
They were his sisters! The age gap shocked me a little, but studying their features now that I've been spending time with Kota, I could see they shared some. Different colors, but same eye shape. Similar ears and chins, and same skin tone. Kota's hair was dark brown, while the twins's was on the edge of red, but I definitely saw resemblance.
"If they bother you, don't be afraid to let me know. They can be a little crazy."
"Hey!" The one with her hair done in ponytails exclaimed, folding her arms. I think it was Amber. She seemed to do all the talking for the two of them. But they were so hard to tell apart!
"Amber, Autumn, why don't you go find Mom." Kota told them.
"She's right there." The other said. She pointed in front of her. Kota and I turned our heads.
A woman stepped into the kitchen, spotted me, and let out an excited shriek. She rushed over but with inhuman speed and strength, Kota cleared the counter and blocked her. "Kota?" She seemed offended.
"Gentle, Mother." He said softly and she took a deep breath.
"Right, I'm sorry. I'm just excited about your mate!"
I furrowed my eyebrows. Mate? What's that? But Kota nodded. "Mom, this is Eirenae; Eirenae, this is my mother." He stepped out of the way and let her walk a few steps closer.
She was a taller woman with short, strawberry colored hair. She wore a white striped t-shirt with a knitted black cardigan and a simple pearl necklace hung from her neck. Just from one look at her, you would think she would be, at most, thirty (but I knew that was impossible because that would mean she had Kota when she was twelve).
Even though I expected who I would see: the twins' mother from the park, she was definitely taken aback when she recognized me.
Amber spoke before her. "It's the girl from the park, Momma!"
"That it is," she whispered and she reached to give me a hug. When I flinched on instinct, she halted and drew her arms back, and Kota, eyes like a hawk, didn't miss a thing. I glanced at him, but he didn't speak up.
"When we met at the park, you seemed unwell; are you doing better? I hope my son has been doing everything to help."
I nodded and slipped a small smile. I wanted her to know her son had been helping.
She beamed, "well, just know that I am here too. And you can call me Eden, or Mrs. Anderson I suppose. Whichever one you're comfortable with."
When I didn't respond, she looked confused and like she wanted to continue for a second, but before she could say anything more one of the twins grabbed her hand and pulled her away, yapping about some game in mind.
"They don't have long attention spans yet." Kota laughed, taking my plate and scarfing down the remainder of my food. Shocked, I stared and leaned slightly back from the counter. He ate that like a dog!
He dumbed the plate in the sink and came back to me, taking my hand. The little sparks erupted and I flinched a little, causing Kota to chuckle. He let go, this time moving in more slowly.
"Want to watch a movie or something? Take your mind off things for a while?" I stood up, giving him his answer. He chuckled and led me up the stairs, back to his room. The stairs were slow, but he didn't carry me this time, letting me get there on my own. I appreciated that, because I knew I needed to gain strength back and if anyone coddled me it would be worse.
"Here, I'll set it up, and you can shower and change into clean clothes. That okay?"
I almost burst with happiness. I'd been wearing the same clothes since the day they all brought me here; I was probably so gross!
His eyes lit up at my giddiness. "Alright, you go and shower and I'll get clothes from one of the girls."
I nodded and headed into the bathroom. I slowly took off my tattered, dirty clothes, moving carefully. I placed them in a pile on the floor, leaving my necklace on around my neck, and looked in the mirror.
My face was still pretty covered in makeup, so I searched the cabinets and drawers for any sort of remover solution. I gave up after a minute or two, realizing a teenage boy wouldn't have makeup remover in his bathroom. Instead I grabbed a washcloth I found and used water to gently scrub it off.
When I was done, I studied myself in the mirror. It looked significantly better than even a few days ago. I was still as skinny as a tree branch, my elbows and knees knobby, my shoulders and hips sharp. My lip was still cut, but it wasn't as obvious. My cheek and eye bruises were faded, but the few cuts on my forehead were completely gone. My arms were pretty beat up: the right forearm and shoulder were various shades of blue and purple, and the left was in the hard cast up to my elbow. My left shoulder had some small spots as well. Only one laceration remained, and it was mostly healed as well.
My torso was wrapped in a bandage, to prevent me from bending much so my ribs could heal. One of my legs also had a bandage from a gash that would heal slower than the small cuts that were everywhere else.
What really caught my attention, though, was my neck. There were still angry red hand marks of Jack's hands across my neck, mostly behind my hair on the back, but a little poked through around the front by my throat.
Now I understood why Kota got so upset this morning. For some reason, he must feel connected to me as I am to him; he must've been mad at whoever hurt me like this. I mean, it was hard not to see it was created by hands. At least he didn't see all of it, only a little bit of red.
I sighed and stepped in the shower, letting the warm water hit my bruises. I wished there was a way I could just scrub them all away. I knew they'd heal on their own time, but I hated being broken.
That's how I felt: broken. I couldn't understand why Kota and the others had taken such interest in me. No one else had at any other place I'd lived and gone to school with. So what was different about them? Couldn't they see how ruined I was?
I couldn't speak to them, I looked like I'd been run over by a truck, I was malnourished, and on top of that, I was frightened. Scared of them, scared of being here, scared of going home, scared of what they truly thought of me.
I lowered myself to the floor of the shower and put my head on my knees forcing the torso bandage to bend with me, the water running down my back. And I cried. I couldn't stop the waterfall that came, streaming in with the spraying shower drops.
I just wished I knew how to get out of being broken.