reticent

49

• AMALIA •

Before I was taken back to my father when I was twelve, I had nobody.

No friends. No family that I knew of. No dignity. No pride. No confidence. No voice. I was the shell of the person I had been before my mother died. I was there, but it was like someone else controlled my feelings, thoughts and emotions. Like I had a VR headset on and was playing the game that is my life.

I was weak. I hate feeling weak—I always have. I hate pitiful glances and sympathetic smiles. I hate people treating me like thin ice that's smoothed over a river; if you step on it it'll break and you'll fall through. But maybe I'm the one falling. Maybe I always have been, but the bliss of the water around me has pulled me into a false reality, if only for a few moments.

•

I wake up to a low humming sound.

I peel my eyes open, then clench them shut when the bright light shining above me hits them. A burst of pain erupts in my head, and I begin to question wether or not I'm in heaven.

Or maybe—possibly—hell.

"UNO!"

     I make myself open my eyes again, glancing around the light room to find Mason and Cole sitting in the corner of small space, opposite each other on a table as they hold a deck of UNO cards each.

     I watch them for a few moments.

     "Ha! Pick up two." Mason says.

     "Asshole." Cole mumbles.

     "Shut up." Mason replies. "You're just salty 'cause you've got shit cards."

     "You're the one who gave me them!" Cole exclaims.

     "Shh." Mason whispers. He looks at me, and I don't know why, but I close my eyes, feigning sleep. "She's asleep, you dumb fuck."

     "I'm not dumb." Cole mutters sadly.

     I hear Mason sigh.

Then a cough tingles it's way up my throat, falling out of my lips before I have a chance to try stop it.

"Amalia." I hear Mason say, my name like a plea on his lips.

I swallow the lump stuck in my throat.

"Get dad." Mason orders.

A moment later I hear the sound of a door being opened. My vision clears a bit as Mason clasps my hand, and I find myself again wanting to shy away.

Hurt flashes across his expression before it's replaced with understanding. "You're okay now." He whispers. "You're safe."

I let out a small whimper. His eyes cloud with concern, but then I hear multiple sets of heavy footsteps. I crane my neck to see my dad standing over me, a relieved look on his face.

"Sweetheart." He whispers, sitting beside me and gently pulling me up into his arms.

This time I do curl inward, stiffening at his touch no matter how much I wish I didn't. His eyes seem to soften as he loosens his grip on me a little.

"Here, baby, drink some water." He whispers, and a moment later I feel the top of a glass being pressed against my lips. My dad tilts my head back, making the cool liquid soothe the ache building heavily in my throat. He slowly guides me back into a laying position. "Is anywhere hurting, Amalia?"