“I want you.”
Dylan’s words are powerful, raw, and real. And I hold my breath, waiting for the but. He stands, as far away from me as he can be in the room, waiting. He’s quiet, not responding. He’s waiting for me. I want to argue, to scream for him to run as fast and far as he can. I want to cry. I want to tell these voices to leave and never return. I want to be normal. I want to love him. I want… I want…
So much.
“You’re fighting with yourself,” he says.
“I am,” I reply.
“Stop talking yourself out of us. We work, and we’ll find a way to work together. All of us.”
Mom walks in, carrying a clear bag. My eyes are drawn to the colored pencils.
Oh, pencils. Neve claps her hands together happily.
Suddenly, I become weak in the legs, and stumble backward.
“Molly,” Dylan says as he runs toward me to catch me before I fall.
My head clouds, and I start rubbing my eyes.
“What’s happening?” Dylan asks.
I close my eyes.
Looking at the man, I back away from him until I find the wall. I slide down it, and curl into myself. “Please, no more,” I beg.
He looks at me with a blank expression. “I won’t hurt you,” he says as he stands further away from me.
“Paris,” I call for M’s mom. “Paris!” I say even louder.
“Molly, are you okay?” the man asks.
“My name’s Neve.” I look up at him, and recognize him from the first time. He won’t hurt me. But I don’t trust him, not yet. “I know you.”
He smiles at me. He takes a step closer, and my eyes widen with his step. He notices, and steps back. “Paris,” he calls M’s mom. He looks around the room, then sinks to the floor where he’s standing. He crosses his legs in front of him and places his hands in his lap. “My name’s Dylan. I’m really happy to meet you, Neve.” M’s mom walks in and sees me and Dylan sitting on the floor. She’s just about to ask why, when Dylan says, “Neve’s with us.” He offers her a smile.
“Oh, hi Neve. I got those colored pencils you wanted, and some books to color in. I also bought the first two Harry Potter books. Would you like me to get them?”
“Can I have the pencils and the books to color in, please?”
“I’ll go get them.” I look between her and Dylan, silently asking if he’s going to try to hurt me. “He’s a good person, Neve,” she answers my unasked question.
I nod, but I’m still cautious. People can say whatever they want. Their words mean nothing if their actions don’t back them up. People think that because I’m a kid, I’m dumb. But I’m not like other kids. I’ve lived a life full of lies, horror and betrayal. I’m not trusting anyone, other than M, AJ, and Kate. And Paris.
“Neve, here you go,” M’s mom says as she approaches me carefully.
I look at Dylan, and he appears worried. “Are you okay?” I ask as I reach for the pencils.
“I’m okay, sweetheart,” Paris says.
“Not you, Paris. Dylan, Are you okay? You seem worried. Did I do something wrong? Do you want me to do something for you?”
“What? God no. I don’t want you to do anything for me… Neve,” he stutters when he says my name. “I never want you to do anything for me.”
“He used to make me do things to him. Is that what you want?”
“No!” Dylan nearly shouts at me. I cower backward, afraid. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I just want to be friends, that’s it. I’ll never ask you to do anything like he used to.”
I take one of the pencils out of the packet, and start coloring in. “He’d yell at me if I told him it hurt. He’d scare me. He’d tell me he’d hurt everyone if I didn’t do what he wanted. He’d tell me no one would believe me. He said I’d be taken away, and no one would know where I went. He told me he’d kill me.”
“Dear Lord,” Paris gasps.
“I’ll never do anything like that to you, Neve.”
I keep coloring, while chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Do you want to color with me?”
“Me?” Dylan asks. I nod my head without lifting my eyes to look at him. “I’d love to.”
“Don’t touch me,” I warn.
“I won’t.” Although I’m not looking at him, I can hear him sliding across the floor. I know he’s here, opposite me. He’s far enough away he can’t reach out to touch me. I take two colors, and slide them over to him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say as I slide the coloring book over so we both have a page each. I lay flat on my stomach, and hook my ankles together.
“You like coloring, and Harry Potter. Harry Potter is cool. I actually think without Hermione, Harry wouldn’t have made it as far as he did.”
“Do you like the movies, or the books?”
“The books rock. But the movies were pretty good too.”
I smile. “There’s a Harry Potter studio in England. I want to go one day.”
“Yeah? I’d love to go there too.”
“Have you ever had Butter Beer?” I ask.
“No, but I want to try it. I wish I had Harry’s invisibility cloak too.”
“Me too!” I say happily.
We continue to color in quietly for a little while. I like how he hasn’t tried anything on me. But it doesn’t mean he won’t. I just have to be really careful around him. He used to pretend he was nice when we were with our foster parents, then at night, it would all be different. “I didn’t like to be left alone with him,” I say out loud.
“Yeah?”
“Every time our foster parents would go anywhere, he’d start to touch me.”
“Is that right?” Dylan asks, his voice tight.
“He never hit me where they’d see the marks.” I look up right at the moment where Dylan stops coloring, rolls his eyes, and does a funny move with his mouth. “Are you sad?”
He hesitates with his reply. “I’m upset,” he finally says.
“I’m sorry,” I automatically respond. I used to say sorry to him all the time, and hope he wouldn’t hurt me.
“You don’t have to say sorry to me, Neve.”
“Do you want to do what he did to me?”
“Never.”
“I didn’t like it.” I hear someone crying, and look up. M’s mom is sniffling into a tissue. “Did I hurt your feelings?”
She shakes her head slowly. “Sweet girl, you have the most beautiful and pure heart. There’s no way you could ever hurt my feelings.”
Neve, I need to come back.
I nod my head.
Everything becomes fuzzy, and I feel so tired. It’s time for M to come back.
I have so many questions for Amelia. My mind hasn’t stopped. Kate and AJ both are talking all the time, and it’s driving me crazy. Neve’s quiet, not interacting at all.
Zhen places his head on my lap, and waits for me to scratch behind his ear. His eyes droop when I start scratching. “You okay, boy?” I ask, half expecting him to respond in some kind of way.