The food arrives. The others join us. Hatchet comes out of the bathroom and sits on one of the other beds, silent as ever. I spread everything out across the bed like we’re twelve and hiding from responsibility. She eats without realising she’s doing it, fingers stealing chips when she thinks I’m not looking.
The film starts. It’s awful. The dialogue makes no sense. The plot is held together by vibes and explosions.
Kayla leans back against the headboard at some point. Then, later, she leans sideways – just enough that her shoulder brushes mine.
I don’t comment.
I don’t move.
I just stay exactly where I am.
She exhales, long and shaky, and mutters, “Thank you.”
I keep my eyes on the screen. “Any time. I’m excellent at nonsense.”
And for a little while – just long enough – her world stays quiet.
GUARDING THE QUIET
Lullaby - Niykee Heaton
Bones
By the time the light starts thinning at the edges of the room, Kayla looks wrung out.
Not frantic anymore. Not brittle.
Just…used up.
It shows in the way she keeps shifting positions without ever settling. Knees up, then down. Hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, then shoved back. She rubs her palms over her thighs like she’s checking she’s still there.
Honey’s humour has softened into background noise. Ghost is quiet now, presence without pressure. Hatchet is dozing. The room smells like food that’s been eaten slowly and tea that’s gone cold before anyone finished it.
I watch Kayla’s eyelids flutter. She’s not asleep. She’s tired enough to want to rest, but alert enough to resist it.
Eventually, she exhales and says, “I think I need to lie down.”
Then, almost immediately: “But I don’t want to.”
I don’t jump in, I let the sentence finish forming inside her. I figure she’s had enough of people jumping in to give their advice lately. That didn’t work out so well for Nightshade, so I don’t plan on making the same mistake.
She stares at the far wall. “I’m not scared to sleep,” she adds. “I just…don’t trust the quiet.”
There it is. And I completelygetit. I’ve come to learn that when it goes quiet, something bad is coming.
I shift forward, elbows on my knees. “That makes sense.”
She looks at me, startled. “It does?”
“You’ve had alotof truth dropped on you in a short amount of time,” I say softly. “Your brain thinks if it lets go, something else will happen without you noticing.”
She swallows. “Yeah. I think…yeah, you’re right.”
I nod toward the bed. “You don’t have to sleep. Just rest. You can sit or lie down, you don’t even have to close your eyes, but give your body permission to relax, even if your brain doesn’t want to.”
She eyes me like my suggestion might bite. “And if I do fall asleep?”
I meet her gaze. Don’t soften it. Don’t dramatise it. “Then nothing happens without you knowing,” I say. “Because I’ll be here.”
